“I can talk to you like that because you treat me like garbage, and I’m sick of it. Do you truly believe Sawyer would choose to be with a person who tears someone else apart just to get what they want? He’s kind and honest…and…and…so giving. He values people and props them up. You’re the exact opposite of him. He would never choose you.”
“But you think he’d choose you?You!Heleftbecause of you!”
I squeeze my eyes shut. My hand clenches when the reminder hits me full force in the chest, but I breathe through it. “He’ll come back when he’s ready. And when he does, you won’t be part of his life…or mine.” I point to the door. “It’s time for you to leave.”
Kristen puts her hands on her hips, but I challenge her right back by lifting my chin. The standoff lasts only a few seconds. Her shoulders slump.
As she slinks to the door, I call out, “And until the day you apologize to me for everything you’ve done, don’t ever speak to me again.”
I flop into the chair. My chest is heaving, but my eyes are bone dry. I made it through a confrontation without crying once. I know everyone’s staring at me. This afternoon, the nail salon will buzz with whispers about every detail.
But what does it even matter?
Sawyer, whereareyou?
23
Fog lifting after a two-week absence
I drag my feetinto the alleyway.
Another Saturday night on my own—
No.
I stagger to a stop. My jaw sags, but I quickly snap it shut.
Sawyer sits on the bottom step leading up to my apartment. His shoulders are hunched, and his gaze is fixed on a random brick on the wall that runs behind the post office. A box wrapped in brown paper fills up the rest of the wooden tread beside him.
Relief wobbles in my knees.
He’s finally home.
God, I’ve missed tagging along beside him. I tried people-watching at the pub without him last night. Nothing was the same. Even Bruiser bringing me a complimentary bottle of wine with a whispered “Good work standing up to that bitch” only dragged a small smile out of me.
Sawyer missed it all. I want to tell him about it, about everything, but…
Don’t cry.
His head turns, but he only glances at my Mary Janes before he pushes off the stairs. No eye contact. No hello. He shoves his hand in his pocket.
“I guess Cain fixed the stairs,” he says.
“He didn’t have much else to do after you ran away.”
“Elsie, about that…” When he looks up, his hazel eyes swim with tears.
A lump lodges in my throat. Seeing this big, rugged man overcome with emotion is too much. None of my rehearsals anticipated this. I prepared for a fight. Yelling, even. I never imagined him standing there looking at me as if his soul were crushed.
“Let’s not do this here.” My voice cracks, but I hold myself steady with a deep breath. “We can talk upstairs.”
His eyes widen. He wasn’t expecting an invitation, but he nods and steps aside for me to lead the way. At the top of the stairs, I unlock the front door and gesture for him to go in first.
“What the…” Sawyer jolts to a stop. “Cain built you a new kitchen?”
“He also installed a new shower and redid all the tiling in the bathroom.” My voice lowers when I sling my bag over the hook. “You disappeared for nearly two weeks.”
Sawyer’s head hangs low. “I couldn’t face you. The way I acted…”
