Chapter 20
IVY
W e park out front of Sawyer’s house and I climb out of his truck. He grabs my two bags effortlessly and I follow him into the house. It’s a gorgeous home and it’s clear he’s worked hard on it. The front door opens to a small mudroom, where I kick my Converse off and set them to the side, then walk behind Sawyer down a short hallway that leads to an open-concept living space.
“I know you’ve been here before, but I didn’t really give you much of a tour. My mind was elsewhere,” he says.
“It’s okay. Mine was too.”
“Let me brew us some coffee, you mind if I shower first?”
“No, go ahead. I’m sure you want to get out of those pants. I can figure out the coffee.” I give him a cheeky, knowing smile. He smiles back at me, his face lighting up, before dropping his lips to my forehead for a quick kiss.
“I’m happy you’re here. I don’t know if I’ve said that yet. I won’t be long. Make yourself comfortable.”
“K.”
I watch Sawyer jog to the short hallway off of the main living space before disappearing. I make my way into the kitchen to make a cup of desperately needed coffee. I fell in love with his kitchen when I woke up looking for coffee the other morning. It’s a sleek modern design, but somehow compliments the natural aesthetic of the rest of the house. The room makes a square “U” shape, with a large island in the center. The counters are a gorgeous white marble, and the contrast of the black cabinets pulls the room together beautifully. The top cabinets have glass doors, so it’s not so dark that it feels like the room is closing in on you. I drop a K-Cup into the Keurig and walk over to the gas range while it brews. My heart aches to create in here. I miss cooking. Zoe’s kitchen isn’t much more than a kitchenette, and it’s been weeks since I was let go from the restaurant. I run my hands across the stainless steel before grabbing the milk, sugar, and cinnamon to finish making my drink.
Coffee finally in hand, I head to the floor-to-ceiling windows that run the entire length of this side of the house, coming to an arch in the center. I look up at the exposed beams and practically drool. When I was out here the other night it was completely dark, other than the light given off by the fire, and the next morning I was so preoccupied I didn’t really look around. I knew we were on the edge of town, but I had no idea the views he had. Past the tall Sitka spruce trees lay the gorgeous mountains with their white tips standing guard over our peaceful little town.
I turn to the living room and walk over to the brown leather couches that make an “L” in front of a large, stone fireplace. A flat screen tv rests above it. I sit down and curl my legs under myself, staring out the window while sipping on my hot coffee. For the first time in a very long time, I feel calm.
My thoughts drift to Sawyer moving on top of me this morning, making a heat bloom from my chest to my cheeks. That connection between us never faded, just laid dormant. It’s like no time passed at all. Just being in his presence, I’m absorbed wholly, nothing else matters. He has the ability to knock down every wall I’ve built over the last decade and reduce me to my raw and bare form. He sees right through my carefully constructed fa?ade.
I expected him to hate me. When he showed up that first night, while stunned, I braced for wrath, a slew of angry questions, and a demand for answers. But none of that ever came.
It was as if the moment he saw me, everything he had been harboring was whisked away with the breeze. All that remained was concern and relief.
Everything since then has been nothing but supportive, holding me, both physically and metaphorically, with so much tender care.
I look around Sawyer’s space, his woodsy sweet scent surrounding me, and can’t believe I’m here. I know the truth now, deep down I always did, but I was terrified and wanted to make my mom proud. I didn’t want to be the final straw that broke her completely by staying in Aspen Ridge because of Sawyer. It would have ruined her. I know I never should have left. The life I wanted was always right here with him.
But can I come back from that decision?
Can I just stay here after being gone for so long and leaving the way that I did?
Would this be what life was like with Sawyer? Comfort and safety, peace. Happiness that didn’t ebb and flow, just calm and steady—so much like him.
Sawyer returns, shirtless, a pair of gray sweatpants hanging low on his hips, exposing his V. Why is it so ridiculously arousing to see men in gray sweatpants, no shirt, and bare feet? Panties are dropping all over the world every time a man dresses like this.
I slowly peruse his body from bottom to top before meeting his eyes. He’s so fucking sexy.
“Like what you see, baby?”
I give him a seductive smile, unable to resist this power that he has over me.
“You know I do. You see yourself, right? Time has been good to you, Sawyer.”
“You should talk. I thought you were beautiful back then, but fuck, Ivy, now?” He rubs his hand over the coarse stubble on his jaw and shakes his head. “There aren’t words to describe how sexy you are.”
My face flames as a blush rises.
“Thank you for saying that.”
“I only speak the truth. Always have.”
He leaves that lingering in the air between us as words from the past drift through my head.
“I know we’re young, but I know we’re meant to be together.”
“I love you, Ivy, don’t ever forget that.”
“Easy, baby. Wish granted.”
“Like you’re the most beautiful girl I’ve ever seen. Like the world would come to a complete standstill if you weren’t in it. Like you’re the only girl I’ll ever love.”
“Do you really think you could do anything to make me hate you? Do you think I could share my life with anyone but you after what we had? You think any amount of time apart could change how I feel about you, butterfly?”
“Do you think any amount of time has changed what’s between us?”
Tears prick my eyes but I hold them at bay. This man never stopped loving me. I buried it deep out of pure survival, but I never stopped loving him either. I get up from my seat and set my mug down on the coffee table before walking right up to him until our chests are pressed together.
“I missed you,” I whisper, before reaching up on tiptoes and kissing him.
He may not know it, but ever so slowly, he’s healing me.