1. Sawyer
Sawyer
Owen swears today is going to be perfect. I wish I could believe him.
He’s already up, humming in the kitchen, and the smell of something burning drifts through the cottage. Heart-shaped pancakes again, probably. Raw in the middle but charred around the edges. His specialty.
Maybe he’s right. Maybe today will be a good one.
I head into the kitchen, trying to avoid the one creaky square of linoleum, and find him exactly where I expected, standing in front of the stove with a look of pure determination.
He always tries his best, despite being a terrible cook.
That’s my Owen, though. Always trying, always hopeful, always so sure that effort can fix anything. That and one of his bright smiles.
We’ve been at the summer cottage for three days already, and he’s made the same burned pancakes every morning. Our rental is smaller than the types of vacation homes Owen grew up in. The type of home his parents still own. The type of home that we all used to share every summer.
Every time I stub my toe on a cluttered corner, or wait too long for the hot water to kick in, or stare at a spot of chipped paint on the kitchen cabinet, I remember it’s my fault we’re not staying in something nicer.
It’s my fault we’re not all together. That I’m the compromise no one wanted to accept. Especially Knox.
It’s strange how quickly situations can change. How a life that felt more permanent than the ground beneath my feet could shatter and leave me picking up pieces that don’t fit together anymore.
Because it wasn’t always this way. Once upon a time, it had been the three of us. Me, Knox, and Owen. Even when their older half sister came around over the summers, she never truly fit in. We were something separate, something complete.
Owen slides my plate across the kitchen island, that perfect smile spreading across his face.
The same one that had gotten him elected student body president, chosen for homecoming king, picked for everything good that ever happened in our orbit.
“Come on, Sunny. You’re going to love it.
The whole family together, just like old times. ”
The nickname makes me smile. He’s called me Sunny since we were seven, and I covered my arms with an entire sheet of cartoon sun temporary tattoos. It probably had something to do with my outlook back then too, smiley and upbeat. Always sunny. Or at least when I was with Owen.
I stare down at the misshapen hearts on my plate, syrup pooling in the sunken doughy middle. “Just like old times,” I echo, reaching for my fork.
“Hey.” His warm hand finds mine, as reassuring as his voice. “My parents haven’t been easy…and I don’t blame you for being nervous. But I promise, it’s going to be a good day. I feel it.”
I want to smile back. To embrace the unwavering optimism that Owen always seems to carry. It’s one of the many reasons I love him. He has this boyish charm, this unshakeable belief that the world will bend to match his level of enthusiasm if he just smiles hard enough.
He’s been that way since we were kids, like it’s somehow innate.
Owen was the one who lifted me back to my feet when I fell off my pony for the first time, checking me for scrapes and bruises with gentle hands while I cried into his shoulder.
He was the one who always knew what to say when I bombed a test, or didn’t get the part I auditioned for in the school play.
“It’ll be okay, Sunny. You’ve got the next one. ”
Knox was different. Knox was the one standing at the edge of the high dive pool one summer, hands on his hips, calling up to where I clung to the ladder.
“What are you? Scared? Come on, Thorne. What are you afraid of? That you’ll break your neck?
” His laugh echoed off the water, full of challenge.
“You’re not going to die. And if you do, at least it’ll be an interesting way to go. ”
While Owen would have told me it was okay to climb back down, that there was no pressure, Knox made me want to prove him wrong.
He made me want to show him I wasn’t scared, even when I was terrified.
It was Knox hollering my name from below when I finally stood at the edge, Knox clapping and whooping when I closed my eyes and took the leap.
And it was Knox who said, “I knew you had it in you,” afterwards, like me quitting was never a thought in his mind. Like my fear never mattered.
When I got rejected from my first choice of colleges, Owen brought me ice cream, hugged me, and told me their loss would be some other school’s gain. Knox texted me. Good. That place was full of pretentious assholes anyway. You’re better than them.
Those were the easy days. The days when the worst thing that happened was a rejection letter.
Then came my freshman year of college, when everything fell apart. When I had to withdraw mid-semester, when walking anywhere in Ashford meant enduring stares and whispers that followed me like a shadow.
Owen drove three hours to help me pack up my dorm room. He didn’t ask questions, he didn’t make me talk about it. He just showed up, his presence a shield of normalcy I soaked up like an arid sponge.
Knox called me that night. “So what? Let them talk. They’re all cowards who’ve never had to fight for anything. Besides, you’re a Thorne. Act like it.”
That was before we knew my father’s mistakes would destroy both our families. Before Knox learned that standing up for me meant betraying his own blood.
After that, he never looked at me the same way again.
I manage to eat the fully cooked edges with the help of extra syrup while Owen cleans the kitchen. I even answer the questions he fires off.
“Did you get the tickets last night?”
“Yes.”
“All four?”
“Yes.”
“What about the line skipper passes?”
“Uh huh.”
My head is floating somewhere above the popcorn ceiling while a boulder sinks my gut to the floor. The resulting feeling is jarring as hell.
“Knox is such a dick when he has to wait in line. You already know…”
Owen goes on, his rambling letting me know that I’m not the only nervous one. My ever confident boyfriend’s nerves rarely show. I guess the year of decreased family contact has affected him too.
He wraps his arms around my shoulders, solid weight pressing in from behind, breaking me from my thoughts. His warm breath tickles my ear, the combination of sugary syrup and earthy coffee still lingering. And just like that, I’m whole again.
“Have I told you that I love you?”
I laugh against his freshly-shaven cheek. “Maybe once or twice.”
He brushes a warm kiss on my temple and glides his fingers along my bare upper arm, trailing up to massage my shoulders. “That’s all, huh? I guess I’ve been slacking.”
“Yup. I’ve been this close to putting in a complaint with the manager.” I pinch my thumb and index finger together to show an inch of space. “Employee is lacking on his words of affirmation. I suggest a demotion.”
He tilts my head back so I’m looking at his upside down face, his eyes crinkled in jest. “Not the manager! She’s a tyrant. How about I offer a compromise?”
“I’m listening.”
He leans in closer, touching his lips to mine. “What if I show you instead of tell you? Actions speak louder than words and all that.”
“Hmm.” I pretend to consider it, fighting back a smile. “I don’t know. That sounds like the same excuse you gave last time you were underperforming.”
“Underperforming?” A warm laugh grazes my mouth. “That’s a serious accusation, Miss Thorne. I might need to defend my honor.”
“Your honor or your ego?”
“Hmm? Both.” He kisses me deeper, slow and sweet, tasting like syrup and coffee and home. When he pulls back, his eyes are soft. “Better?”
“Getting there,” I tease, even though my body feels like I’ve been sitting under a heat lamp and my heart is practicing acrobatics.
“Guess I’ll have to keep trying then.” He presses another kiss to my forehead, then my nose, making me laugh. God, he’s goofy. “How about this? I promise to tell you I love you at least ten times today. Minimum.”
“Ten times? That’s ambitious.”
“Twelve if you win me a prize at the dart game.” His grin turns playful. “Fifteen if you beat Knox again at ski ball.”
The mention of Knox’s name pulls me back to reality, that boulder in my stomach gaining another pound or two. Owen must feel me tense because his arms tighten around me.
“Hey,” he murmurs against my temple. “It’ll be okay. We’re going to have fun today. Just you and me and some greasy, overpriced theme park food.”
“And Knox,” I add quietly. “And his girlfriend.”
“Ella. That’s her name,” he corrects, still keeping the same annoying but consistent optimism in his tone. “But mostly just us.”
“And later with your parents…Just dinner, right?” I ask again, even though I already know the answer.
“Only if you’re up for it. If you’re not, we can grab slices of pizza and come back here to watch a movie.”
He steps back to finish putting away the ingredients while I get up to wash my plate. “That sounds amazing. I think I’m already not up for it.”
He shakes his head, closing the fridge and spinning around to face me with a grin. “Honestly…you’re right. Maybe we should skip Wonder World altogether.”
“And miss the chance to hear you scream like a little baby on that new coaster? Never.”
“That’s not very nice.” His eyes light up with mischief as he stalks toward me. I back away, laughing.
“Owen. Don’t—”
He chases me from the kitchen into the bedroom, catching me easily and slinging me over his shoulder. “Say sorry.”
In between a fit of laughter and squirming huffs, I manage, “Sorry you cry on roller coasters.”
He spanks my ass and I can practically hear the grin in his voice. “You’re going to get it now.”
“Oh no, what are you going to do?” I tease, out of breath. “Tickle me? Force me to eat more burned pancakes?”
“Hey! They weren’t burned. Just well done.”
“Okay, buddy.”
My back flops onto the soft mattress, my nightshirt bunches up my thighs, and Owen hovers over me.
He looks so happy. And so damn handsome.
His hair is still damp from his shower, a wayward wave dangles forward, intentionally messy, in the Owen style.
A beam of morning light catches the hint of gold in his eyes, and for a moment, I forget about Knox.
I forget about the looming dinner with his parents.
I forget about everything except the man smiling down at me like I’m his entire world.
“Hi,” he murmurs, brushing a strand of hair away from my face.
“Hello. Fancy meeting you here, on our bed.”
He laughs and runs a knuckle down my cheek. “Still thinking about skipping today?”
I reach up, threading my fingers through his hair and pulling him down until his lips are almost touching mine, his length pressing into me. “Ask me again in five minutes.”
He smiles against my mouth. “Five minutes, huh? You really think that’s all I need?”
“I guess we’ll find out.”
His laugh is soft and warm as he kisses me, slow and deep, like we have all the time in the world. Five minutes becomes an hour, our hands tangled in hair, slowly undressing, my hips grinding against him, seeking the pleasure I desperately need.
It’s lazy, and sloppy, and perfect.
The type of summer morning I’d write about in a diary.
For that time, wrapped up in Owen’s arms with the sunlight streaming through the cottage windows, that boulder in my stomach goes away. Disappears into the void. There’s just us. I can do it for one day. Be like Owen and hold onto his optimism, pretend I believe what he said earlier.
“It’s going to be a good day. I feel it.”