Chapter 30
Sawyer
I wake the next morning to the sound of birdsong outside my window. I’ve never noticed it before. It’s beautiful, the perfect complement to the sunlight peeking through my curtains.
My room is bright and warm. I stretch in my sheets, savoring the moment. Something feels distinctly different today. It’s like I’ve only half woken. My body may be in reality, but my mind is still in the lingering embrace of dreams.
Except, the longer I blink sleep from my eyes, the feeling doesn’t disappear. It’s not a dream, I realize. It’s something else. Something as intangible and intoxicating. Something transformative.
Hope.
For the first time in years, I’m hopeful. The day awaiting me outside my windows is lovely. How many lovely days have I ignored? I won’t ignore this one.
Springing from my bed, I pull the curtains aside, hungry for sunlight.
It’s been so long since my room felt warm.
I feel the heat everywhere on my skin like it’s radiating from within me.
Like kissing Morgan under the dappled canopy of the Huntington Gardens has lit anew the kiln in my heart, the fire ready to shape hope and imagination into something real. Just for a second, I close my eyes.
When I open them, I smile. Morgan is visible through my window. She’s in the yard shoveling earth.
Suddenly, I vividly remember another morning weeks ago just like this one, except not. It’s like warped déjà vu. On Morgan’s first morning here, I woke up and saw her in the yard through my window. She had her hair up in a clip bun just like it is now.
And yet, everything is different, even though only the yard has changed. Only the yard…and me. On that morning, I was angry. Scared, even. I glared, frightened deep down of the disturbance in my isolation.
Not today. Today I’m hopeful. Happy.
Morgan spots me over her shovel, and I wave. She’s stunning, shining with sweat and sun. Dirt freckles her face, dusts her arms. When she beams at me, I feel it like a punch to the heart.
It hurts, but only because it forces me to remember how alive I am. How fragile yet precious the rhythm in my chest, the rushing in my veins. I want to feel it all.
Warmth spreads through me—warmth and light. Hope is addictive, and I can’t get enough. I can’t wait to join Morgan outside, to make her laugh, to see her tomorrow, to—
Suddenly, my world slants sideways. I stagger backward. My breath catches. This isn’t merely happiness. It’s overwhelming. Dangerous. I feel a shift in my room. The sunlight flickers. The air hums. I turn, gasping sharply.
Kennedy stands in my doorway.
It’s been weeks since I’ve seen her, and yet it feels like it’s been years. Five, to be exact. Her raven hair is loose, dangling down her shoulders. Her expression is serene despite the tear slipping down her cheek. She’s glowing with ethereal light. A moon in my sunlit day.
I rush to her. Something is very wrong. Panic clutches my heart, constricting everything in me.
Kennedy doesn’t react. She doesn’t look afraid. “I’ll always love you, Sawyer,” she says. Her voice is hushed and yet so loud in my silent room. When did the birds stop singing? “Thank you for giving me a love so few people ever experience in their lives. I don’t have a single regret.”
I can’t process what she’s saying. Why is she here now, after staying absent for so long? It’s all I can focus on. “What?” I ask, trying to clear my head. “Stop. Slow down. You sound like you’re saying goodbye. We haven’t even finished the yard yet.”
Kennedy smiles softly. “I am saying goodbye. What a gift it is to have the chance. It’s time. I’m ready.” Her voice doesn’t waver. “You are, too,” she continues, sounding confident. “I’m so happy, Sawyer. For the first time in years, I’m happy. You deserve everything.”
In a painful burst, my heart restarts. I realize what she’s saying. Devastation sweeps through me.
“Kennedy,” I plead. Her name comes out strangled. “No. No! What’s happening? Stay. Explain what this is. I don’t understand.” My voice breaks. I desperately hope I’m not understanding, at least. She can’t be leaving. Moving on. She can’t be. Not now.
I was supposed to know when it would be. I was supposed to prepare. We have weeks left on the yard. If I’d known today, then—
I can’t contemplate how I’d have spent my last day with her. It’s too painful.
I remember our first kiss. She tasted like lemonade. The day I proposed. Sunset after the rain. Every happy day wasn’t just leading to this. It wasn’t. It wasn’t supposed to end this soon. In this room, unceremonious, without warning. Dreams shattered by morning light.
My heart breaks all over again. Newly healed scar tissue shreds in seconds. I don’t know how to make sense of the conflicts in me. I kissed Morgan yesterday. Today I’m desperate to hold on to Kennedy. I know I can’t have both. Sun and moon at once.
I could figure it out, though, I insist to myself, desperate. I could process my new feelings for Morgan and the feelings I’ll forever have for Kennedy. I could piece myself together. I just need time.
Kennedy grows brighter.
I don’t have time. We don’t have time. We’ve never had enough. Not from the first lemonade kiss.
I choke out a sob. If these are my last moments with my first love, I don’t want to regret them. I won’t spend them stuck in what should have been or reasoning with the unreasonable forces of the universe. I need to be here, with her. For all that we have left.
“I’ll always love you, Kennedy,” I say. I force my breathing to steady.
I can crumble later. After…after…“You’ll always be with me.
Always. I’ll never forget—” There’s so much I want to say.
Millions of moments that have made a lifetime in our too-short romance.
Moments that I’m grateful for despite the pain I now know loomed behind them. I can’t get them out, not fast enough.
Kennedy seems to know. She reaches for me, and for the first time in years, I can feel her touch. She squeezes my hand, her skin more than a memory.
“I know,” she tells me. “I know.”
She’s really here with me. It’s wonderful and horrible, because I know this truly is the end.
The light grows brighter. I stare into her eyes, forcing out the blinding pain for just as long as I can to look at her.
I want to memorize everything about her.
The faint lines at the corners of her eyes that never got to become wrinkles, the shadows of her eyelashes, the shade of her lips.
If I can just have one second more, another, one more—
I close my eyes as white envelops the room. Holding on to her, I squeeze her hand. I won’t let go. I can’t—
The light fades. I open my eyes.
Kennedy is gone.