Chapter Thirty-Nine Sawyer
Chapter Thirty-Nine
Sawyer
I’m startled awake by the annoying sound of my ringtone. Jerking up, I absentmindedly search for my phone on my nightstand, which is full of water, pills, and other junk that my father put there per my mother’s commands.
When I finally find it, I slide my finger over the green button and don’t even get a chance to see who it is before I hear my brother say, “You promised . When you left, you said you wouldn’t let them change anything.”
It’s hard to break past the grogginess as I sit up slowly, with a pain in my ribs that has me cringing, and rub my eyes. “Bentley, I don’t under—”
“I have friends here. A girl I like,” he cuts me off angrily, his voice getting louder even though it’s— God . Two thirty in the morning. “I thought you had my back, but they’re making me give it all up for you. You promised .”
It takes longer than I want to admit letting everything he’s saying soak in before I finally get what this is about. “They haven’t said anything to me about this. I swear it. The last time I heard them talk about moving was over spring break.”
That doesn’t appease my little brother. “It’s always been about you,” he accuses, voice breaking. “For once, I wanted it to be about me. I did everything I could to make life easier for them. I did. Not you. I tried to make things better knowing you were going to wreck it. Wreck them .”
I swallow past the lump in my throat.
The dig is well deserved.
I am going to wreck them.
I already have.
“Bent—”
“I hate you,” he hisses before hanging up.
I stare at my phone, fully awake now. If I call him back and try to talk to him, will he answer? I doubt it. I know Bentley. He holds on to grudges.
Swinging my legs over the side of the bed, I trudge over to the door and wake up my father, who’s been sleeping on the couch since getting here. “You can’t uproot Bentley’s life.”
If he’s surprised by the statement, he doesn’t act it. He sits up, wincing as he massages his neck and rolls his shoulders. “Sawyer, your mother and I think it’s what’s best.”
I cross my arms. “For whom? He’s mad at me because you guys are taking away the only stability he’s ever had. I don’t want to be responsible for that. I’ve already caused enough damage to the family for one lifetime.”
His eyes widen. “Sawyer, how could you say that? Nothing you’ve done is your fault.”
I may not have asked for cancer, but I made plenty of decisions since stopping treatment. “If you take him out of New York, he may never forgive me. I promised him I wouldn’t do that to him.”
Dad swipes a palm down the front of his face and sighs. “Can we talk about this in the morning? I think this conversation needs coffee, and I can tell you’re upset.”
“Bentley is more upset,” I argue.
He watches me for a moment, lips pressing together in contemplation before he eventually nods. “No matter what choice we make, somebody is going to be upset. But your mother and I aren’t comfortable leaving you here alone given the circumstances.”
It’s always about you.
Selfish.
Whom are you trying to fool?
I hate you.
Closing my eyes, I squeeze my fists together where they’re tucked under my arms. “Give me a month. I’ll be finished with the semester, and then I’ll go back to New York. Just don’t…” I take a deep breath. “Don’t make Bentley leave. That’s the only home he’s ever known.”
In that moment, I realize what Paxton must have been thinking when he chose to call my father.
Life is all about sacrifices for the people you care about. The people you love.
“Sawyer,” Dad says softly.
“I’m going to bed.”
I close the door behind me, curl into the blankets, and think about how to make the most of my time left.
But when sleep evades me and I find myself too pent-up to relax, I creep out of my bedroom, past my sleeping father, and out the front door.
* * *
It smells exactly how I remember it did, the blooming flowers tickling my nose as I settle against the remaining trunk of the oak. I can tell how much effort it took for Paxton, or whomever, to maintain this little slice of heaven.
Using my foot to nudge the one of the bridge’s wooden posts, I frown as it teeters out of place. Despite Paxton’s work, I doubt it’ll last much longer without some major TLC. And who has the money for that? I guess it’s good that I won’t be around long enough to see it completely destroyed.
I hear footsteps near me. I scooch closer to the stump, hugging my legs into my body and hoping what little remains of the darkness from sunrise can shield me from whoever is coming.
I see a flashlight enter the little alcove before a body does, and past the bright glare, I see Paxton. Relief eases my tense muscles as he walks over. “Thought you might be here.”
“How did you know I left?” I ask, relaxing into the stump. “My dad didn’t even wake up when I snuck out.”
My neighbor chuckles. “Are you sure?” he remarks with a secretive smile.
“Why?”
He grins, turning the flashlight off and tucking it into his front pocket. “Who do you think came to my apartment asking if I knew where you might go?”
I sit up straighter, looking toward the set of bushes hiding us. “Is he here?”
Paxton settles beside me, stretching his long legs out in front of him and holding out a silver-foiled wrapper for me to take. “Nah, he let us have a moment. I think he knows you need it now more than ever.”
I rest my chin back down on my knees, staring at the Pop-Tart. “Did he tell you?”
There’s a pause. “Yes.”
“I’m doing it for my brother.”
“I know, Birdie.”
“I don’t want to be selfish anymore.”
His throat bobs. “You never were.”
What a lie.
“Bentley hates me,” I tell him, nibbling my bottom lip and closing my eyes. “Going back is the only way.”
Paxton rubs my arm. “No, he doesn’t. He’s thirteen and upset. I can’t tell you how many times I told my family I hated them when I was his age.”
But the difference is, he had a reason to. “You didn’t mean it though? If I were you, I would have.”
He stares at our bridge quietly, thinking about his answer. Clicking his tongue, he shakes his head. “I heard once that life is too short to be at war with yourself. If I spent my whole life hating my family for the choices they made, wouldn’t I regret the decisions I was making for me?”
I consider it, realizing our mindsets aren’t that different after all. Neither one of us wants to waste our time existing with the cards we were dealt when we could reshuffle the deck.
“Paxton?”
His eyes flicker to me, sparking when he hears me speak that name. Long before he was Banks, the boy who shared my bed, he was Paxton, the boy who shared my fruit snacks.
My happy place.
I let out a tiny breath. “You were never just an item to cross off the list.”
He looks away, face overcome with emotion. I don’t think I needed to tell him that, but I can tell he appreciated it anyway.
Eventually, in such a quiet voice, he says, “I always saw you as more than my neighbor, more than a friend.” He pauses, still not looking at me but at the wooden bridge. “Maybe in another life, we could have explored that.”
That crack in my heart deepens, making my chest threaten to cave in. “Yeah. Maybe.”
We sit in silence, his hand sliding toward mine until our pinkies wrap around one another. I don’t know how long we sit like that, but it doesn’t seem like long enough when I choose to break the silence.
“I’m grateful for you and what you’ve given me,” I tell him, squeezing his pinky. “I always will be. And I hope one day you can find the kind of friendship we had in somebody who can truly make you happy.”
His grip on my hand tightens until it’s almost painful, but I know that’s not his intent. Paxton Banks would never hurt me.
Not the way I’m hurting him.
His voice is raspy when he says, “I hope so too, Birdie. I hope so too.”