Chapter 16
Alice
The Pine Hollows Music Festival is exactly what you’d expect from a small town.
String lights hanging between the trees, food trucks parked around the community center, and local bands playing on a makeshift stage.
Madison dragged me here after work, insisting I needed to “get out and have some fun.”
“This is actually kind of nice,” I admit, watching people dance while kids run around with cotton candy.
“See? I told you.” Madison nudges me with her elbow. “Look, there’s your cop friend.”
I follow her gaze and see Sawyer near the beer tent with another officer—sandy blonde hair, easy grin, clearly charming someone nearby. My stomach does that flip thing it always does when I see him. They’re both in uniform, clearly working the event.
“He’s not my cop friend,” I say, but I’m already smoothing down my sweater. “He’s just a customer at the bank.”
“Right. That’s why you’re primping.”
Sawyer spots us and walks over during what looks like a break. “Hey, Alice.”
“Hi. You working tonight?”
“Yeah, overtime. Gotta love festival duty.” He gestures to the other officer. “This is my partner, Chris. Chris, this is Alice.”
Chris turns toward us and flashes that easy grin at me. “Nice to finally meet you. Sawyer talks about you all the time.”
Sawyer gives Chris a warning look, but I’m smiling. “All good things, I hope.”
“Definitely,” Chris says, then his attention shifts to Madison, looking her up and down with obvious interest. “And you are?”
“Madison. Alice’s fun best friend.”
“Madison,” Chris repeats, that grin widening. “I like that name.”
Madison actually blushes, which is rare for her. “Well, the best people are named Madison. At least in my opinion.”
Sawyer rolls his eyes. “Chris, we should probably—”
“Hey, we’re on break for another ten minutes,” Chris says, not taking his eyes off Madison. “Want to grab a drink? I mean, I can’t drink while I’m on the clock, but I could walk you there.”
“Yeah, sure,” Madison says, trying to sound casual but failing.
As they walk away, I shake my head. “That was fast.”
“Chris works fast,” Sawyer agrees. “Just a fair warning—he’s trouble.”
“Then he and Madison should get along just fine.”
We stand there for a moment, watching the band play. There’s something nice about having Sawyer next to me, even if he is technically working. Maybe I'm overthinking everything. Maybe I'm safe here.
“How are you enjoying the festival?”
“It’s fun. I haven’t been to something like this in forever.”
“Well, that’s good to hear.”
“Sawyer!” Chris calls from across the area. “We’ve got a situation by the stage.”
Sawyer sighs. “Duty calls. I’ll be right back.”
I nod, watching him head toward the stage.
I spend the next hour wandering around until Madison finds me. We sample food from different trucks, and I have more drinks than I probably should. The music is good, the atmosphere is relaxed, and for the first time in months, I feel completely carefree.
By the time I see Sawyer again, I’m definitely tipsy. He’s finished dealing with whatever the situation was, and he finds me sitting at a picnic table, giggling at something Madison said.
“Having fun?” he asks, sitting across from me.
“The best time,” I say, probably too enthusiastically. “You’re really good at this whole protecting people thing, you know that?”
“Thanks. How much have you had to drink?”
“Not that much. Just enough to feel good.” I lean forward, studying his face. “You have really nice eyes.”
Sawyer glances at Madison, who shrugs. “She’s been like this for the past twenty minutes.”
“Ali, maybe we should get you some water.”
“I don’t want water.” I stand up. “I want to dance. Dance with me.”
“Alice—”
“Come on please? Just one song.”
He looks like he wants to say no, but then the band starts playing something slow, and I reach for his hand. “Come on.”
I pull him toward where other couples are swaying to the music. It’s not really dancing, just holding each other and moving slowly, but it’s perfect. Sawyer’s hands are on my waist, and I can smell his cologne.
“This is nice,” I murmur, looking up at him.
“Alice—”
“You know what? You make me feel safe. Really safe. I haven’t felt like that in a long time.”
“Alice—”
"I really want to kiss you right now."
I rise up on my toes, my hands sliding up to his shoulders. But his hands on my waist gently stop me, holding me in place.
“Alicat, you’ve been drinking.”
“So? I still know what I want.”
“And tomorrow you might regret it.”
The rejection stings, even though part of me knows he’s right. “You don’t want to kiss me?”
"That's not what I said." His voice is gentle. "I don't think you understand how hard it is to say no to you right now."
For a moment, we just stand there. His hands on my waist. Mine on his shoulders. So close I can feel his breath.
Then reality crashes in.
I step back, embarrassment washing over me. "Right. Of course. I'm sorry.”
“Hey, it’s fine—”
“I should go find Madison.” I turn away before he can say anything else.
The ride home is quiet and mortifying. Sawyer insists on driving us, and I spend the entire time staring out the window. Madison tries to make conversation, but I can barely respond.
“Thank you,” I mumble when he pulls into my driveway.
“Alice, about earlier—”
“It’s fine. Don’t worry about it. Good night.”
I practically run into my house, leaving Madison to follow behind me.
"Ali, you're being ridiculous," she says once we're inside. "He was being a gentleman."
"He didn't want to kiss me."
"He didn't want to kiss you while you're drunk. That's different. That's actually... really sweet." She sits next to me. "He wants to kiss you when it counts."
But I already regret everything. I regret drinking too much, I regret throwing myself at him, and I regret that the first time I tried to kiss Sawyer, I was too drunk to do it right.
Maybe I mess up every good thing that comes into my life. Lance always said I was dramatic, that I created problems where there weren't any.
No. I stop that thought. Lance was wrong about a lot of things. This isn't me creating problems. This is just... an awkward moment. People have those.
The next morning, I wake up with a mild headache and a major case of embarrassment. What was I thinking? Sawyer must think I’m some kind of mess who throws herself at men when she’s had too much to drink.
But underneath the embarrassment, there's something else. Relief, maybe. Because he stopped me. Because he wants it to be right. That means something.
My phone buzzes with a text, and my heart stops when I see it’s from him.
Sawyer: How are you feeling this morning?
I stare at the screen, debating. He doesn't seem bothered by last night. And I remember everything that happened—which means it wasn't as bad as I'm making it.
Right?
Me: Embarrassed. I’m really sorry about last night.
His response comes quickly.
Sawyer: Nothing to be sorry for. Coffee later?
I hesitate. Part of me wants to hibernate under my covers for the rest of the year. But another part of me knows that hiding won’t fix anything.
Me: Maybe another time.
I can't take back last night. But next time I kiss him—and if there is a next time—I'll be sober enough to remember every second of it.