Chapter 9 #2
As we approached the east side of town he said, “Where do I turn?”
I gulped. “Just drop me off at the next intersection.”
Everyone knew I lived in Edgewood, but the Casey residence in particular was in bad disrepair, especially since I started working at the diner a few years ago and had less time to maintain it.
I couldn’t imagine seeing it through Sawyer’s eyes. Peeling paint, shutters half-rotted and barely hanging on, roof sagging in places. At least it was dark out.
Sawyer made a harsh sound in the back of his throat. “Yeah, right. I’m not leaving you on the side of the road around here.”
I winced at the way he said here. He might as well have called my neighborhood Gomorrah.
“Where’s your house?” It was an order.
I eyed the door handle. Could I pull off a tuck-and-roll?
Reading my mind, he locked the doors and sped up. “I’ll just keep driving until you tell me. I’ll go all night.”
I crossed my arms and slumped in my seat. He would easily waste gas like that. Burn money without a thought.
The last thing I wanted was to be stuck with Sawyer longer than necessary.
“Take a right up ahead. Third house on the left.”
A minute later, we were parked in front of my house. He bent, looking through the windshield and past the wipers scraping futilely at the rain.
He blinked. “This . . . is your house.” His voice was almost monotone, and his expression was equally blank. Almost like it was too much for him to process. He’d never fathomed anyone might live in a dumpshack like this.
I swallowed, even as I lifted my chin. “Yeah.”
A boom of thunder struck, a comedic exclamation point on the tragedy that was my life.
When he didn’t say anything else, I said, “Alright,” and reached for the door handle.
“Wait!”
I turned to look at him, wary. But his expression was almost pained.
After a second’s confusion, I wrenched out, “Thank you for the ride.”
“Is your dad home?” he blurted.
My mouth opened and closed before answering. “I don’t know yet.”
“If your dad calls you tonight . . . to” —his throat bobbed on a swallow— “to bail him out. Will you call me? I’ll pick you up, take you to the station.”
My jaw dropped in a perfect imitation of a largemouth bass. “You’re joking.”
“No.” He shook his head emphatically. “I want you to call me. Not just tonight. Any night. Whenever it happens, call me. Maybe I could even, I don’t know, help.”
“How?” I scoffed. “Get Mayor Daddy out of bed and beg him to handle it?”
I knew I wasn’t being nice, that I was trying to make him mad so he’d drop the subject and leave. I was playing with fire. If I upset him too much, he might retaliate against me at school.
That didn’t scare me, though.
Five months.
I could handle anything for five more months.
But when I met his eyes, he didn’t look angry like I expected. His brow knitted, and he dipped his head.
“I know what you think of me, Brie, but I’m not like the others. My dad’s the last person I’d go to for help. And I wouldn’t tell anyone, I swear.”
My heart started an incessant pounding against my ribcage. I think he’s being sincere.
He reached for my hand and squeezed it. An electric current passed between us.
Heat rushed through me, a sensation I’d only ever heard my peers giggle about.
I didn’t have the luxury of experiencing it myself.
Crushes were for girls with free time. Girls who didn’t have secrets to hide, a sister to keep safe.
But I couldn’t help the way my breath stuttered when I saw his large hand wrapped around mine. There was something protective about it. It made me want to believe he could help if I just asked.
No.
I wouldn’t let my first crush ever be Sawyer. Because he was nice to me once.
How pathetic could I get?
I pulled myself together and snatched my hand back like he’d burned it, bitterness swirling in me even as my stomach clenched.
“You are exactly like the others,” I bit out. “In fact, you’re the worst of them because they all look up to you. Even if you don’t start it, you stand by while they treat me like the trash they think I am.”
Swinging the door open, I hopped out and turned toward him one last time.
“Don’t do me any more favors.” I slammed the door shut and raced across the mud to my door, not feeling the rain.
I shoved my key into the lock and was inside my house in half a second, heart thumping, listening for him to leave.
My breaths were coming out fast as I leaned back against the front door, allowing my eyes to adjust to the darkness inside.
The faint scent of old cigarettes and booze greeted me as always.
Finally, I heard his truck pulling off the curb and driving away.
He was gone.
For some reason, that hurt more than anything else.
I sucked in a breath and lifted my arm to brush the wet hair from my face. When I felt the soft leather on my cheek, a sob escaped.
My hand was still swallowed by the sleeve of his letterman jacket.
Lifting the lapel, I buried my face in it and took a big whiff, letting his scent envelop me and drive away the stale cigarette smell. Chlorine and Sawyer.
Suddenly, my chest felt too small, squeezing around itself.
I couldn’t help feeling like something had been lost tonight.
Something that was almost in my grasp.
Then the tears came.