Twenty-Eight
Gwen
“Xander?”
I call out as the twinkling of my keys and oversized keyrings hit the glass bowl standing on our random crap drawers.
I’ll organise them at some point.
As I stroll through our bold, bright home filled with cosy décor I obviously chose, a living room and kitchen combined with two bedrooms and a bathroom which tuck themselves away down a hallway, a stocky figure leaves the furthest bedroom and appears in said hallway.
“Hey, Gwen. Is everything alright down there?”
He’s referring to the bakery. Whenever he leaves work slightly earlier than usual – which is an incredibly rare occasion, but something caught him off guard on his phone today – he continuously worries about me having to deal with everything on my own from cleaning up to the finances. However, he forgets that I am not his little sister who waddles at knee height anymore. He needs time away from that place, I’ll have to see what I can do about getting him a break.
He waves a hand my way as he lounges in his usual white vest shirt and baggy joggers, peeling the fridge door open and grabbing a can of our usual premade gin and lemonade. He offers a can my way and I nod in return.
“Yes, I’ve left all the reports and cash collections in the office for you tomorrow.”
Both cans hiss towards Xander as he opens and pours them into two tall glasses, handing me a glass with one hand and wrapping his other around my shoulder, pulling me to his side. He kisses the top of my head, which I’ve learnt over the years is his way of showing his gratitude. He’s always shown his appreciation and love for those around him in actions and quality time but hardly ever his words. It causes new people to perceive him as this brute with muscle, but I know him far too well to understand that he craves and enjoys our evenings like this. Our evenings of cheap canned drinks, the newest season on the countries favourite baking competition, and the comfort of our floral candles and knitted blankets. Of course, I chose those as well.
As I scroll through the episodes, Xander’s head falls backwards onto the plump cushions and a deep, controlled exhale leaves his body. I grab his hand with my free one.
“What’s up? Is it to do with the reason you left early today?”
My thumb rubs circles on his rough skin as I press play, the pastel colours and fanfare introduction filling the room.
“Why must social media have memories? And why must it send me multiple notifications throughout the day of a memory I want to forget?”
He sits up and swigs his drink, sucking on his teeth slightly at the sharpness. Damn you, cheap lemonade.
“Him again?”
He nods silently, his eyes now fixating on the competitors preparing their baking station on our curved screen.
“Is there no chance that you could reach out to him? It’s been over a year, maybe you guys could talk things out?”
I offer my thoughts, but I know what Xander’s like.
“I can’t. Not after I hurt him.”
I bite my bottom lip slightly because I know there isn’t anything I can say to help him. Instead, I slide myself against his side and squeeze myself under his arm, hoping to provide some sort of comfort as we continue our evening.
After hours of watching, we finally reach the most recent episode, but we have also reached the bottom of our glasses on a few occasions. As I collect our empty glasses and make my way into the kitchen, stepping over Xander’s kicked out legs which rest on the coffee table, a sudden ringing screams throughout the flat. It’s the doorbell which we have just had installed – I’m still not used to it.
“I’ve got it.”
Xander lulls as he struggles to save himself from the comforting dip, which we both know is deadly to sit in.
“You’ve succumbed to the dip, I’ll get it.”
I drop off the glasses in the kitchen sink for tomorrow before throwing my blonde waves over my shoulder and answering the front door.
“Sawyer?”
I know that we have always offered our home to him whenever he needs it, but it has been so long since he’s accepted it that he serves as a surprise. He stands there, his cream jumper rising and falling rapidly as his chest seems to struggle for air. His face appears flushed in scarlet and paler shades of his usual tanned skin, and his hazelnut curls twist knots all over his head.
“I’m sorry.”
His voice is softer and cracking as his eyes meet mine, and I instantly usher him into our space. Xander finally sits himself up and is rising to his feet, bringing himself to Sawyer and removing his bags, settling them to the side. Sawyer’s body is here, but it seems his mind is elsewhere, and I have a strong suspicion as to where.
“Sawyer, babe, please sit down and talk to us.”
With my hands on his shoulders, I guide him slowly to the sofa, seating him in the middle as I sit to his right, Xander to his left. His head collapses into his hands as he throws his glasses onto the table and speaks.
“I fucked up massively.”
My hand immediately steals his and I begin to trace his freckles with my fingertip. His eyes find mine momentarily and he shoots me a half smile before falling back to the floor, and I always forget how many freckles he is truly blessed with until his glasses come off and reveal the clusters.
It took over an hour, but Sawyer spills everything. Xander and I listen intently, shooting the other looks over Sawyer’s shoulder in disbelief and surprise, not only at what that absolute devil has done to him all this time, but also at how much Sawyer has done and learnt about himself in such a short amount of time. All because of one reason.
“So, I’m homeless, jobless, Avory-less, and crying to my best friends about it all at eleven-thirty at night.”
Sawyer laughs to himself in a desperate attempt to stop the tears, but he’s too far gone, and rightfully so.
I can’t help myself as I throw my arms around his shoulders and my legs over his lap. We fall back against the sofa as Xander wraps his arms around the two of us, holding us both tight.
“First of all, hun, you are never homeless. You can stay here as long as you need.”
Xander hums in agreement.
“I can’t pay you guys, though!”
“Doesn’t matter!”
Xander declares.
“Sweetheart, we are your family, okay? We always will be, no matter where we all are in this fucked up world, we look out for each other. You determine who your family is, not the blood running inside you and whoever it relates to.”
I cup his cheek as I wipe his falling tears with my thumb. A small smile creeps across his cheeks as his eyes begin to flutter, followed by a yawn which he hides with his sleeve.
“I just don’t know what to do anymore, Gwen.”
Silence lingers between us all until Xander speaks up, “I think that right now, you are safe, you are surrounded by love, and you are very tired. Why don’t you get whatever sleep you can for now, and tomorrow we can all sit down, with clearer and not intoxicated minds.”
Xander shoots me a look then winks before continuing, “And we can discuss everything and see what can be done?”
A silent nod in agreement is had as Xander and I rise to our feet, Sawyer still struggling to move. I crouch by his feet, my head resting on his knees as I speak, “Hun, do you want the sofa or to share my room? It wouldn’t be the first time, so I don’t mind.”
I remember our school days of sleepovers and chatting about boys while sprawled out on my bed.
“Thank you, Gwen. I just don’t want to be alone.”
I stand up and offer my hand to Sawyer, and he gladly accepts. I walk him to my room, which he instantly recognises, and slowly begins to make himself comfortable, Xander following with his bags. As Xander strolls down the hall to his room, he beckons me over.
“What’s up? I’m not getting rid of him if that’s what you want,”
I whisper but also making sure he understands my serious tone.
“No, of course not! He can stay as long as he needs, he’s practically my adopted brother, too! I was wondering if you’re thinking the same thing as me, for Sawyer.”
When listening to Sawyer, I noticed one thing that stuck in my mind – how much he lights up when talking about Avory. This boy isn’t someone he just likes, someone who just turned up. No. This boy is something, someone special and I can’t shake the feeling that they’re meant to be. Now, I don’t know if it’s because we are siblings, but Xander and I always share thoughts on the same wavelength, so I throw my thoughts out to see if he’ll catch on.
“But Avory is leaving in a few days.”
“Then I guess I’ll be paying a visit to the shop tomorrow morning, then.”
As he winks and turns for bedroom, I catch his shoulder.
“Nope, sorry, but let someone his own age do it. Besides, you can’t get with the lead singer, you need to let that go,”
I chuckle quietly as he rolls his eyes.
I kiss his cheek goodnight before finding Sawyer, crashed and fast asleep, buried in my duvet.
“If all goes well, you won’t have this for much longer, sweet,”
I whisper as I kiss his forehead. I steal whatever duvet I can before crashing for the night.
I find myself waking up in the same position I fell asleep in, with the same bundle of duvet being spooned. I have never known Sawyer to have an undisturbed night, yet he didn’t wake up once last night, and I would know being such a light sleeper.
I sneak out of my room with a bundle of clothes hanging over my arm, and into the bathroom, I’m not willing to disturb Sawyer. He needs this.
I slip into a white cropped shirt and black high waisted jeans then throw my head towards the floor, catching my wild morning waves in one fist and wrangling them into a scrunchie I found on the bathroom counter. As I swipe a delicate amount of mascara over my lashes, and a gentle sweep of my eyeliner across my lids, I go to swing my cream cardigan over my shoulder, but the fabric refuses to open. This is Sawyer’s cream jumper – he won’t mind. I slowly pull the neck over my head, refusing to mess my hair or make-up, and sneak my way into the living room. Both boys remain in their rooms, as I carefully drag my keys from the bowl and quietly close the door behind me.
Standing outside Pick and Strings, I peer into the window to see Avory and Marcus having created some sort of game with their packing materials. Marcus stands and supports a tube of bubble wrap while Avory is ring tossing the rolls of Sellotape in his direction. As I grab the door handle, I stifle my laughter since Avory completely misses and the roll hits Marcus’s face instead.
Gwenifer, pull yourself together. This is for Sawyer.
I exhale as I push the door open, a familiar ringing filling my ears. That ringing causes a slim yet tall figure to rise from packing boxes and turn to face me.
“Hey there, I’m sorry but most of our stock is—Gwen?”
His forced smile for customers fades and turns genuine. He steps towards me as he speaks. “What are you doing here?”
His smile remains as he cocks his head to the side like a confused puppy. His hair falls to one side, revealing a chain earring dangling from his lobe, and I continue to understand why Sawyer has fallen for him.
“Avory, my question is what are you doing here—”
“Well, we’re packing—”
“—And not with Sawyer?”
My interruption causes Avory’s eyebrows to furrow. His lips continuously part and seal together, the start of words escaping but nothing else. I raise my eyebrows and eventually, the words tumble out of his mouth.
“Gwen, he asked me to leave. I respect him, I treasure him, I love—As much as it hurts, because it hurts so goddamn much, I must respect his decision, his safety.”
“Can’t you see that this wasn’t the decision that he wanted to make?”
Avory’s gaze averts away, his eyes seeming to follow the natural patterns of the woodwork surrounding us. I watch the increasing speed of his chest rising and falling, but I need to push him. He needs to understand.
“Gwen, I’m not willing to put him in any form of danger. You know about his mother; you know about the life he’s been forced to lead—”
“Do you even know where he is now? What’s he’s done since you two went your separate ways?”
His eyes look into mine as I speak.
“He turned up at our door last night. He’s parted ways with his mother, he’s left his home, he’s left the café, and he did that all…”
My words trail off as Avory’s lip’s part slightly, a sudden realisation spreading across his face.
“All because you made him realise who he really is, and he’s no longer willing to hide that. While he’s more than grateful for that, you made him realise something else, too.”
I take his hand in mine because I can see a tremble forming in his fingers. He has no freckles for me to trace, so my thumb rubs circles instead.
“Is what you’re about to say going to make me want to abandon absolutely everything Marcus and I have worked for?”
His voice trembles similar to his fingertips, and I take one step closer to him because I will not allow him to ignore these words.
“That loving a man, that loving you is not wrong. His family’s opinion is the only thing that’s wrong in this situation.”
Avory’s head drops as a toothy grin spread across his face, and I’m hoping that I’ve finally gotten through to him. Eventually, his head raises and while his smile lines remain, his smile disappears.
“Gwen, we leave in a few days, what can I do? Papers are being signed tonight, and Marcus is going to meet our new manager for drinks.”
As Avory puzzles over our new situation, Marcus silently strolls into the room from the doorway tucked at the back of the shop. As he creeps forward, his hands land on Avory’s shoulders, and a voice full of bass and warmth emerges.
“Oh, I’m sure my boy and I can figure something out. You know how much I struggle with all of this computer work.”
He winks over Avory’s shoulder.