Chapter 9
TWELFTH GRADE
brIE
I almost always walked home after working at The Square, the ancient diner located, that’s right, on the town square.
As I was counting my tips, making sure I could cover the overdue electric bill, I kept glancing out the windows. Rain was coming down in sheets. The rumble of thunder was getting closer, occasional lightning splitting the sky as the night wore on.
Temperatures were hovering just above freezing—too warm for snow, but absolutely cold enough to dread walking home.
The streets were already flooded.
All shift, I hoped Gia would stop in near closing. Why anyone would choose to live in Blue Ridge after college was beyond me. Hell, if it weren’t for Mara, I wouldn’t live here now.
I wasn’t complaining, though. Gia picked me up sometimes after I clocked out.
But tonight, when I turned the Open sign to Closed, my heart sank. I stood inside the door of the diner, peering out at the empty street. The pouring rain still hadn’t let up. No Gia.
I steeled myself for the cold and did my best to pull my hood over my head.
Five months.
The familiar mantra was pavlovian at this point. Something doesn’t go my way? Repeat the mantra.
Only five months until I graduated. Then I could be out of Blue Ridge forever.
I felt guilty leaving Mara behind, but Gia promised she’d have a two-bedroom by then. Mara wouldn’t have to live with our dad, and I knew she already was doing alright at school because there was no Sawyer in her class. She’d be alright.
My feet were already soaked by the time I walked the half block to Main Street. A gust of wind blew my hood off, freezing rain pelting my face. I swiped the hair out of my eyes as lightning flashed over head, cracking so loud it rattled my jaw.
All I could do was walk a little faster, water squelching in my shoes as I squinted to see past the next street lamp.
Headlights appeared behind me, illuminating my miserable path. I braced myself for a splash of water from its tires, but it didn’t come.
As the car slowed, a rock sank in the pit of my stomach.
Shit shit shit. Nothing good could come of a car slowing down for me in the middle of the night. I kept my head straight ahead.
“Hey!”
The word was almost drowned out by the rumbling thunder. I walked faster, but the car kept pace with me.
“Brie!”
My head snapped to my left at the familiar voice, deep and throaty. I squinted through my wet lashes.
Shit.
Sawyer.
Knowing it was him was both a comfort and a bane. Sure, I wasn’t about to be murdered by the mayor’s son, but that didn’t mean he wasn’t about to be cruel.
My body tensed as I faced forward again, navigating the freezing rain. That splash of water would probably come any second.
“It’s a fucking downpour!” he shouted. “What the hell are you doing out there?”
“Thought I’d do a polar plunge,” I yelled back without looking.
Five months.
“Very funny, get in!”
“Leave me alone, Sawyer.” I couldn’t begin to guess what he’d do if I actually did what he asked, but I wasn’t about to find out.
“I’m serious, Brie.”
“So am I. Go fuck yourself.” Despite being soaked to the bone, that felt good.
“Get in the damn truck, Brie!” His voice held none of his usual haughtiness. It was a frustrated growl, and I relished it.
A fresh gust of wind blew a veritable ocean at my face. Icy water dripped down my neck and into my sweater.
The sound of his engine revving caught me by surprise, and for a split second, I thought maybe he would murder me, run me over right here. A moment later he was blocking half the sidewalk with his truck, cutting the engine, and storming out like a bull.
Sawyer strode through the rain and began walking next to me, matching my pace step for step as I bypassed his truck.
“What the hell are you doing?” I demanded.
“If you won’t let me drive you, I’m walking with you.”
I turned to face him, not believing my luck. The stubborn son of a bitch. The spoiled brat. The absolute gall of him.
Sawyer wasn’t used to being told no.
“And why would you do that?” I spat.
He heard me, I knew he did, but he didn’t say anything.
“You’re getting soaked,” I informed him, speeding up.
“So are you,” he countered.
Thunder boomed directly overhead. My scream didn’t even register in my own ears as the thunder rolled on for seconds, heart galloping in my chest.
“Come on, it’s miserable out here.” He still had to shout to be heard, but his voice was softer.
More freezing rain trickled down the inside of my sweater.
I looked back at his truck just as lightning lit up the sky behind it. I could let him drive me for ten minutes, or I could walk through the storm for forty. And he really would walk with me the whole way, Sawyer was nothing if not tenacious.
“Fine,” I hissed. “Let’s get this over with.”
A minute later, the car was on, and he was cranking the heat. The stark temperature difference had me shivering, teeth clacking together. He clicked a button, and delicious warmth began to emanate from beneath me like nothing I’d ever felt.
Of course he’d have buttery leather seats that heated your ass.
It was heaven.
It felt so good after being on my feet for hours and then trudging through the cold and rain even for just a few blocks, I moaned as I sank deeper into the seat.
Startled, I looked over to see if he’d heard.
He was watching me, face half-illuminated by the streetlight. His eyes were dark, but not in the mean way his friends always looked at me.
It was in that way I sometimes caught him looking at me when they weren’t around. The way that made my stomach pinch.
I faced forward again, shivering despite the heat. We were still parked, and I watched as a crackling burst of light zigzagged down the sky, illuminating the truck for a brief moment.
“Here.” He reached for my jacket, and I flinched away. With a huff of frustration, he snarled, “I’m just trying to help. Your jacket is soaked through, take it off.”
He was right. This time when he reached over, I let him slip the sodden sleeves off my arms. After hanging it up on the back of his headrest, he turned to me.
Wet hair was stuck to my face, I was shaking from the cold. I must have looked like a pathetic stray dog.
Leaning over to reach for something behind my seat, he came back with his letterman jacket. With a stern look—a warning not to freak out—he gently draped it over my front.
Even though I didn’t know where this version of Sawyer came from, I wanted to trust it. None of the usual alarm bells were ringing in my mind to stop it.
I pulled the jacket up over me, letting the collar cover the bottom of my face. I got a big whiff as I did so. Chlorine and boy smell.
It . . . didn’t make me gag.
He was still watching me. “Fuck, you look awful.”
I was used to his insults, but something about him uttering it in the quiet empty cab, without an audience, stung more than normal.
He turned his whole body toward me, one hand on the dash, the other on the back of my seat, and frowned down at me. “Why were you walking home in the rain at this time of night?”
I looked at him over the top of his jacket. Part of me wanted to tell him to fuck off again, that it was none of his business. But something stopped me. I was in his truck, after all, covered in his jacket.
If he could play nice, so could I.
I said, “I do it all the time,” but it came out muffled.
Eyes still narrowed, the look in them shifted from frustration to amusement. The corner of his mouth lifted into a half-cocked smile.
He raised his hand and lowered the collar down, tucking it below my chin. “What was that?”
I ignored the backflip my stomach did. “I do it all the time. I work at The Square.”
“You know, you could get sick walking home in weather like this.”
I rolled my eyes without heat. It was exactly the kind of thing a privileged guy like Sawyer would say. As if I didn’t know the risks I took.
“Don’t have much choice,” I muttered.
“What?”
“I don’t have a rich daddy to buy me a truck,” I snapped.
“So yours lets you walk home in the freezing rain?”
I snorted. “Haven’t you heard? Daddy’s probably got his head on the bar at AA right now.” Altitude Adjustment, distastefully known as AA, was the dive bar on the outskirts of town Dad frequented to gamble and drink.
All the heat gone in my voice, I added, “I’ll be lucky if I don’t have to bail him out in the morning.” Any shame I should have felt at the admission wasn’t there. Maybe I was just too exhausted to feel it tonight.
He glanced at me, eyes disbelieving. “He makes you bail him out?”
I sniffed. “Gia won’t do it anymore. Says he’ll never change.”
There was a comfort in speaking it out loud, even to Sawyer. Dev and I danced around the subject of my dad. Gia refused to talk about him. And I tried to protect Mara from as much of it as I could. That meant it was always bottled up.
Now that it was just out there, it was a small relief.
That is, until he looked at me, disgusted. “Shit, Brie.”
I braced for the usual cutting remarks. Worse, probably, with the ammunition I just handed him.
Instead, almost as an afterthought, he put the truck into gear and started steering confidently through the torrents of rain. The storm didn’t seem to bother him, but with the looks he kept sliding my way, I knew I sure did.
Well, the feeling was mutual.
Tonight didn’t change anything: I hated Sawyer Strong.
I shivered. Straightening in my seat, I threaded my arms through the sleeves of his jacket.
“Five months,” I murmured.
“What’s that?” he asked.
Our eyes connected. His were guileless.
“Five months,” I said. “Then I can get the hell out of Blue Ridge for good.”
His jaw tightened. “Blue Ridge isn’t that bad.”
I couldn’t help the loud scoff. “Yeah, I’m sure it’s great for you, the Prince of Blue Ridge. But for me? It’s a little different,” I said, voice dripping in sarcasm. “Besides, the town’ll be glad to be rid of trash like me.”
A muscle ticked in his jaw as I used the word he’d used about me so many times.
Why was this getting to him?