Chapter 6
Honey
I breathe in the crisp late September air as I walk out of Willow Ridge High after a busy day, excited by the prospect of the sidewalks soon being lined with flaky amber leaves and to start getting all my cosy sweaters out of the closet.
Summer in Willow Ridge is beautiful, but when the fall hits, that was always when some of the most magical scenes in the small town appeared—the ones I’ve missed the most.
Students mill about outside the school building, huddled in groups as laughter and gossip are bounced around.
I make my way to the parking lot, exchanging smiles with any of the students I’ve met so far since the semester started a few weeks ago.
Though, there’s too many of their names I can’t remember off the top of my head just yet.
I worked as a high school librarian at my last job in North Carolina since I graduated, helping to foster the love of reading every child deserves to experience.
Even though I went to Willow Ridge High myself, a lot has changed—for the better, thankfully, including a greater selection of books—so there’s plenty to learn.
But I have a good feeling about it. It feels strangely right to be back in these halls, and even if it’s just by offering students a quiet space in the library to read and write and escape—like I once needed—hopefully I can make the difference I wish someone had for me in high school.
So I wouldn’t have had to rely on the cocky quarterback soon-to-be famous bull rider to keep me going.
Who … is currently leaning against my car, holding a bouquet of flowers.
What the hell?
He’s thrown on a plaid blue flannel and somehow pulled some jeans over his cast, which is only visible out the bottom of one of the legs. A faded brown cowboy hat sits atop the roof of my car behind him, where he rests so casually, as if it’s not the strangest thing to find him here.
I wondered why there were so many kids in the parking lot on a Monday afternoon.
Students smile and wave at Sawyer as they pass.
A few groups of teenage girls hover around, whispering and batting their lashes at him, then shying away and giggling when he waves at them.
It has me involuntarily rolling my eyes—of course he’s still a heartbreaker after all these years.
My steps slow as I approach my car, stopping altogether when his eyes finally catch me.
I’d be lying if I said it wasn’t good to see him up and about, as opposed to the last time when he was battered and bruised in a hospital bed.
Despite the way we left things—how he pressed into that old wound with the comment about Noah’s dad.
I knew I shouldn’t have gone to see him—it’s been nine years for God’s sake, it was silly of me even to think he might’ve wanted me there. So why is he here now?
‘Hey, Blue,’ Sawyer drawls, letting that smirk of his fully play out, dimples popping up to say hello too.
And despite everything, my heart still races.
No, no, no. Do not let that name and smile affect you. You’re a grown woman now, you know better than that.
‘Sawyer.’ I try to keep my expression calm. ‘What are you doing here?’
‘I wanted to apologise.’ He holds up the flowers, now wielding a softer smile, and runs his other hand through his dark golden hair.
He bought me roses. Blue roses.
I’m sure he buys women flowers all the time, but I let myself believe for a second that he chose blue roses for the same reason the sight of them tugs on my heart.
‘Woah, Miss Goldman, are you friends with Sawyer Nash?’ Jesse—a freshman at Willow Ridge High who often ends up in the library when he’s had a rough day—asks, appearing by my side suddenly.
‘Best friends, actually,’ Sawyer corrects him, pumping his brows at me afterward. His smirk doubles in size.
‘That’s so cool,’ Jesse replies, nodding enthusiastically.
I try to protest, ‘Um—’
‘Are you going on a date? Is that why he has flowers?’ Another boy interrogates us on my other side who I’ve never met.
If there’s one thing I’ve taken from my career in high school, it’s that teenagers, as sweet as they can be, are also insufferable.
‘No, we—’
‘Oh yeah,’ Sawyer interrupts me, grin damn right mischievous now. I bite my tongue as I eye him narrowly. ‘Gonna wine and dine her, and everything.’
‘And everything! Ooh!’ A group of students squeal behind me, jumping about as if it’s the most scandalous thing they’ve heard. God, if gossip spreads around the high school like it did when I went then everyone will think I’m sleeping with local bull-riding star, Sawyer Nash, by tomorrow afternoon.
‘Okay, okay!’ I throw my hands in the air, getting this to stop once and for all. ‘We are not going on a date.’
‘But we are friends?’ Sawyer’s chestnut eyes twinkle, eager and pleading. The corners of his mouth twitch, anticipating my acceptance. He shakes the flowers to bring my attention to them again, and I’m certain this time he knew they would send my mind instantly back to prom night. Smart guy.
‘Maybe,’ is all I give him, along with a levelled look. Then I turn to the kids and wave them off. ‘Now, go on home. Y’all have got better things to be doing than standing around ogling Mr Nash here.’
The teenagers scatter, though not without a few of the girls shouting, ‘Bye, Sawyer!’ and running off in a fit of high-pitched squeaks and giggles.
Boy, he got enough attention being the quarterback in high school, I don’t even want to think what it would’ve been like if he’d been a world champion bull rider back then too.
We certainly wouldn’t have spoken, that’s for sure.
Once we’re alone, my words dry up. A beat of silence passes.
‘Here.’ Sawyer hands me the flowers suddenly.
Taking them carefully, I bring them to my nose to give them a smell, my shoulders easing at their sweet scent. ‘Thank you.’
He rubs the back of his neck. ‘Have you gotta be anywhere right now, or do you think you’d have some time to talk? Maybe grab some coffee?’
I check my watch as I walk towards the car, even though I know I’m free for a little while.
‘My mom’s picking up Noah from school today, so I can probably spare an hour.
’ One of the perks of having my mom move back to Willow Ridge with me—her eagerness not to lose any more time with me after so many years under my father’s roof where our relationship was stunted and restricted.
At that, his grin grows, dimples loud and proud beneath the close-shaven stubble on his cheeks. ‘Great. I’d offer to drive, but—’ he lifts his broken leg to show off his cast.
I unlock the car, lips dancing around the smile I don’t want to admit comes so easily around him. ‘I’ll drive, don’t worry. The flowers can make up for it.’
He opens my door for me, then grabs his crutches and hat and hurries around to the other side of the car, shouting ‘Shotgun!’ as if he’s not the only passenger.
‘So …’ Sawyer starts with a crooked smile, fingers tracing the edge of his coffee cup, around and around.
He rests his other arm on the back of his chair, painting the perfect picture of nonchalance, while I can’t help but fiddle with the cutlery and napkins on the table, making sure they’re aligned, my nerves getting the best of me.
Hazy afternoon sunlight shines through the large windows of the main café in Willow Ridge, Sitting Pretty, the light dancing in Sawyer’s chestnut eyes and along his sharp jaw.
Mint-green walls surround us, dotted with black and white pictures, and the odd chalkboard denoting special drinks for the fall.
Excitement filled me when I noticed they’re still making their signature cinnamon apple latte.
Soft chatter floats through the café, mixing with the sugary aromas and rush of steam from the coffee machines.
‘You’re a mom.’
‘Yep,’ I chuckle out, still sometimes as surprised by it myself even though Noah’s already six. I take a sip of my drink, relishing in the blend of cinnamon, apple, and a hint of honey.
‘How the hell did that happen?’ Sawyer practically laughs out the question.
I chew my lip, conscious there was a time when I thought Sawyer would be the one involved in that stage of my life.
‘Um … I accidentally fell pregnant in college. It wasn’t planned, but I’d been with Gray—Noah’s father—for a while by that point.
He was pretty excited, said we’d make it work, and well …
It just felt right. Like it was what the universe meant for me. ’
Sawyer nods, smile faltering, but never disappearing.
‘Obviously, Gray got real less excited once Noah was born and he had to actually look after the baby,’ I continue, my chest sinking. ‘He took a job in New York without discussing it with me. Without thinking what it meant for Noah. So, he went, and we didn’t.’
‘Gray sounds like a fucking douchebag,’ Sawyer announces to the whole café, too many tables immediately looking at us.
I smack a hand over my mouth to hold back my surprised laughter. Not that I should be shocked—he never could control his language, and I still haven’t completely shrugged off my father’s strict intolerance to swearing, even if I don’t really care. ‘Sawyer.’
He holds up his hands, but his wolfish grin is unapologetic and gleaming, eyes drinking in my amused state. ‘Sorry, Blue—I mean, Honey. Old habits.’