by T. L. Keary
I just stare into his eyes, marveling at how we’ve gotten here.
And then I say I do, and he says I do. And we’re declared man and wife.
I kiss Davis like I’ve never kissed him before. Free of any weight, of any guilt. Free of the past and any imposters.
This is our future, the start of the story of Sawyer and Davis Knox.
I kept telling him there was no way, that it was impossible, but Davis kept insisting that he would deliver the best wedding present possible.
After the ceremony and the family dinner, and finally the reception party that seemed to last an eternity, I changed out of my dress and Davis and I were sent off with sparklers. We rode in the new SUV we purchased together. We cut through the fading light, though it isn’t dark just yet.
Davis insisted the reception had to be wrapped up before dark so he could do his big reveal.
We turn down one road and then another. We drive past homes that are halfway built, past all the construction equipment. And then our tires touch a driveway and we wind our way back through thick trees.
And then there it is.
It has the sleek modern charm that made me fall in love with the first, but it’s bigger and more dramatic with my touch. And it means everything, because we created it together.
That’s our house.
I kept telling Davis there was no way we could get it built in six months, but he promised he’d have it done for this night.
He delivered.
“Davis, this is amazing,” I say in wonder as he parks in the wide driveway. He smiles as he climbs out and goes to open my door for me. He takes my hand as he helps me out of the car.
“I deliver on my promises, Mrs. Knox,” he says, offering me a coy smile as he raises my hand and presses a kiss to the back of my knuckles.
I smile, shaking my head at my husband, marveling at how perfect and weird that title sounds in my head.
Hand in hand, we walk up the sidewalk and I take it all in.
It’s always an incredible experience, seeing something I designed come to life. When it’s no longer just paper and pencil marks, but wood and glass and metal.
My heart swells with satisfaction and excitement for what is going to happen in this house.
It’s a piece of both of us. Built right in the middle of our identities, our beginnings.
I’m so ready for our fresh start here in Woodinville.
Davis pulls his keys out and unlocks the front door. The smile begins forming on my face before he even grabs me. I knew it was coming.
He scoops me into his arms, grinning like a fool and I give a loud squeal.
“Welcome home, Sawyer,” he breathes, kissing me as he steps over the threshold.
I could take a moment to appreciate the beautiful house. I could admire the lighting or the floors. I could notice that it’s even completely furnished with everything we picked out together.
Instead, I just wrap my arms behind Davis’ head and sink further into his kiss. I let my mouth open wide for him, relishing in how perfect we fit together.
I groan as he aims down the hall where the master bedroom is. But he backs me against a wall before we reach it, my feet setting back down on the floor, letting his hands slide down my sides, to my hips, wrapping around back to pull me tighter to him.
This is it, the moment we’ve been holding out for for so long now. With the past always creeping in and interrupting, there’s a threshold we still haven’t crossed.
Ezra has been there, yelling in the back of our heads, weighing down on our chests. Charity has been there, mocking us with the insanity she put us through.
I didn’t know it, but from the day after I left after moving into my own apartment again, Davis couldn’t stay in his house. He’d gone to stay in one of his empty rentals. He couldn’t stand to be in the house where he’d shot a woman who looked just like me. He couldn’t sleep without me sharing the same walls, he’d said.
Ezra sold his house within three months of learning the truth about Charity. He moved in with his parents, and he’s still there so they can help with baby Kaden.
Charity changed everything. She uprooted entire lives, destroyed them.
But without her, Davis and I never would have intersected again. We’d still be living our separate lives. We never would have known Ezra had a problem. He never would have gotten the help he needed.
Am I supposed to feel thankful for what she did?
Hell no.
But how can I really hate her? Because she changed everything and somehow it all shifted into the exact place it should be.
For now, I choose to shove her out of my mind, as my husband’s hands reach lower, lifting me right off the floor. He carries me down the hall, pushing the door to the bedroom open.
I squeal as he topples both of us into the bed. Reaching up, I caress the side of his face as he looks down at me.
“I love you,” I say, feeling every one of those words.
“I love you too, Sawyer Knox,” he says, the intensity in his eyes growing, building the anticipation in my lower belly.
He leans down and kisses me.
Good riddance to being Sawyer James. The name is forever tainted. A bad memory with a bad taste on my tongue.
Being Sawyer Knox is so much better.
* * *
THE END
10 years ago, we tried to kill him…
Don’t miss T.L. Keary’s next trilling tale of twisted love:
* * *
OUR LAST CONFESSION
* * *
Mr. Anderson did something bad to one of our friends. Something despicable. So the five of us, high school seniors, tried to kill him.
* * *
We failed.
* * *
Now he’s back to finish the game we started ten years ago.
* * *
It’s the class reunion from your worst nightmare…
* * *
CHAPTER ONE
Ten years. That’s a long time. It’s been forever since I last saw most of these people. It’s been an entire decade since most of them last visited this place. But not me. I ended up right back where I started. And I’m not the only one. I’ve seen roughly a third of these people at some point over the past few years.
In ten years, some of us have gotten rounder. Some grayer. Some have spouses or kids in tow. Some of us have already been divorced, and some aren’t even alive anymore.
A lot can happen in ten years.
I smile at Lindsay Parrish as I climb out of my car. She steps out of a rental. Some people cared enough to come to this event that they bought flights and everything. I’m pretty sure Lindsay lives in Santa Fe now. Thanks to social media, you can keep up on people you haven’t seen in an entire decade and not feel totally out of touch.
Most people haven’t stepped foot back in South Whidbey High School in a decade. For me it’s been all of two days. My classroom is ready, prepped to go when school starts back up in three days.
As a 1-A school, there weren’t a million of us like on the mainland. There are only so many people out here on Whidbey Island—artists, or farmers, or even commuters who want to feel like they live in a rural area but still go into work in Everett or Seattle every single day via the ferry. All total, there were 152 students in our graduating class.
Welcome Home, Class of 2010!
The giant banner hangs over the main doors to the school, drawn in Sophia’s classic handwriting, splashed with glitter.
It really is high school all over again.
All we need is Rachel Tanner walking by with Tage Riggs’ tongue down her throat.
Except I spot Tage walking ahead of me, carrying a car seat with a baby in it, and that redheaded woman beside him certainly isn’t Rachel.
I hand my ticket to a man I don’t recognize. My guess is he’s some former student council member’s husband who got roped into helping. I step into the high school, noting the decorations that could be straig
ht from Homecoming 2009.
We file through the hallway, taking in the banners of the Falcons’ wins over the past forty years since the school opened. The common area opens up beyond there, the entire space filled with rows of tables, decorated in blue and yellow and white.
I scan the faces, picking out the familiar ones. I’m old enough now that I know it doesn’t matter, but still, I can’t help but notice those for whom age hasn’t been so kind.
I reached out to all of my close friends from school. There were five of us girls, all on the drill team. Not one of the four of them is making it.
I wouldn’t have necessarily come myself, but considering I come here every day nine months out of the year, I couldn’t think of a good excuse not to show up.
“Cassidy!” a cheerful voice calls. My eyes spot Rose Serrano toward the back row of tables, waving at me. “Come sit!”
I smile appreciatively, weaving my way through the aisles.
I pass right by Chad Edwards. His eyes meet mine. Neither of us smiles. Something cold hooks in my chest; something colder drops in my stomach.
We hold each other’s gaze for three seconds before I walk right by.
I sink into the seat next to Rose.
“Cassidy, this is my husband,” Rose says, excitedly introducing me to the man whose name goes in one ear and out the other. I tell him it’s nice to meet him. Rose says she’s living over in Mukilteo now. “And what about you? You’re a teacher here now, aren’t you?”
I nod, setting my glass of water back on the table. “Yep. I teach English. This will be my fifth year.”
“Isn’t that weird?” she asks, resting her elbow on the table, her head propped in her hand. She looks at me with absolute attention. “I mean, you spent four years of your life here. We thought it was the worst. And now you’re back, every day.”
“It was pretty bizarre the first year,” I say, offering her a smile. “Mrs. Mills actually got after me once for skipping class during my prep hour.”
“No, she didn’t!” Rose says, mock horror on her face.
I laugh and nod. “It was pretty embarrassing. But it’s normal now. And I know my dad appreciates having me back in town.”
“He doing okay?” she asks. She sounds like she genuinely cares, but it’s not like she’s ever actually met my dad.
I nod. “He’s fine,” I offer with a smile.
I happen to look up as Isobel Harris walks by. My eyes meet hers. She looks at me. Neither of us smiles. Something twists in my gut. We hold each other’s gaze for three seconds before she walks on by and goes to sit at the end of the row of tables, next to some guy from our class I’m pretty sure she doesn’t really know.
Rose continues chatting, telling me about her career, though I have no idea what it is. My eyes scan the crowd.
The former student council members who are putting this on are scrambling about in their matching sweaters, all blue and yellow and white. People I once considered friends, but who have drifted out of contact, sit all around me.
I watch as Landon Blackburn walks in, a pretty blonde with a big ring on her finger holding his hand. His eyes scan the crowd for a minute. Our eyes meet.
Neither of us smiles.
He looks away and goes to sit on the opposite side of the room, and the pretty woman sits next to him.
The student body president gets on the microphone, asking for everyone to take their seats quickly so we can get started in just a minute.
“Now that’s a surprise,” Rose says from beside me, leaning in close.
My eyes follow hers, searching through the crowd.
His hair is longer now, and there’s more scruff on his face, but I’d recognize Dallin Kelly anywhere.
“Did he even actually graduate?” Rose asks quietly.
“Barely,” I say, still looking at him. He stands there to the side, looking around, evaluating. He kind of looks like he’s considering turning right around and leaving.
I see Dallin’s eyes find Chad in the crowd, and they look at each other, neither of them smiling. And then Dallin’s eyes shift to mine, because I’m sitting directly behind Chad in Dallin’s line of sight.
Dallin makes his way into the crowd. He comes down the row just ahead of me. Chad doesn’t turn to look at him as he walks behind him. Dallin, catches my eye for just one second, before he takes a seat at the table right in front of me.
Rose asks me about teaching, how I like it, what other extracurricular activities I get involved with. I give her answers, though they’re automatic.
“You dating anyone?” she asks next. I wonder about her poor husband, who isn’t included in the conversation at all. He listens silently from his seat, looking down at his phone.
“Um, not anymore,” I answer as I continue looking around. “I was dating this guy in the spring. But I called it off over the summer.”
“What happened?” Rose asks.
But I’m saved from having to respond, because the class president stands back up and starts talking, thanking everyone for coming.
It’s a nice little speech. About moving forward, going on to bigger things, but never forgetting our roots. It’s very predictable.
And then dinner is served.
It’s a buffet. We all head for a line, and it moves slowly as we get our food.
I don’t mean to end up right in front of Dallin, but somehow he’s directly behind me. And then in steps Chad.
None of us look at each other for the first ten seconds. We pretend as if we don’t even see each other.
And then Chad’s wife seems to realize she knows Dallin.
“Chad, isn’t this Dallin, from the football team?” she asks, flashing a warm smile. She lays her hand on a pregnant stomach.
Chad, ever the charmer, flashes a wide smile. “Hey, Dallin! And Cassidy. How you been?”
Dallin offers a strained smile, nodding his head. “I’m good. You?”
“Good,” Chad says, his smile growing a little wider, looking almost forced. “Ah, Dallin, Cassidy, this is my wife, Payton. Payton, this is Dallin, from the football team. And Cassidy, from…”
He trails off, unsure of how to classify me.
I shrug. “We had a handful of classes together.”
That’s not the full extent of things, but easier than explaining that we had a month long fling our junior year. It wasn’t serious; no one’s feelings were hurt when we went our separate ways.
“It’s so nice to meet you both, officially,” Payton says, smiling. “And this is baby Lucas,” she says, rubbing her hand in a circle over her belly. “Due in seven weeks.”
“Congratulations,” I offer, smiling. And I’m genuinely happy for Chad.
“Congrats, Chad,” Dallin offers with what looks to be a genuinely happy smile.
We both step up to the buffet tables, and I know Dallin is just as glad to break off the conversation as I am.
I grab my food as I work my way down the line. I glance up at Dallin twice, waiting to see if he’s going to say anything, praying he doesn’t. I feel his eyes on me, but thankfully, he doesn’t say a word.
I finish getting my food and go back to my seat.
But feeling eyes on me, I turn, and see Isobel looking.
I shouldn’t have come. Being here, with these people, just brings it all back up.
And looking around the room, seeing the seat next to Isobel, I note that Emma isn’t here. Not that I can blame her. I hope wherever she is, she’s far, far away from here. I hope she never looks back.
I tell myself to enjoy the night and stop thinking about the past. So, I put on a smile, and I actually talk to Rose. I tell her about my students from last year. I tell her about my ex, how it all went down. I tell her about how South Whidbey has changed since she moved away ten years ago, but mostly all the ways it hasn’t.
I keep looking up at Dallin. He doesn’t talk to anyone. He was always the kid from the wrong side of town, not that that was really a place. But he was the
recluse. The troubled kid. The guy who would have done so much more if only he’d had any motivation.
My eyes slide over to Isobel. She talks to that guy, though it’s stiff and polite and awkward. I can’t figure out why she even came. She always hated everyone and everything about high school.
At least Chad and Landon seem to be enjoying themselves.
“This has got to be stressful,” Rose says as she pushes her plate away. “They decide to throw the reunion just a few days before school starts. Isn’t this your craziest time of year?”
I shrug, nodding. “It is. But I’ve gotten everything ready. My classroom is all put together. My books are ordered. If I’d left it all to the very last minute, I’d be stressing. But I kind of had everything ready to go two weeks ago.”
“You always were the organized one,” she says with a smile. “Glad to see some things never change.”
I smile, but I don’t get to respond when the class president, Brandon, stands back up and starts talking again.
He goes over a list of students who have passed away since our five-year reunion. Thankfully, the list only consists of two names. He talks about a fundraiser the school is doing, asking for donations. He lists the changes the school has undergone since we graduated, new additions to the building, and getting upped to a 2-A school.
The changes are slow, and seem like old news to me. But most everyone else hasn’t been here in a long, long time.
“Give a big hand to Mrs. Eaton and Mr. Fairbanks for helping put this all together,” the class president says. The two teachers stand up from that front table, waving to everyone. They’re the kind of teachers who have been here forever, and we all know that this school is their entire lives. They do this kind of thing every single year for every single class.
“And a special thank you to one surprise guest,” Brandon says. “He volunteered to help put this all together. He meant a lot to this class, helped a lot of us. And we all mourned his early departure. But South Whidbey High is very excited to announce the return of a familiar face. Please welcome back, Mr. Harlan Anderson.”
