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Sawyer leaned back against the wall of the elevator, feeling a wave of fatigue wash over him because he had suddenly identified what he wanted, finally having words for it. He’d been going back and forth on what that might be ever since he’d gotten back to Houston, but now he knew it with a startlingcertainty. He wanted to gohome. And home wasn’t here anymore. Forcing himself to be brutally honest, so honest it hurt and was frankly terrifying, he knew home wasn’t even aplaceanymore. It was a person.
CHAPTER 17
SAWYER
Sawyer didn’t bother with flights. The thought of waiting around at a terminal, ticket in hand, would have driven him crazy knowing that he could have been on the road already. Any more time spent in concrete rooms under fluorescent lights might actually tip him over the edge. So he drove through the night in his sports car, gripping tight onto the steering wheel, feeling waves of déjà vu wash over him, which was fine. It made for a nice break between the waves of guilt and regret. By the time the sun started to rise, he was surrounded by fields, the occasional house, and a ridiculous amount of sky. It was then that he was even more grateful that he hadn’t bothered with flights just to save a few hours.
As he drove, the horizon was lit up in a cascade of colors: purples and reds fading into oranges and pinks, white clouds scattered over the whole thing like an artist’s final touches. He even pulled over at one point, parking the car on the side of the road and standing out in the middle of nowhere at the crack of dawn just to take it all in.
He could fix this. He could. He had no idea how or how long it might take, but he would do it. The hardest part of anything was just starting and he had already started driving, so all there was left to do was to keep going.
After a few more hours, his limbs stiff and cramped, he pulled up at the diner. It was ten a.m., the breakfast rush past its peak and slowly winding down until the next wave would hit at lunch. Sawyer got out of the car feeling kind of numb and kind of cold despite the heat of the day building up already.
This was going to suck, no two ways about it. Walking in there was going to be about as fun as a root canal without pain relief. So be it. Sawyer wasn’t one for melodramatics, but he deserved every ounce of being uncomfortable that he got. If he wanted things to be easy, then he shouldn’t have been such an idiot in the first place. Sucking in a breath like he was about to step out onto the field, he pushed the diner door open; except instead of facing off against another team, he’d be facing off against a bunch of sharks who could smell blood in the water. The pleasant tinkling of the door’s bell sounded like it was mocking him.
Heads popped up to look at him. A couple of folks smiled and waved, but mostly the novelty of Sawyer’s return to Willow Ridge had worn off and everybody got back to their breakfasts. For that, he was supremely relieved. Then he saw Mathers, of all people, sitting in a booth near the entrance. Sawyer sincerely wanted to dunk the old man’s head in his own breakfast, but at the end of the day, it was still all his own fault. Though Mathers probably still deserved it just a little bit. He definitely deserved it after the old miser decided to act as the official commentator for the whole diner.
“Thought there was a Falcons game coming up?” he said, loud enough for the whole place to hear even though Sawyer was just a few feet away from him. God forbid Mathers didn’t kick up drama whenever possible, even over his breakfast.
Sawyer gave him a blank look and must have looked intimidating enough for Mathers to swallow, duck his head and return to his breakfast.
And sure enough, not only did heads pop up again, looking over in his direction, but Sandy appeared from her perch at the counter, looking at Sawyer like she was seeing a ghost. A ghost she was really, really mad at.
Sawyer lifted a hand in a pathetic attempt at a greeting, scrambling for what to say now that the entire diner was looking in their direction, waiting for some morning entertainment with their dining experience. Then Luke came out from the kitchen, apron splattered with flour and crumbs, a dish towel over his shoulder and a perfectly blank look on his face.
“Can we talk?” Sawyer said to him, desperate, for once in his life, to get away from being the center of attention.
Luke nodded once, solemnly, looking so much like their dad in that moment that Sawyer felt weak in the knees and motioned for Sawyer to follow him out the back.
“What about the game?” called Mathers, still determined to be a nuisance. “Thought you ran off for last-minute training? That’s what we got told, anyways.”
Sawyer almost turned back to put Mathers’ face in his food, but Sandy beat him to it.
“Mathers!” snapped Sandy, who could have wilted a whole field of crops with the glare she had on her face. “Do you wanna be banned from here?”
“No, ma’am,” he said, humbled by her school teacher tone.
“Then finish your breakfast without gossiping. How about that? I know the effort might kill you, but I don’t really care right now. Hauling your body out of here is less effort than listening to you run your mouth.”
Sawyer followed Luke out the back to a chorus of snickers aimed at Mathers. The sounds of the diner cut off abruptly as the door closed and the brothers stood opposite each other, surrounded only by a half-empty parking lot and a couple of dumpsters.
Sawyer forced himself to look Luke in the face, expecting nothing but an ice-cold glare. But Luke looked… curious. There was a tinge of anger, for sure. Of course there was. But mostly it was an open curiosity that made Sawyer’s guilt flare up bad. He didn’t deserve anything but rage.
“So…” he said, which was a pathetic sort of start, but Sawyer needed to get his throat working somehow.
“You came back?” Luke said, still sounding curious and a little confused.
“Yep.”
God, why was it so hard to talk all of a sudden? But Luke wasn’t rolling his eyes and walking off like he should. He was still standing there, waiting, giving Sawyer the time of day that he didn’t deserve. It was enough to make the regret and the shame and the embarrassment break their banks and wash over him ina painful wave. It was enough to loosen up all the words Sawyer needed to say, and they started rushing out.
“I’m sorry,” was the first thing he said, and after that he didn’t have all that much control about what came out next.
“Well, I mean…” Luke started. “Leaving in the middle of the night was a bit dramatic.”
“I’m sorry for that. I’m sorry for all of it. For leaving in the first place. For leaving and not coming back. For not calling, for just avoiding everything…”
His throat caught, but Sawyer powered through because if he stopped now he might never start again, and no matter what happened, this all needed to be said.
