Our Last Road

by London Casey

  The booths were empty.

  It was a disappointed relief that went through me.

  Until I got to the counter.

  And saw Sawyer sitting at the far end, looking right at me.

  2.

  “No friends today?” I asked him as I tied my apron behind my back.

  “No. Just me and a notebook.” He patted a tattered black notebook. “Drawing some ideas. Want to see?”

  “I have a shift to work,” I said. “I don’t get to just do what I want like you.”

  Sawyer touched my hand. “You could though, darling.”

  That made me shiver. My skin broke out in goosebumps. I swallowed hard and mentally shook my head, reminding myself of the reality around me.

  “Yeah, right,” I managed to say before slipping away.

  There were three tables for me. I took their orders and mentally battled between Sawyer and Jason. I knew what Sawyer wanted but he needed to understand that life for me was completely gone. At the same time, it wasn’t his business to know about Jason and it wasn’t fair to Jason to just have some guy just show up. Especially a guy like Sawyer, one who could just up and leave for years and not think twice of the damage it could do.

  After I served the food to my tables, I saw that Sawyer was still sitting there. Sketching in his notebook. The sight of a pencil in his left hand, head down, eyes so intense as he drew. It was probably my favorite sight of him (other than him being naked). When the wild man would calm for a second and let the artist be free. It pissed me off sometimes how talented he was. A guy who could back up his cocky attitude with skill.

  “Is that an apology letter to me?” I asked as I grabbed the coffeepots to walk them to the kitchen to wash them and make fresh coffee.

  “That’s exactly what it is,” Sawyer said without looking up. “Want to see?”

  “In a minute,” I said.

  I found myself hurrying to wash and set the coffeemakers. I ran to check on my tables. I moved so fast that I smashed my hip off the end chair at the counter. A burning pain shot down my leg as the chair spun so hard I thought it was going to go flying across the restaurant.

  My cheeks felt warm as I rolled my eyes.

  This is what he does to me. I’m fucking flustered because of him. Dammit, Kate…

  I couldn’t believe how fast I caught myself moving so I could get back to Sawyer. This was the exact kind of stuff that always got me into trouble.

  “Let’s see the letter,” I said.

  Sawyer turned the notebook around. “I don’t write letters, darling. I draw stuff.”

  It was a sketch of a beach with a few large rocks. Waves crashing to the rocks. And a woman sitting sideways on a rock.

  Honestly, it was beautifully drawn. A messy kind of sketch with just a pencil, but it was perfect.

  “How nice,” I said. “Is that your girlfriend?”

  “I hope so,” Sawyer said with a smile.

  “Why are you smiling?”

  “Take a closer look, Kate.”

  It took me two seconds to realize the drawing was of me. More heat rushed to my cheeks, thinking about what I had asked him.

  “It’s nice,” I said.

  “It’s you, Kate.”

  “At the beach. I can’t tell you the last time I went to the beach.”

  “Maybe we can fix that,” Sawyer said. “I’m familiar with the beach.”

  “I’m sure you are,” I said. “Good for you, Sawyer. You lived on the beach while the rest of us suffered here.”

  “Suffered,” Sawyer said. “Yeah, I know suffering, Kate.”

  “Do you now?”

  Sawyer touched the notebook and curled his lip. “This is how I see you, darling.”

  “Meaning what?”

  I shouldn’t have asked that.

  “Meaning this… I see you, Kate, free. Sitting on a rock next to the ocean. The edge of the world. The greatest sense of freedom. The unknown always waiting. An ocean breeze playing with your pretty hair because you finally decided to let it down. The way I always liked it. The way I fucking loved it on you. But you’re just sitting there, thinking. Always thinking. You were always thinking. I think thinking got you into trouble.”

  “Let me stop you there, Sawyer,” I said. I put my hand flat to the page and leaned forward a little. I hated his dark brown eyes. I hated the look of his perfectly chiseled chin. I hated the scruff on his face that made my fingertips tingle with temptation. I hated that he smelled so good. “The only thing that ever got me into trouble was you.”

  I pushed away but not before Sawyer put his hand to my wrist and stopped me from getting away.

  “Last time I remembered, you enjoyed the trouble. Running through the alleys in the middle of the night, looking for a place to steal a kiss here and there. Or maybe just stay out all night and kiss the sunrise before falling asleep in each other’s arms.”

  I didn’t want to admit that my heart was racing, so I tried to just stand there and act like I wasn’t impressed.

  “That’s a great story,” I said, taking my hand away. “I lived it. Hear that? Lived. As in the past.”

  I walked away to check on my tables and to catch my breath. I remembered every single night with Sawyer. I remembered every single kiss. I remembered every single touch. There wasn’t a moment I didn’t remember when it came to being with him and near him. But it was all in the past. He chose to leave. I chose to stay. And there was no going back to fix that.

  I returned to the counter to refill some drinks and Sawyer was still sketching.

  I hated him even more that he drew a picture of me. And honestly, I hated myself for letting stuff like that get to me.

  A few more people came in and I sat them, giving them menus and taking their drink orders. I looked at the clock and knew Jason was done with preschool. Maggie had him now. My heart skipped a beat, really hoping she would just take him home. Which was stupid. Why would it matter if she brought Jason here? If anything, maybe it would show Sawyer how real my life was now and he’d back the hell away.

  Then again, maybe I didn’t want him to back the hell away.

  “Hey, Kate,” he said as he stood up.

  “What?” I asked.

  He reached into his pocket and left money on the counter. “I need your advice on this.”

  “What?”

  “I need to know what it needs,” he said. “I can’t leave without finishing this. You know me. I have to finish this. Get it off my mind.”

  I was sucked right back into his world. “Show me.”

  He spun the drawing around again. There was more detail, but not all that much. He did draw me pretty damn accurate.

  “What do you want me to do here?” I asked.

  Sawyer put the pencil down. “Add your finishing touches. Like you used to do. I know you still got it.”

  “Oh yeah? You just assume I still draw?”

  Sawyer nodded. “There’s no way you’d give that up. Ever.”

  I looked at his arms. They were so big and strong, bigger than when I met him. Covered with tattoos, the sleeve on his right arm pulled up just enough to show the bottom of his first tattoo. The one I drew for him.

  That’s when reality really smacked me across the face.

  I looked at Sawyer. I nodded.

  You crushed me. You left me in pieces. You have no idea what happened to me after you left.

  Instead of saying that, I lifted the pencil and went to work.

  I put the so called finishing touches on the drawing and spun the notebook back around.

  “Find somewhere else to have lunch tomorrow, Sawyer,” I said. “I’m not doing this anymore.”

  I flicked the pencil at him and walked away.

  My heart hurt but it felt good to say and felt good to do.

  What did I do to the drawing?

  I drew myself giving him the middle finger.

  ELEVEN

  SAWYER

  1.

  I slid my fing
er along the drawing, still smiling. Beautiful Kate sitting on some rocks next to the ocean, throwing me the finger. I wouldn’t expect anything less from her though. She had every right to be pissed at me. And hate me. And want to slap me across the face. But she knew damn well what she did too. And whatever we were doing to each other, it wasn’t over yet.

  I closed the notebook and stood up. My little room was pretty much still empty. I’d have to get some posters and pictures and really start to make it my own. Believe me, I wasn’t crashing in St. Skin to take over anyone’s spot. Or bother Tate’s fancy office. This was about tattooing. This was about remembering the dream I created with Tate. And it was about finding that love with Kate that was still buried under the ashes of all we burned.

  When I opened the door, Prick and Zayne were standing there.

  “Hey,” I said.

  “Sawyer,” Zayne said.

  “Asshole,” Prick said.

  “There’s the love I’ve been looking for,” I said.

  Maddox and Zayne had come around a little. Me and Maddox went back way too far for him to not understand what really happened. And Zayne was new enough to just see me as another guy inking up people.

  But Prick was tough.

  I didn’t mind it.

  “You’re still here, huh?” Prick asked.

  “Until my name isn’t on the sign anymore,” I said.

  “We can arrange that.”

  “We?”

  “Me and Tate,” Prick said. “Rebrand this place. Really step things up.”

  “Oh, sure,” I said. “It’s that simple, huh?”

  “With the business I bring in here, it’s as easy as anything. Just like when I get a beautiful woman in the chair. And she’s nervous about getting her nipples pierced. And I stand there and talk to her, tell her how pretty she is, gently holding her perfect tits. Bringing her to the edge of a pain she never knew only to make it feel so fucking good.”

  “Jesus, this guy is turning me on a little,” I said to Zayne.

  Zayne laughed and slapped a hand to Prick’s shoulder. “He got you on that one, man.” Zayne looked at me. “Have a good night.”

  “See you later, Z.”

  “Z?” Prick asked. “Man, you think you can just settle right in here, huh?”

  “That’s the plan,” I said. I stepped at Prick and went eye to eye with him. “Hate me all you want, brother, but this is my shop. I did all of this. What you bring in here is amazing. People like you. The guys trust you. I appreciate that. But don’t take your broken past and shove it on me.”

  “Fuck you, man,” Prick said.

  “I get it, Prick. What it’s like to be broken. To lose everything. To have nothing. You’ve been down a darker hole than I have, so I respect you for that. Have a good night.”

  Prick didn’t say a word. His nostrils flared as anger spread across his face.

  He walked away without saying a word.

  I thought for a second I was alone.

  But then I saw Tate.

  Standing at the end of the hall.

  I looked over my shoulder at the back door. Then forward to Tate. I nodded.

  “We gonna do this?” I asked.

  “Yeah,” Tate said.

  It was time to finish our fight.

  2.

  I put a hand flat against the back of St. Skin and touched my jaw. I swore it was broken. Tate had gotten me good a few times. I stretched my jaw, heard a loud popping sound, but at least it wasn’t broken.

  A second later I felt a crunching fire against my ribs. A hand grabbed the top of my shirt and pulled me away from the wall. I smiled, knowing damn well Tate planned on smashing my face against the back of the building.

  I quickly threw an elbow, hitting him in the stomach hard enough that he lost his breath. I turned, watching him stumble back, and I made fists again. With a hooking right, I caught Tate under his eye, knowing it would bleed and swell for days. I followed that up with a left to his jaw, to match the punch he landed on my damn jaw.

  He backed up and I stepped forward. “You done yet?”

  “Why the fuck did you leave?” he said, sounding like he was blubbering, but it was just spit and blood in his mouth.

  “What choice did I fucking have, brother?” I asked.

  I put my hands to his shirt and shook him two times before throwing him back.

  He stumbled again but didn’t fall. Tate was a tough son of a bitch to take down. This wasn’t our first fight and I wasn’t sure if it was going to be our last one either.

  He lunged at me again, swinging. I leaned back and felt the swoosh of air from his fist. That’s when I got a good punch to his gut, dropping him down to one knee. He was at a perfect angle if I wanted to throw a knee and knock his ass out. But I didn’t want to do that. Not to Tate.

  On one knee, he looked up at me. There was one light above the St. Skin shop out back and it cast itself against Tate’s battered face. I couldn’t brag too much though because my face felt the way his looked. All in all, it had been a pretty damn fair fight.

  We stared at each other for a few seconds.

  Finally, I put my hand out for him to take.

  He did and I pulled him to his feet.

  There was a moment between us where I could feel we both wanted to keep throwing punches. Christ, there were so many years between us. Digging through those layers would take all night, easily. I thought about it for a second. Imaging the guys showing up tomorrow morning to find me and Tate out back beating the hell out of each other.

  Welcome to St. Skin, brother.

  Tate started to nod his head. I did the same.

  Then we came together in a hug. Squeezing each other, trying to prove our strength over the other.

  “Need a beer?” Tate asked.

  “Yeah, I could drink a beer with you.”

  Tate broke away and walked to the back door and opened it.

  “Hey, Tate,” I said.

  “Yeah?”

  I touched the corner of my mouth. “You have a little blood right here. You bleed too easily, brother.”

  Tate smirked. “Fuck you, Saint.”

  3.

  I sat on the table surrounded by leather couches. Tate leaned against the glass case up front. It was a little strange being in St. Skin when it was dark and quiet. The sounds of music and the buzzing of the tattoo needles were all ghosts now.

  “How do we do this?” Tate asked.

  “Nothing to do, brother,” I said. “I own half of this.”

  “You keep reminding me of that,” Tate said.

  “It’s the truth. And if you need to know about me, I opened a shop right near the beach. Sold it for a ton of fucking money and now I’m here.”

  “So you got paid from here and somewhere else. While I sat in the fucking office, day after day, trying to make sure I could keep the lights on for these guys.”

  I laughed. “Save the pity act, Tate. This place is booming.”

  “Because of me. Because of the guys.”

  “I have no doubt. It’s a great team here.”

  “You don’t know shit about them, Sawyer. Don’t play that card.”

  “Look, I didn’t show up and ask anyone to be my friend. I didn’t ask anyone to not want to punch me in the face. I don’t give a shit to be honest. I trust what’s inside my heart and that’s all that matters to me.”

  “So you’re a hero in your own mind. You just come and go as you please and think the world should kiss your ass.”

  “That’s one way to put it,” I said with a grin.

  “You’re a real fucking jerk, brother,” Tate said. “You took off. You left this place stranded. You were the blood of St. Skin, man. I hope you get that. And you left it. On top of that, you left Kate behind. I had to face her every single day. Tears in her goddamn eyes as she waited for me to say you got in touch with me. There were times where I considered lying to her just so she could have a good day. She shut down, Sawyer. She stopped drawi
ng. I offered her a job here so many times but now she’s a waitress. Barely keeping shit together. Because of you.”

  I slowly stood up. “Because of me. Right. The night I left wasn’t just about that night. It was years, Tate. Years.”

  “Years,” Tate said, shaking his head. “The fire got hot and you got scared.”

  I stepped forward. “You know, the one thing I remember about that night? We were both outside, Tate. You and me. And when she came outside, she went to you. She touched your jaw. If I didn’t leave in that moment, I would have done something really stupid.”

  “Like, what?” Tate asked. “Learned the truth?”

  “The truth about what?”

  “She didn’t come to me, Sawyer. She was looking for you. I didn’t know where you were. I went outside to catch my breath. I had Maddox and River up my ass about you hitting me. Pecker was losing his mind, saying he was going to call the cops. And you know what, brother? Kate needed me. I needed her. Because you were off the fucking deep end by then. I don’t know what the hell happened between you two, because I knew nothing of it. She touched my jaw? Because it looked like I got hit with a fucking baseball bat. You jealous prick.”

  I put my beer bottle down. I envisioned a fight right here in St. Skin. Shit, if that happened, we’d destroy the entire shop.

  “You were stepping in waters where you didn’t belong.”

  “I would never do anything to abandon your trust,” Tate said. “At least not until you left.”

  “What the hell does that mean?”

  Tate pushed from the counter and walked right to me. We were nose to nose.

  “You came back to town, Sawyer,” he said. “You showed up and started inking people like nothing happened. Hey, I can live with that. It's good for business. You being here is good for business. Shit, we can throw some pictures of you up on social media and turn this into something. Maybe something like The Saint Returns…”

  “You’re a fucking hustler, Tate,” I said.

  “It’s what I do,” Tate said. “But I wasn’t done talking.” Tate put a finger to my chest. “You came back for two things, you said. You’re here, Sawyer. The shop is here. You can do anything you want with it. Except change what I’ve built. But you wanted to get Kate back.”