Me After You (26 page)

“That would be really tragic.”

“It would be,” he says. “But you know what? Even if the sky were falling, and the world as we know it was crumbling to the ground all around us, everything would be okay because I have you. You make me feel safe, Jack.”

I peer up at him and kiss his clean-shaven jaw. “You make me feel safe, too, Dean. I trust you. I know that you’ll take care of me no matter what.”

“Did you know that I love you?” His green eyes blink down at me.

“Yes.” I nod.

“But I’ve never said it before.”

“You didn’t have to.” Deans presses his lips to mine once. And again. “You know I love you, too, right?” He smiles. And again.

“I do now.”

When we stop kissing, we lie under the stars in silence. And I’m okay with that, because doing nothing with Dean is better than doing something with anyone else.

A flare of light fires across the sky and I gasp. “Did you see it?” Dean asks.

I nod into the arc of his shoulder. “It was beautiful.”

“Sawyer,” Mom startles me. “It’s pitch black. What are you doing out here?” I whirl around as she flips on the porch light. “Are you trying to catch a cold? It’s freezing out here.”

“It’s not freezing, Mama. It’s perfect. I’ll be in in a minute.” I turn back and face the stars.

“Are you okay?”

“I’m fine. Will you please turn off the light? I can’t see the stars with it on.”

“All right,” she says, resigned. The light goes out, and the front door closes. I exhale. Lifting my face again toward the night sky, I wait and listen for something in the universe to tell me where I’m supposed to go from here.

There’s only one place I want to be. I just have to decide if I’m willing to let the universe take me there.

I’
M
SITTING
ON
my porch swing, waiting for the sun to set when I see a figure walking up the dirt driveway. When I stand up against the railing, I see that it’s Sawyer. Though it’s only been about a week since I’ve seen her, it amazes me how much pressure has built up in my chest. The sight of her immediately relieves it. She smiles timidly when she sees me and lifts her hand in a hesitant wave. My lips curve up in response.

“Hey.”

“Hey,” she says, a little out of breath.

I wait until she’s closer to ask, “What are you doing here?” I’m not complaining, but it’s nearly a five-mile walk from her house.

“I just… I went on a walk and found myself here.” She looks up at my house, the house I grew up in. The house that holds so many memories I wish I could forget. I ask myself every day why I haven’t sold it. I still can’t answer that. “It looks different.”

My eyes remain on her. She’s wearing cut-off jean shorts and a yellow sweater. If I didn’t know better, under this light, I would have mistaken this Sawyer for the teenage, full of light and life Sawyer. I know she’s in there. Somewhere.

“I cleaned it up a bit when I took over,” I say. “Replaced the siding and gave it a new paint job. It just needed a little love.”

“The blue looks nice,” she says. “It’s got a little gray in it.”

“Thanks.” I nod and pause. “Do you want to come in? I could get you some sweet tea. Got a cold pitcher of it in the fridge.”

“Nah, I was just getting some fresh air.” She looks behind her with a look of uncertainty in her eyes. It’s possible that she regrets coming here. But I can see something is bothering her. Flat-out asking her won’t go well. She doesn’t work that way. When she wants to talk about it, she will.

“Take a breather then.” I sit down on the top porch step and pat the seat next to me. I’m pleasantly surprised when she accepts.

“I love this time of year,” she sighs. “When the nights have cooled down enough so that you can be outside without it being too hot or too cold. It’s the perfect weather for walking.”

It felt a little cold to me, but I agree anyway. “It is a nice night.” We watch the sun in a comfortable silence as it begins its descent, painting the sky a pinkish-orange. If I close my eyes, I can almost imagine that the last six years never happened, and we’re back to the way it was always supposed to be. Whatever wars are raging in my head quiet down when I have Sawyer by my side.

I hear her breathing and feel the tension wafting off of her, but it doesn’t seem to have anything to do with me. She exhales. It’s coming.

“People don’t really know how he died.” She pauses and touches her fingertips to her lips. “It was internal bleeding.”

There it is.

“They knew not even surgery could fix it. Too many vital organs were damaged. He would have died on the table. His body wasn’t found fast enough after the attack. If it had, they might have been able to save him. I fought with the doctor for like ten minutes. He finally snapped at me and told me I could argue with him or spend the last few minutes I could with Grayson.” She swallows. “He drew his last breath during our last conversation.”

I keep silent because I can’t speak. If I open my mouth, I might cry, and I haven’t done that in years. I have to stay strong for Sawyer.

“Did you know it wasn’t supposed to be him?” She pauses, peering over at me from under her thick black eyelashes. I can tell she’s not really asking me, because I don’t know what she’s referring to. Her hands run up and down her arms anxiously before she looks down at her feet resting on the wooden steps. “They beat up the wrong guy. The guy who they meant to beat up lost in a game of poker and didn’t pay up. The other guys were too drunk to really recognize him, but they saw Grayson and thought he was their guy.” She lifts her eyes slightly and stares off with an emptiness I crave to fill.

“Sawyer,” I breathe.

“He shouldn’t have died,” she says blankly, like she’s not feeling what she says. I know if she felt the words she would drown and maybe never surface. “They got the wrong guy.”

“That’s… I… I’m so sorry.” I grit my teeth, clenching my jaw so tightly as if that will fight off the tears. I want to reach out and touch her so badly. She carries this pain with her every day. I want to hold her and make it all go away.

She takes a breath. “I know there’s a reason for everything, but I can’t figure out why it had to happen to him. He was everything good in this world.” She pauses. “Is it my fault? Because I was never supposed to leave Willowhaven? Fate was pushing me back here and losing him was the only way I’d do it? Or was it my punishment for…” she chokes on her words, shaking her head, unable to finish.

“No. Stop it.” I grab her shoulders and force her to look me in the eyes. Her eyes are filled with tears. I wipe them away with the back of my fingers as they fall down her cheeks. “Sometimes bad things happen to good people. It’s not a punishment. It’s not fate. It just happens. And it sucks, but we can either let it bring us down and consume us, or we can learn from it. It can make us stronger.”

“When?” she whispers, her wet eyes search mine for answers I can’t give. I want to kiss her so badly it hurts. I want to heal her with my touch, to bring her back to life. It’s the only way I know how. “When will it make me stronger?”

“With time,” is all I can give her.

“I’m through with time. I want to be stronger now.”

“You
are
strong. Don’t you see?” I shake her shoulders, urging her to understand. “After everything that has happened to you, you’re still breathing. You talk about being broken, but you’re not broken, Sawyer. You have a few scars. That’s all. I’ve seen the transformation you’ve made in the last few months. I know it hasn’t been easy, but you’ve done it.” I motion my hand between us. “Even now. Would you have been able to tell me that all those months ago?”

Her head shakes back and forth, and the light that I’ve been waiting so long to see starts to flicker faintly in the depths of her dark brown eyes. My hope grows.

“You are stronger than you know. You have to start believing it.”

“When life keeps knocking you down it’s hard to believe anything,” she utters.

“You have to know that I understand that,” I urge. “I understand that more than anyone.”

“Then you have to know losing someone like that can destroy a person.” She turns her gaze away from me. “I’ve lost too much to be as strong as I once was.”

“You’ve survived, Sawyer. You’ve continued on with your life. You’ve picked up the pieces and carried on. That’s what makes you strong, even if you don’t feel it.” She’s so close to me. All I need to do is lean closer and her lips would be mine. It hits me then that she doesn’t know how I felt about her when I left. She doesn’t know how much I wish I could take it all back.

“Sawyer—”

“I’m going to head home,” she cuts me off. It’s obvious she cut me off on purpose, so I hold my tongue. “It’s a long walk back. I should probably start now.” She stands, brushing away the tears and wiping them on her shorts as she walks down the steps.
 

I shake my head and get to my feet. “Let me take you home. It’s getting cold, and it’ll be dark soon. You shouldn’t be walking that far in the dark.”

“I’ll be fine, Dean,” she attempts to reassure me. “I like walking.”

“I wasn’t asking you. Let me get the keys to my truck.”

It surprises me that she doesn’t fight me. She nods and waits at the bottom of the steps for me to come back. On the drive over, we don’t say anything, but the silence doesn’t drag. It almost feels the way it used to. Sawyer looks out her rolled down window, the wind blowing her waves back. Her smooth jawline is more flawless than I remember. I’m grateful her eyes are focused in the other direction, giving me the opportunity to really take her in. Though her appearance is the same, the curves of her features have subtle changes, matured changes. She’s not the girl I fell in love with. She’s a woman now. A woman who lost that girl somewhere along the way.

I put my truck in park when we get to her driveway.

“Thanks for listening,” she says to the floor before she peers over at me from across the bench. “I haven’t really been able to talk about it with anyone. I don’t know why I felt like I could talk about it with you.”

I reach over with the possibility that she’ll brush me off and touch my hand to her arm. She tenses, but she doesn’t pull away. I’ve missed the touch of her soft skin. “I’m really glad you did. I miss talking to you.”

Her eyes trail from my hand touching her and back to my eyes. Our eyes hold their stare for a short moment, but all I need is that moment. I can tell what she’s thinking before she immediately grabs the door handle and briskly utters, “I have to go.”

She’s out of the car before I can reply or attempt to stop her.

I’
M
SO
STUPID
.
My head shakes as if that will clear it from my ridiculous thoughts of him—thoughts of actually kissing him.
Ugh!
I disgust myself. I can’t do this with him again. He doesn’t want me in that way. Why am I letting myself feel for him again?

I hear Dean’s car door open and slam shut. “Sawyer,” he calls. “Sawyer, wait!” But I don’t. The only thought raging through my head is that I have to keep moving.
Don’t turn around. Don’t you dare turn around, Sawyer.
I nearly reach the steps up to my house when he grabs my hand. “Sawyer,
please
,” he pleads.

I turn to him, knowing I’ll regret it, but I don’t have it in me to resist him right now. He doesn’t let me go. He holds tighter to my hand, curling his fingers around mine, fitting the contours perfectly. I don’t know what it is about the feel of my hand in his, how it can be the simplest gesture and yet the most intimate. I never want him to let go again.

“I regret leaving every day,” he breathes. “Leaving you was the worst decision I’ve ever made. I wish I could take it back. I wish I could take it all back.”

Lies. That’s what he does. I have to remind myself of that when he looks at me the way he’s looking at me now. The tears start to form in my chest, drowning the oxygen. “Dean, I can’t do this with you.” I beg with my eyes for him to go, to stop while we still can, though everything inside of me is begging me to shut up. I can’t think with his hand touching mine. He holds on tighter as if he couldn’t survive if he let me go. The contact is more than I can bear.

He shakes his head, and his eyes change. I know this change. I’m all too familiar with this change. How can I possibly deny him? They fill with need and tenderness as he steps closer with resolution. His mouth covers mine, and I don’t stop him. His hands cradle my face as the tears start to prick my eyes. I don’t know how to explain that this kiss is both painful and alleviating. Cracks start to fill and break all over again with each passing second.

He sucks in a heavy breath and deepens the kiss, thrusting his hands behind my neck, tilting my face even closer. My hands rest on his chest, pushing him away and clenching his shirt, unable to entertain the thought of letting him out of my grasp. I want it to end and last forever. But I can’t let this happen. There’s too much between us. So much that hasn’t been said. So much that will ruin us. And as much as I don’t understand it, I care about Lily’s feelings.

I push him and stumble back. “I can’t.” My head shakes at the ground. “I can’t do this again.”

“Sawyer, please,” he begs, reaching for my waist, but I maneuver out of his grasp. “Sawyer.” There’s a trembling in his voice that I nearly give into. I don’t look back as I rush for the front door and close it behind me. I collapse on the cold wooden floor, letting the tears take over me.

***

“He did what?” Alix freaks, and I have to pull the phone away from my ear.

I hiss out a sigh as I pace my room. After waking up the next morning, the realization of what happened the night before comes crashing down on me. “I know. I know. I don’t need a lecture to top off the guilt and shame. I just don’t know what to do now.”

“I just… I can’t… Did he… I mean, I knew…”

“Alix!”

“Okay. Okay,” she amends. “I knew this was coming. I just didn’t realize how soon it would happen. What did you do?”