Chapter Thirteen #2
More silence. They sat there, just being in each other’s company, Jenna fighting off her impending tears. After a moment or two, Dakota spoke.
“What now?”
“What do you mean?”
“I mean, you live side by side. It’s not like you’re never going to see her again. What are you going to do now?”
“I’m not sure.” It was the most honest answer she could give.
Dakota took in a deep, slow breath, ruminating. “Give me the top three options you’ve been hamster-wheeling in your head.”
Jenna nibbled on her bottom lip. Dakota wasn’t wrong about that. “Okay, one. Ignore her completely. Like, pretend we never met.”
Dakota’s lips twisted with uncertainty.
“But then there’s her family,” Jenna said, on a miserable sigh. “I don’t want to ignore them.”
“Fair. Number two?”
“Rage date in front of her.”
Dakota squinted, then asked, in the drollest of dulcet tones, “Scratching number two from the running, dare I ask for option three?”
Jenna sighed. Deflated, really. “Number three. Maybe I should just…talk to her.”
“Say more.”
“I mean, how would she know how that triggered me when I don’t even know her middle name? Her favorite color?” She flailed her arms. Let them fall. “I don’t know her triggers, after all.”
Dakota feigned horror, hand splayed on her chest. “You mean”—fake gasp—“handle it like a mature adult rather than losing your shit?”
Jenna pulled her own droll face. “Listen, bitch—”
“Don’t try me, bitch.” Dakota raised her fists.
She held her stance soberly for three seconds before melting into an empathetic smile and pulling Jenna into a hug both fierce and comforting.
“You know what you need to do. Didn’t need my input at all.
” One punctuating squeeze, then Dakota let her arms drop.
“Talking to her,” Dakota said, “is a great next step.” With that, she kissed her own thumb, then pressed it to the middle of Jenna’s forehead—a little harder than necessary, if you asked Jenna.
“I will,” Jenna muttered back, rubbing her forehead.
“I mean, I’m not taking sides, but hear me out.” Dakota shrugged. “Maybe there was a perfectly logical reason for what she did. Or more, how she did it. I mean, the sticky note joke is our schtick, not hers.”
Damnit. Dakota had points. Lots of them.
“Maybe she’s dealing with some crap you don’t know about? Maybe it was…not such a thing?”
“Are you saying I’m overreacting?”
Dakota held up a hand. “Not public defending. You know I’m Team Jenna, even when I’m not taking sides, such as right now. I’m just saying…” She tucked her chin and did the truth-eyes stare—always, before a bitter truth pill. “It’s very new. The two of you.”
“I know,” Jenna choked out, as she swallowed it.
“And maybe you just communicate differently.”
Jenna had thought the same thing with the mature part of her brain. “That, too.”
“Which means—”
“A conversation is in order, I know,” she said again, trying to reassure Dakota with her eyes, since she couldn’t seem to pull off a full smile.
She did understand. Because she couldn’t just leave things the way they were.
She didn’t do casual sex, and she hated to think that might be exactly what she’d accidentally had with Sawyer.
She’d never know unless they talked, though.
It was so logical, she couldn’t even argue the point. She blew out a defeated sigh.
Dakota put a hand on her knee. “I have to get back to the café. I see the making of scones in my very near future.” She squeezed until Jenna raised her eyes to meet Dakota’s. “But I’m around. Text me if you need me, okay? You got this.”
Jenna nodded.
Dakota pulled her into a hug. “Let’s grab drinks with Ronni. Tomorrow? I’ll set it up. Watch your texts.”
“Sounds good.” A night out with her girls might be just what she needed. “Thanks, Dakota.” She squeezed her friend tightly again.
When they separated, Dakota held on to Jenna’s shoulders and looked her in the eye with one more truth-pill stare as she said, “You deserve the best. Don’t you forget that. Okay?”
“Yes, ma’am.” That one went down easier.
She sat back down in the chair as Dakota headed up the aisle and out the front door, calling a goodbye to Delia.
She finished up the last sip of her coffee, then turned the paper cup around and around in her hands as she stared at it.
This had hurt, mostly because she hadn’t been prepared for it.
She hadn’t braced. She hadn’t done enough research.
She’d let herself be blinded by her attraction to Sawyer—because, let’s face it, the woman is ridiculously gorgeous—and she hadn’t taken the time to suss out everything else she should know about somebody before she slept with them. That had been a mistake.
One she wouldn’t make again.
The day had been a hard one.
Slow. Hard to concentrate. Sawyer had been annoyed with herself for most of it. Colton kept peering at her, but thankfully, didn’t say a lot other than to ask her if she was okay.
She lied and said yes, that she was just tired.
He lied and pretended to believe her.
She got very little accomplished, and when five o’clock finally rolled around, she couldn’t escape her office building fast enough. Of course, that meant going home. Where Jenna lived next door.
Had she fucked up?
Her texts to Jenna had been quick—the day had been a busy one—but Jenna’s texts back had also been…abrupt? Simple? Not very emotional? Was Sawyer even allowed to be concerned about that when her own texts had been no more than three or four words here and there?
Jesus, new stuff was hard.
Gliding into the driveway, she saw Jenna’s car parked in her spot. The day was brisk and cold, and she pulled her jacket around her tightly as she gathered her stuff to head inside where she needed to figure out how best to approach Jenna.
Turned out, she didn’t need to think too hard because just as she lifted her foot to the first stair, Jenna’s door opened and she stepped outside with Arnold on a leash.
Clearly, the dog had no idea what had happened because he came right to Sawyer, tail wagging, excited to see her.
She smiled at him and gave him some pets.
“Hi,” she said as she looked up at Jenna’s face.
“Hey,” Jenna said. Her smile was there, but the wattage was dimmer than usual. “Um, I’m gonna walk Arnold, but…could we talk when I get back?”
“Absolutely.”
Jenna seemed relieved by her answer, which was curious, and Sawyer watched as she headed off with Arnold. Then she finished climbing up to the porch, fished out her keys, and went inside.
The coolness.
She’d never really noticed it before, the lack of warmth in her place, especially compared to Jenna’s.
Her furniture was sleek and modern. It looked terrific, with all its angles and sharp edges, but it didn’t invite the way Jenna’s did.
Her couch didn’t scream for her to come sit on it, to grab a blanket and burrow in, hunker down to watch TV.
All her walls were white—which made sense, given that she was renting—and painting, adding some color, some warmth, hadn’t appeared on her radar.
She set her stuff down, moved to the center of her living room, and stood there, turning in a slow circle. Her stuff was beautiful and expensive. It was also cold.
Like Amanda’s house.
A small gasp escaped her at the realization.
Oh, God, had she unconsciously modeled her place after Amanda’s?
Looking around, there was one major difference: the books.
She had small stacks of them on almost every surface.
The end table. The coffee table. The mantel over the fireplace.
She thought about Jenna’s house, how cozy and inviting it was and how she also had stacks of books all over the place.
She would say it looked lived in, but she’d mean it in the most positive of ways.
Jenna’s place screamed for you to come in, flop down, and make yourself at home.
Grab a book. Put your feet up. It was all earthy colors and warm textures and comfort. Like Jenna.
With a sigh, she moved back over to the door so she could hang her coat and bag on the coat tree in the corner, and that’s when she heard a soft voice outside and the creak of the porch steps. Without thinking, she yanked the door open to Jenna and Arnold coming up the front stairs.
“How was the walk?” she asked.
“It was fine.” Jenna unclipped Arnold and let him inside, then wrapped her arms around herself against the chill in the air as they stood on the porch. “So, um…” She seemed to struggle with finding the right words, and Sawyer felt a pit settle in her stomach.
“Is everything okay?” She asked the question, though she wasn’t sure she wanted the answer.
Jenna looked down at her feet. “I had a really good time with you last night.”
Okay, whew. Sawyer ventured a small smile. “Me too.”
“But I have to be honest and tell you, I had a bit of a…” She seemed to search for the right words before settling on, “A bit of a triggering moment around you leaving me a sticky note this morning and not being there when I woke up.”
Sawyer blinked at her. “Oh. Okay. I mean, I’m sorry. You looked so peaceful and we’d been up so late, I just wanted to let you sleep.”
To Sawyer’s horror, Jenna’s eyes welled up. She heard her swallow. “I just…okay. Just…let me work through a few things, okay? Just let me do that?”
“Sure. Of course.” Sawyer’s own eyes were wide. She could feel the cold air on them. She watched as Jenna seemed to escape the porch and went inside, closing the door quietly behind her.
“Fuck.” Sawyer whispered the curse and stood there for another moment before going back inside. “What the hell was that?”
Upstairs, she changed into cozier clothes.
In the kitchen, she emptied a can of tomato soup into a pot to heat up while she made a grilled cheese sandwich—the one thing she was good at cooking.
Then she took it all into the living room and sat on her beautiful, uncomfortable couch, clicked on her very nice television, and ate her solitary dinner.
The state of her stomach left much to be desired, but she made herself eat as much as she could, having skipped out on lunch.
Sawyer was one of those people whose brain and stomach were connected, and when her brain was working overtime—like today—her stomach checked out to give all the energy to her head.
It wasn’t the best way to handle stress.
She ate half the soup and about three-quarters of the sandwich and tapped out.
Her dishes shoved away from the edge of the table, she lay back on her couch, wondering how she’d ever expected to get comfortable on something with so many sharp angles.
Lasting about seven minutes, she sat back up and got her laptop.
Back on the couch—sitting this time, because leaning back was just ridiculously uncomfortable—she opened up Between the Lines, skipped all the comments and messages, and began a new entry.
I have said many times that romance novels are unrealistic…that they tell their readers they can attain things that are mostly unattainable. Once in a while…
She stopped. Sighed. Shook her head in utter disgust at herself. This was a terrible idea. She signed out of the blog without posting anything, opened her journal in Word, and began to type.
She spent the next hour venting. Spilling her worries out onto the screen.
Jenna clearly had an issue, and they clearly should talk about it, but she’d been shut out for the time being, and that didn’t sit well.
She got it all out of her head and down through her fingertips, then finally closed the laptop.
She wasn’t sure if she felt better, and part of her thought about stomping right across the porch, taking those six steps that somehow felt like an abyss between them, and pounding on Jenna’s door until she let her in.
But she’d asked for some time, and Sawyer was not an asshole, so she’d give it to her. Even if it had her mildly panicking that the spectacular night they’d shared might never happen again.
Upstairs, she went through her nightly routine and settled into bed.
Through the shared wall of the house, she could vaguely hear the sound of Jenna’s television in her bedroom.
She pictured her, wondered what she wore to bed when she was alone.
Did she have actual pajamas? Did she sleep in underwear and a T-shirt or tank?
Oh, God, does she sleep naked? Those questions rolled around in her head as she clicked her own light off and slid down under the covers.
Sleep claimed her quickly, but it was restless, and she dreamed of her entire life taking place on sticky notes.