Chapter 21 #2
“Hmmm, well . . . you grind your teeth when you sleep. You should probably get one of those mouthguards,” she says, narrowing her gaze when our eyes meet.
“Right, well, I did know that, and a guard is not happening. I’ve tried.
Chewed right through six of them.” My jaw constantly aches from the work my mouth apparently does at night.
I know it’s stress. It started happening the day I walked in on my dad and her mom.
But maybe I’ll finally stop hurting myself at night after today. Time will tell.
“Fair enough,” she says, a softness touching her eyes. She knows a thing or two about stress.
“So, I’m ruining my teeth. What else?” I need more. My courage is wavering, but she’s the heart of what makes me brave. How she sees me. Everything big and small.
“Okay, how about this? You save all your old IDs and licenses. I’ve checked out your wallet, and I think it’s cute that you hang onto your worst photos from your past.”
I wince as I mentally rifle through the images she’s seen. My hair has not always been agreeable, and there have been a few photos that look much like the mugshots I’ve also had taken.
“Relax, I thought they were all pretty cute. Especially the one from eighth grade.”
“Oh god,” I laugh out, pinching the bridge of my nose as my face warms. I definitely had a mullet in that one. And not the cool kind.
The cool touch of her hand on my bicep fills my lungs, though, and I meet her gaze as we pull to the stoplight.
“I mean it. You were cute then. Cute now. Always cute.” Her cheeks blush with her sweet compliment, and I think she’s a little embarrassed admitting her crush to me.
“Okay, well, anything else? Did you sort through my credit report and find all the dings on it? Or maybe round up an embarrassing rejection love letter from someone in junior high?” I chuckle but she shakes her head and presses on.
“Nope, none of that. I was too busy locking away the sound of your voice when you hum while you work, and I think I’ve figured out your favorite Stones song. You like Wild Horses, don’t you?”
My mouth hangs open in a surprised smile.
“I do. And I didn’t know I hummed that loud,” I admit.
“It’s loud. I just listen to you. I like how you breathe, how you laugh.
I love it when you’re excited and talking trash on the court when you play ball.
I love it when you talk dirty to me. I also love the way your eyes close when you turn over an engine you’ve been working on.
You smile when it sounds right. And you nod when you eat something you like.
You have a thing for dark chocolate. You nibble on the candy bowl by Mig’s computer all the time.
And you have a loyal streak that you wear boldly, and clear-cut integrity.
You love your brother despite his massive flaws. ”
“Massssssive,” I echo, soaking in every overwhelming thing she’s said.
“You’re an easy guy to fall for.” She sucks in her lips, her smile fighting to burst. She stopped short of saying she’s in fact fallen, but I think she has.
I have. And I can’t wait to tell her all the things about her that made it easy just the same.
But first, I must tell her why she should run from me, and all the pain I’m going to remind her of from this moment on.
I pull into the burger joint’s lot, and Saylor shifts in her seat. I park rather than drive to the window, because I’m not sure if I should level her with the hard truth now or wait until her stomach is full. I’m not sure what the polite order of events is in this case.
Saylor unfastens her seatbelt and grabs her door handle, anxious to head inside, but I can’t seem to peel my hands away from the steering wheel.
She has the door open a few inches when she notices, gazing back at me over her shoulder.
Her eyes are pained with a sudden worry, the little dents that form above her brow evident.
God, my expression must look like I’m about to be ill.
“Are you okay, Rowan?”
I shake my head. Here goes my life.
“Saylor, we need to talk.” My lips are quivering with nerves, and my face feels numb. “Oh, God. I’m going to be sick.”
I pop open my door and lean out, vomiting acid and coffee onto the pavement. The sour taste matches the ache in my chest, and when Saylors’ palm runs up my spine to comfort me, I shiver.
“Rowan, Oh my God! Hold on, I’ll get you some water. We don’t have to go anywhere today. You need to rest.”
I cover her hand on my shoulder and groan out, “No. Stay. I’ll be fine.”
I hope I’ll be fine. I hope we’re fine.
“Okay,” she croaks, shifting back as her hand falls away from my body.
The click of her door tells me she’s settled back inside, so I breathe in deep and straighten myself behind the wheel so I can close mine.
My head swivels toward her as if my neck is a rusty hinge.
I can feel my mouth pulling toward my chest on the corners, and the heaviness sitting on my eyelids makes me want to close them. To sleep. To avoid.
“I saw your dad the day he left your mom.” I simply have to start. Saylor flinches slightly at my words, but she steadies herself, breathing in deep through her nose and rolling her lips together before nodding.
“I helped him load his truck. It was midnight, and you were asleep. Your mom was gone, even though she tucked you in. She left so your dad could go quietly.”
Saylor’s lips part, and her eyes begin to water.
“Did my dad do something?” she whispers.
“Oh, no. I’m not telling this well because I’m scared.
But no, Saylor. Your dad didn’t do anything.
Your mom did. She did the worst thing.” My brow draws in so tight my face feels folded.
“With my dad. The two of them were having an affair. And I found out when your dad did because I was there. He had suspicions, I guess. So, one night, when I had decided to surprise my dad at the office with dinner along with my mom, we walked in and found the two of them together in his office.”
“Together?” She shakes her head erratically, as if she’s trying to comprehend the word.
“They were having sex on his desk. And I could give you the details if you want, because believe me, they are burned in my mind forever. But I don’t think you want them.”
She shakes her head and croaks, “I don’t.”
I nod and inhale slowly, bracing myself for all that’s still to come.
“Your dad was about two minutes behind us, so thankfully he didn’t see the act, but he saw the ugly fight between my parents, and he found your mom in tears and still in a state of . . . undress.”
Saylor waves her hand between us, stopping me from painting more of a picture.
“I went to your house while my mom packed up her jewelry and clothes. I wanted to . . . fuck, Saylor, I wanted to see you. I wanted to somehow protect you from it, I guess. I thought maybe I could come up with some story to tell you that would make life okay when you woke up in the morning and your dad was gone. But your dad already had things handled. He thought of you first. He and your mom agreed on the story they’d tell.
They didn’t want to dress it up, but they wanted the appearance of any other divorce for you.
Two people who simply weren’t the right fit. ”
“Ha, yeah. Well, that’s what they were. To the extremes, it seems.” Bitterness comes out in her tone.
“I’m sorry, Saylor,” I stutter out. Her eyes lift to meet mine, a strange look of surprise in them.
“Why would you be sorry?” She shakes her head.
My shoulders lift to my ears.
“I don’t know. Because I didn’t tell you the truth then, or at any time over the eight years since. Because I kept it from you, and it was such a big part of your life. Maybe you would have pushed to move in with your dad if you knew. You deserved to have the facts. Even if you were a kid.”
Saylor leans across the console, leaning on her elbows as her hands circle my forearm. I let her drag my hand toward hers and splay my fingers so she can grasp my palm. My gaze fights to meet hers, and when it does, I find so much forgiveness in her eyes.
“Saylor, I’m so sorry,” I say, swallowing down the weight of everything still to come, the hard part still waiting to be shared.
“You wanted to protect me, Rowan. And you still do. You weren’t the one who made the choice to betray our family.
And you aren’t your father, so stop going there in your head because I know you are.
You aren’t him. He’s part of your genetic code, sure, but that man .
. . he isn’t your heart. Not even close.
” She lifts a hand to my cheek, running her thumb along the two days of beard growth I haven’t had the energy to shave.
I close my eyes and press into her touch, turning enough to kiss her wrist.
I’m still shaking, my lips trembling, because the hardest words are sitting on my tongue. I blink my eyes open and take her hand back in mine, meeting her gaze and breathing through the death-grip my nerves have on my chest.
“That’s not all,” I utter.
Her lips part slightly with a short gasp.
“I went to the beach house that night with my mom. Caleb was at home asleep, just like you. And I was so confused and angry. I wanted to be with my mom, so when she got in the car to drive away, I pounded on the passenger window until she relented and let me in. We drove all night through the desert, and we were exhausted when we finally got to the house. I fell asleep on the couch. My mom busted into the wine and went upstairs. I don’t know how many hours we slept, but I woke up to my mom shaking my arm and pulling me to my feet because the room was filling with smoke. ”
Saylor shakes her head slowly, and I drop my gaze for one final gut check. I have to say the words out loud. To someone. My eyes flit back to hers.
“My mom set the fire. She burned that place to the ground. But I couldn’t let her go to jail for it.
That wouldn’t have been right. So, when the investigators started asking questions, I confessed.
I didn’t tell her I was going to do it. I didn’t have much of a plan.
I just knew that I could handle the punishment, and my mom .
. . she’d been punished enough. So, I confessed, and when she tried to make me change my mind, I refused.
I fought her on it so hard. I begged her to let me.
And she was so scared, so fucked up from everything that had happened, she gave in and let me make the call.
And I know she beats herself up for it still, so I try to remind her that it was my choice, every time I see her.
I was a kid, yeah. Maybe. But I was also pretty grown up.
And being a juvenile meant I’d do less time. I’d do it again in a heartbeat.”
Saylor’s eyes haven’t blinked once since I began sharing this part.
But they’ve comforted. The soft shape of them, coupled with the faint smile on her lips, the first look of empathy—true empathy—that I think I’ve ever seen looks back at me now.
I open my mouth and draw in the mix of cold and hot air from the doors having been opened, and my lungs soak it all in.
My body fills, my fingers stop tingling, my muscles pump with instant energy.
My exhale is joined by an uncontrollable laugh, one that makes Saylor’s smile inch just a little higher.
“God, that felt good,” I say, my open hand clutching to my chest. My heart hammers with relief, and I start to laugh harder as I run my palm up my jaw and hold my gaze on Saylor in disbelief. “Thank you for letting me tell you. For looking at me like I’m not a monster. For listening.”
“And that’s why I love you, Rowan.” Her sudden words break through the weight of everything, and her eyes blink finally, lashes slowly kissing her cheeks. She doesn’t seem afraid. Her words were clear. Easy. Soft. Genuine.
“You love me?” I don’t believe her despite all the evidence, and I know it’s because I still don’t think I’m worthy. I’m still David Anderson’s son. There’s still bad in there somewhere. She can’t love me. She shouldn’t.
“I do. I love you. And you don’t have to say it back. But I love you, and I want you to know that. And I’m glad you told me, all of it. And it’s okay that it hurts. It’s supposed to.”
She dips her chin and peers up at me, waiting for my response. My mind is wild with thoughts, arguments against my happiness, battling with reasons I should let myself feel joy.
“Okay,” I croak finally, my mouth dry and throat swollen with the lump lodged inside.
“Now, let’s go eat. And you’re buying. It’s the least you could do.
” She smirks, and I shake with quiet laughter.
She’s making this so easy. Too easy. I don’t deserve it.
But I take it. I take the soft landing. Because that’s what I wanted my mom to do when I claimed all the consequences for my own.
I wanted her to accept my love. And I accept Saylor’s.
And when my heart heals and I can find the right words, I plan on telling her just how much I love her back.