Sawyer Says

by Carey Heywood

  He shrugs. “That’s too bad. It’s been fun working with you.”

  “I’m a pain in the ass. Trust me. I have single friends, though.”

  “I’m probably a pain in the ass too. I don’t have much free time these days to date.”

  “Well,” I grin, “if you ever need a date...”

  “I’ll keep that in mind,” He’s grinning too.

  I head home not long after. I’m just in the door when my grandmother’s executor calls. The estate sale had been successful and anything that had not sold has already been taken to the shelter for donation. The house will officially go on the market tomorrow, but two realtors have already contacted him with buyers that are interested. The house is well known in town, so it should sell quickly. The tax hit will suck, but after that is set aside, the remaining money can just be deposited into my trust account.

  It feels weird taking money from her. Part of me wants just to donate it all to charity. Speaking of charity, her executor asks if I’d like to continue the annual donation to the Hamilton Farm. I have no idea what that is, so after I look into it, I’ll let him know what I plan to do going forward.

  He asks me again what to do with her remains. I make some excuse about needing to go. It isn’t a lie. I do need to send some emails, but they aren’t anything urgent enough that I would have to hang up. After we hang up, I send emails to Catherine and Sheila to let them know the opening will be delayed. Both of them currently work out of their homes so it’s not as if it’s a giant impact to either of them, which makes me feel better.

  I’m on my mat going through some relaxation poses when Jared gets home.

  “That’s a nice view.”

  I laugh, dropping my pose and ass to the floor.

  “Aw, I shouldn’t have said anything,” he says, taking off his coat.

  “Hush.” I kneel next to my mat and roll it up. “Still as sore today?” I ask, standing.

  He flops down onto the sofa. “Not as bad as yesterday.”

  “Sweet.” I crawl into his lap and kiss him.

  Is it possible for someone to smell like snow? I wonder to myself as I pull his earlobe between my teeth. He grinds his hips against mine. His hands are hot on my waist as he presses my body closer to his. As we kiss, we talk. I tell him about the delays to the studio. He tells me how the lifts malfunctioned halfway through the day, leaving skiers and snowboarders dangling while they fixed them.

  Somehow, with his lips on my skin, I don’t care about anything else. None of it matters. It’s when he mentions his mom’s in town and wants to have dinner with us that I pull away.

  “What’s wrong?” he asks. I’m now across the room and not in his arms.

  “Did you say anything to her about us?” I ask.

  His eyes widen. “Yes. Is that wrong?”

  I start pacing. “Of course it is. What did you tell her? Why didn’t you talk to me about it first?”

  His knee bounces as his leg shakes. “I told her I’m in love with you.”

  My shoulders sag. “Why would you do that?”

  He runs the tip of his tongue across the underside of his teeth before rubbing his lips together. “Are you angry at me because I told my mom how I feel about you?”

  I look away. “I just wish we would have talked about what we were going to say to people first.”

  He stands and walks toward me before he changes his mind and walks to the kitchen instead. He opens the fridge, pours himself a glass of water, and drinks about half of it before looking back at me.

  “What would you want me to call us, Sawyer?”

  I shake my head. “I don’t know.”

  He looks up at the ceiling, making me miss his hazel eyes. “I don’t know what else to do. I feel like you’re pushing me away.” He lowers his head, eyes locking on mine. “Are you pushing me away?”

  I nod, unable to lie to him.

  He looks back at the ceiling, and I can’t help but follow his gaze, wondering if there are answers somewhere up there.

  When he looks back down, he keeps his eyes on the glass in his hands and not on me. “Why are you pushing me away?”

  This time, I do walk over to him. I take his glass from him and set it on the counter. I fold his arms around me. “I don’t know how to do this.”

  “We don’t have to do anything, Sawyer. We can just be together.”

  “It’s not that easy. I don’t know why it bothers me that your mom knows. It just does.”

  His arms relax around me. “Are you tired of me?”

  I head-butt his chest. “Don’t be a dumbass.”

  This is progress. She didn’t run. She could have. She could have walked right out that door and out of my life. I wrap my arms around her and lift her. Any residual soreness is forgotten. Her skin is the only balm I need. I probably should have talked to her before I outed us to my mom.

  Thank fuck it worked, though. It feels like another step. A step to her admitting there is something here. If people know, maybe she will be less likely to bail. I’ll take all the help I can get. Besides, my mom is like slow pitch softball, a bunny hill. She knows Sawyer and already loves her.

  I won’t have to worry about her doing or saying anything to freak her out. That just isn’t my mom’s style. I’ll be shocked if she talks about anything on dry land. Sawyer and my mom are similar that way, able to live without attachments. It sucked growing up that way, but I had my dad to lean on. Shit, my dad.

  If anyone was likely to say something to freak Sawyer out, it will be him. I need to remember to text him before we leave. I hope that he’ll be cool and not mention anything crazy like getting married or anything. That, sure as shit, would send her running. Dinner isn’t for a couple weeks.

  I picture her in that yoga pose she was in when I walked in. It was sexy as hell, her strong legs stretching upward with her ass in the air. I carry her toward her room, her lips searching for mine. She can fight me every step of the way, but it’s going to hit her at some point, how right we are together.

  Her slender arms coil around my neck as I nudge her door open with my foot. Once we’re at her bed, I toss her. She lands softly, laughing at me before I launch myself at her. One thing she hates is being treated like glass.

  She’s tough and stronger than anyone I know. I don’t have to hold back. My excitement only turns her on. She’s like a powder-keg ready to blow, all nerve endings. I’ll never stop wanting to make her lose control, and we have plenty of time.

  Dinner was strained at best. I wasn’t expecting Jared’s dad and his new wife to be there, as well. I guess that after twenty years of divorce, Jared’s mom and dad are friends now. Wendy’s even staying with them instead of staying at a hotel. Who does that? Vacation at their ex-husband’s house? Mr. Keller and his new wife, Jane, are cool, so I guess they don’t care; and Jared always said their split was friendly. Wendy’s more of a free spirit and tried marriage, but it just wasn’t for her.

  All through dinner, I feel this expectation to be a couple for them. I don’t know how to do that. I avoid Jared’s hand when he reaches for mine. When we’re seated, I make a point to choose the chair away from his. If they notice anything is off, they don’t say so. Jared seems pissed the whole meal, though; that or hurt.

  His mom tells us about her new house in Vancouver. She’s working for an aquarium up there and studying orca. She seems happy. She hasn’t remarried, and as far as I know, she’s single. Not every person on the planet is supposed to end up in a couple. His mom’s proof of that. I wonder if I’m like her.

  Given that she’ll only be in town a couple more days, she asks if she can see the progress on the studio before she leaves. I don’t even look at Jared before agreeing. We aren’t really talking since I freaked out on him. He’s even been sleeping in his room again. Now I can’t sleep. After dinner, he surprises me by deciding to go back to their house with them, so even though we came together, I’m leaving alone.

  It’s my own fault. I’m pushi
ng him away, and we both know it. I’m doing it for him, though. He deserves someone who wants all of that. The whole thing, marriage, kids, growing old together; I get hives agreeing to a two-year commitment when I upgrade my phone. The last time I wanted a new phone, I just bought it outright to avoid feeling tied down.

  When he never comes home, I feel relief and rejection at the same time. I might be fucking mental. I’m a zombie the next day and am not looking forward to meeting Wendy at the studio. She’s waiting by the door when I pull up and park.

  “Why didn’t you just knock?” I ask, walking up.

  “They would have let me in?” She raises a brow at my appearance.

  No shower, top knot/pink bird nest on the top of my head, thrift store gem of an old-lady coat, plaid baby-doll dress over jeans, tucked into black combat boots; certain I looked cute, I give myself a quick smell test to make sure I don’t reek. The results are inconclusive.

  She doesn’t plug her nose or breathe through her mouth when she hugs me so I figure I don’t stink.

  “You look tired.”

  Ahh, tired. That’s what her concerned look is about. “I didn’t sleep well. I’ve scheduled a nap for later.” I hold my hand up and add a trigger-finger mouth-click combo before banging on the door.

  John opens it, surprised to see me again so soon.

  “I have a friend visiting. She wanted to see the place before she heads back to Canada,” I explain.

  He holds the door open for us and bobs his head in greeting as I introduce Wendy. There are some men assembling cabinetry. They briefly glance in our direction.

  “The space is amazing, Sawyer,” she gushes once we’re in the actual studio.

  I glow under her praise. It’s a relief. I’ve always looked up to her. “Thanks, Wendy. It means a lot to me that you like it.”

  She wraps one arm around my shoulders and hugs me toward her side. “So what’s up with you and Jared?”

  I sag. “Jared’s great. You know that. I’m just not built for long term.”

  She puts her hands on my back, correcting my posture before ducking her head to look me in the eyes. “Says who?”

  “Um, Sawyer says.” I laugh awkwardly at my joke.

  She sits on a folding chair and gives me her best shrink look. “Why do you feel that way, sweetie?”

  “I don’t know how to explain it. I just don’t do long term, and I haven’t ever felt like my world would end if I wasn’t with someone,” I try to explain.

  “I think you’re confusing love with obsession. You’re already a pro at relationships and an expert at long term. Look how long you’ve been friends with Jared and Sarah.”

  “But that’s different,” I argue.

  “Is it? In new relationships, there is always passion, a spark, and an intensity that is all consuming. That doesn’t mean that once the newness wears off, there isn’t real love there.” She stands. Walking over to me, she pulls my hand into hers. “Don’t let your stubbornness stand in the way of your happiness.”

  “But you’re alone, and you seem happy. In fact you seem happier than I’ve ever seen you.”

  “I’m seeing someone.”

  She winks at me when my mouth drops. “Have you told Jared?”

  She blushes. “Yes. He gave me the same look you just did. His name is Paulo.”

  “Shut up.” I knock her hip with mine. “What’s he like?”

  “He works at the aquarium with me, and he’s just great.”

  We walk to a sandwich shop in the same strip mall as my studio, and I pester her until she tells me more about him.

  Before we leave, I ask, “You’ve seemed happy on your own for so long. What changed?”

  She takes a sip of her drink. “I don’t think I ever made a conscious decision to avoid relationships after the divorce. You know, Jared’s dad and I were only nineteen when we got married. Looking back, we were probably too young. With Paulo, it just happened organically.”

  After hugging her and promising to someday make it up to Vancouver to visit her, I head to Petey’s place. We go way back. He’s cool, doesn’t get all annoyed if I drop off the face of the earth every so often.

  I always come back. Last time I saw him was when Will bought Sarah’s engagement and wedding rings. I shake my head. Will had wanted to go to the mall. Not for my best friend. I stop by a drive-thru on the way to pick him up a strawberry milkshake.

  I flip the sign to closed and lock the door behind me as I call out to him.

  “Sawyer, is that you?” He pokes his head around a corner and continues, “How’d it go at your grandma’s?”

  “All right, I guess. I brought you a shake.” I hold the cup up with a grin.

  He presses both of his hands to his heart. If he was a preteen girl, he might have also squeed. “Thanks, small fry.”

  I pass him the shake. “Anytime, Petey. Besides, I need a favor.”

  His brows touch as his forehead wrinkles. “Whatcha need, kiddo?”

  I dig around in my purse until my fingertips brush across the velvet case of my grandmother’s ring. “I found this at her house, and,” I pause, “I feel like it was important. Can you look at it?”

  He motions for me to follow him to his office. He sits behind his desk, and I fall into one of the chairs across from it. I slide the ring across the table to him. He pulls out a magnifying glass thing and turns on a desk lamp before examining the ring.

  “It’s a nice setting and a trap cut. Good quality. I’d say it’s half a carat.”

  I nod. “Do you think it’s special?”

  He moves his glass and turns off the desk lamp. “It’s a very nice ring. I have a feeling it was special to your grandmother.”

  “So, in your opinion, what kind of person would this ring be important to?”

  He makes a face and takes a drink of his shake. “I ain’t a frufru object whisperer. Why are you asking?”

  I pull my knees up and hug them to my chest. “I can’t figure that lady out. I guess—I guess I’m scared I might even be like her somehow.”

  “Like your grandmother?” Petey tilts his head to the side, reading my face like a billboard.

  I look at my knees to avoid his eyes.

  “Why do you think you might be like her?”

  I contemplate avoiding his question. I’ve known Petey for longer than I’ve lived in Denver. I figure the whole pulling the Band-Aid off technique is the best way to go. “She didn’t love me and didn’t want me, and Jared told me he loved me, and I just don’t know if I can love him back. Is knowing how to love hereditary?”

  I reach out, pluck the ring from his fingertips, and form a fist around it. “Is her holding on to this a sign that maybe she did love stuff, just not me? That’s what I want to know.”

  “Why are you so sure she didn’t love you?” he asks gently.

  I look back down at my knee. “She didn’t want me.”

  “Said who?”

  My head pops up, and I glare at him. “She shipped me off within two days of getting me. I never spent one other night in her house while she lived. If she cared or wanted me, why did she send me to live with other people?”

  “Have you ever asked any of the people you stayed with? They clearly must have been close with your grandmother for them to take you in when she asked.”

  I shrug. I hadn’t really thought about it. I groan when I think I was just with Jared’s mom, my first caretaker. Why hadn’t I asked her?

  “You are a genius.” I jump up and lean over the desk to kiss the top of his head and grab the velvet case. I tuck the ring back inside before I slip it back into my purse. I flip the sign back to open and take off toward Jared’s dad’s house.

  I’m ringing the bell before I know it.

  Wendy’s eyes widen when she opens the door. “Sawyer, is everything okay?”

  I shake my head. “I just—can we talk?”

  She puts her arm around my shoulder and pulls me into the house. “I was about to call
for a car to take me to the airport.”

  “Why isn’t Steve taking you? Or Jared? You know you could have asked me over lunch.”

  She holds her hand up for me to stop. “I had a rental. I stopped to fill it up at the station on the corner, and it didn’t restart. I got a lift back to the house from one of Steve’s neighbors. He can’t leave work. The rental company was going to pick me up.”

  “Want me to drive you instead?”

  “Sure, but you seem upset. Why don’t you let me drive?”

  I pass her my keys. She calls the rental company and checks out over the phone since the keys to the rental are at the station. If they need anything, they have her number and credit card info already.

  She hurries upstairs to grab her bags while I wait for her. I’d offered to help, but she refused.

  She passes me her carryon once she’s at the bottom of the stairs, and I follow her out to the car. Once everything is in and we’re buckled, she tells me to go ahead.

  “How well did you know my grandmother?”

  “Not that well.”

  My mouth drops. “How did she know you, to ask you to take me that summer?”

  “She knew me through your mom.”

  I shake my head, trying to understand the confusion evident on my face.

  She reaches out to squeeze my hand. “Let me start at the beginning. When I was fifteen, I spent a year in Holland as a foreign exchange student. Your mom’s family was my host family.”

  “So you knew my—”

  She nods and finishes my sentence, “Grandparents. I’m so sorry you never had a chance to meet them. Victor and Savina were beautiful people. I will always remember my year with them and your mom fondly.”

  My mother’s father had died of cancer before I was born. Her mother had also been in poor health and followed him less than a year later. Growing up, I remember my mom would tell me my grandmother died of a broken heart.

  “Your mom and I became best friends and promised each other we’d go to university together. We picked Dartmouth, only I didn’t get in and ended up going to school in Rhode Island.”

  “But how did my grandmother know to contact you?”