Chapter 43 #2
I step back, and he continues driving down the street.
I didn’t think to ask why he was here, but I get my answer when he pulls into a driveway a few houses down, waving once before walking inside the house. I wave back, then return to my same spot on the steps, deliberating my next move.
I have about ten minutes before I need to leave to ensure I get back in time for Mom’s deadline.
I should have written him a letter earlier or something, but I wasn’t sure what to say.
I’m still not sure what all to say, so I was sort of relying on winging it once we were face-to-face.
Sawyer is hard to read most of the time, but he’s impossible to read when I can’t see his expression.
A familiar blue truck pulls into the driveway before I’ve made a decision.
I stand immediately, wiping my damp palms on the skirt of my sundress.
“Wren!” Addison exclaims, climbing out of the cab. “This is a nice surprise. Sawyer didn’t mention you were stopping by.”
Her warm greeting is wonderful and awful. Obviously, Sawyer didn’t share any details about us with her.
“Hi, Addison,” I reply. “He didn’t know. I just stopped by for a minute.”
“Did he tell you about Lancaster?” The pride is overflowing in Addison’s voice as she glances at her son.
“He did,” I lie rather than admit I heard the college news from Cammie as part of her attempt to prevent me from inflicting more damage. “It’s very exciting.”
“Where did you end up for school?”
“Uh, Cambridge.”
“England?”
I nod.
“That’s exciting. One thing I never got to do at the academy was study abroad. What are you studying?”
“Classics. It’s not the most practical degree, but …
it’s more getting the degree that matters to my family.
” I hide a wince, hearing how privileged and out of touch that sounds.
I think Addison likes me. I want her to respect me, too, to see me as someone worthy of her son. “I’ll put it to some use,” I add.
Addison’s smile is kind. “I’m sure you will. You’re young. Plenty of time to figure it out.”
“Not that young,” I counter.
She laughs. “I suppose not.” She glances at Sawyer again. “Well, I could use some freshening up. It was a long trip. Good to see you, Wren.”
“You too, Addison. Welcome home.”
“Thank you.” She passes me and heads inside.
I shift my weight between my feet, listening to the door open and close behind me.
Sawyer leans back against the hood of his truck, one foot propped on the front fender, staring at me.
I speak first, not that it’s anything impressive. “Hey.”
“Hey,” he echoes.
“I, uh, I can’t stay for long. My parents aren’t exactly thrilled about my decisions last night, so it took some convincing for my mom to let me come here at all.
But I was—I’m flying to California tomorrow to visit my grandparents, and then I’m doing this charity tennis thing in Newport, and Lili found a French designer for the bridesmaids dresses, and once I’m in Paris, it makes sense to stay in Europe until—”
“You’re leaving, Wren. I got it. I don’t need a full itinerary.”
“Right.” I swallow. “So, Lancaster, huh?”
Cammie didn’t mention which school he was going to. Lancaster is in Connecticut, about three hours from here. A large, sports-centric university.
He nods.
“You playing baseball there?”
“No. Not for the school team at least. I might join intramural or something, if my arm cooperates.”
“Cool,” is my ironically lame reply. “When do you leave?”
“Few weeks.”
He’s not being unfriendly, but I’m definitely the one prolonging this conversation. I should just say what I came to and head home. I’m sure I’m over time anyway. I’ll call Mom on the drive home, which will hopefully keep her from freaking out too much.
“Well, I just wanted to say …”
“Goodbye?” he supplies as my voice trails.
“No. I mean, yeah, that too. But mainly, I’m sorry about last night. About storming out of here and about how I acted at Lucky’s. I was … getting drunk seemed like a solution at the time, and I’m sorry you had to … deal with that.”
“You remember it?”
“Mostly, I think,” I reply. “More than I’d like to, honestly, like the side-of-the-parking-lot bit.”
Mention of me vomiting draws a smile out of him. “I lost count of how many drinks you had. It’s impressive you kept that down for as long as you did.”
“I’ll mention that to my parents. Maybe they’ll be less disappointed.”
His smile lingers for a few more seconds, then slowly disappears.
“Thank you also. For sticking that extremely unflattering moment out and for driving me home. My mom said you carried me upstairs, and I doubt I managed to brush my teeth and change into pajamas on my own, so … thanks.”
Another nod.
“Okay. Bye.” I start to wave, think better of it, and tuck my hair behind my ear in an artless attempt to cover up my uncertainty.
He calls my name once I’m halfway across the yard. I turn quickly, my expression probably far too eager.
“You forgot your phone,” Sawyer adds, snagging it off the steps and then walking toward me.
Definitely far too eager.
“Oh. Right.” I laugh awkwardly, reaching out to retrieve it from him.
Except Sawyer doesn’t let my phone go. He holds my gaze, too, and we’re a lot closer than we were before.
His smell surrounds me—laundry detergent and salty air and sunscreen and something more musky or masculine that I always assumed was cologne.
But I’ve never seen him put any on, so maybe it’s just his body wash or deodorant.
“Be careful in LA and Newport and Paris and Italy and wherever else you’re going.”
I try to ignore the pounding in my chest as my pulse reacts to his close proximity. And to what sounds suspiciously like concern. “Trust me, I’m off alcohol for a while.”
One corner of his mouth tilts up, and my heart ricochets against my rib cage in response.
“I didn’t mean drinking. Wear a seat belt and a life jacket, that sort of thing.”
I frown. “Wouldn’t the life jacket get in the way of the seat belt? Sounds like a straitjacket situation.”
He rolls his eyes, but his smile has grown a little wider. “You’re such a smart-ass.”
I grin back. “You too. I mean, be careful. Don’t tear your other UCL or go bluffing after dark or anything.” At his questioning look, I add, “I found a blog online that mentioned what happened in the league.”
Sawyer nods once. “Fucking up my left arm is highly unlikely. Despite my dad’s best efforts, I was never much of a switch pitcher.”
My phone lights up in his hand. Mom is calling.
“Time’s up,” I say, grimacing.
“I should head in anyway. Someone made a fuck ton of fish tacos in my kitchen last night, and I’ve been looking forward to eating the rest of them all day.”
I smile. “Make sure you heat up the fish and tortillas before you add the slaw and sauce. Otherwise, they’ll get gross.”
“Yes, chef.”
“If they still taste okay, let your mom try one. Maybe she’ll hate me a little less, if you ever tell her everything that happened between us.”
His expression turns serious. “No one hates you, Wren.”
“You do,” I whisper. “After how I … left.”
“I hate how you left. I don’t hate you. I never have.”
I suck my lower lip in my mouth. “Can I kiss you?”
He raises one eyebrow. “You’ve never asked for permission before.”
“It was a yes-or-no question.”
Sawyer chuckles, then kisses me. When our mouths separate, he says, “You never have to ask, Wren.”
Then he turns and heads for his house. I’m pretty sure I see Addison duck away from the front window as he heads across the yard.
This was exactly how it looked when we ended before—me watching him walk away. But this feels different, feels more like a start than an ending, and I really hope it is.
I’m not sure I’ll survive the alternative a second time.