“No?” He looks up at me.
“No. You don’t get to do this. You don’t get to be cold. I didn’t do anything to deserve it.” I cross my arms.
Sawyer stands slowly, then crosses his, too. The tattoo on his right arm flexes with his muscles, drawing my attention for a brief moment before it shoots back to his face. “I didn’t realize I was being cold.”
“You’re not being you.” I throw my hands up in the air. “You know exactly what you’re doing.”
“I’m not trying to be cold, Anastasia, I’m just trying to be respectful.”
“Of what?”
“Your relationship with Jack. He’s a good guy. I was wrong, so I took a step back.” His tone is ridiculously level—lacking all emotion. This is the guy who got emotional when Inigo Montoya confronted his father’s killer in The Princess Bride. Yet, as he stands here now, he might as well be stone.
I glare at him as the truth settles over me. “Is that what this is about? We were friends long before I met Jack. I didn’t realize that having him in my life meant I’d lose you.” The very thought makes my stomach churn. Emotion burns in my throat, an unyielding lump that will strangle me if I let it.
Why does this hurt so bad?
Sawyer comes around his desk, his expression softening just slightly. “You didn’t lose me. I’m right here.”
“No. You’re standing here, but you’re not really here.” Tears burn in the corners of my eyes. “I miss my friend.”
“I haven’t gone anywhere.”
“You almost—” I trail off, swallowing down past the lump in my throat. “You almost died.”
“It’s not the first time,” he replies, tone flat.
I shake my head, the hurt deepening with every moment I spend standing here in front of him.
“Look, Anastasia, Jack is your boyfriend. If I were him and some guy was hanging around you the way I was, I wouldn’t be happy about it. The last thing I want to do is cause you problems.”
But you’re not some guy. “Sawyer?—”
“Now it’s my time to say no,” he interrupts, frustration taking over and erasing the emotionless façade. At least it’s something. Anger is better than the cold. “You don’t get to stand there and pretend that you never saw the way I looked at you. Everyone in town saw it. Now, I’m moving on, and you don’t get to come in here demanding answers to anything. You chose him!”
His words slam into me one after the other, like waves battering a rocky shore. “You don’t get to stand there and pretend that you never saw the way I looked at you.”
But I didn’t see. Not really…did I? Sure, I felt something for him, but he never gave me any indication. Nothing that said he might feel the same. “You never asked!”
Sawyer swallows hard. “And that’s the fantastic choice that I get to live with. But I’m moving on, Anastasia, and I suggest you do the same.”
My cell phone rings, and Jack’s name lights up on the screen.
“Look at that; you’re already halfway there. I’ll see you around, Anastasia.”
His dismissal might as well have been a slap in the face. “Don’t bother. I have nothing else to say to you, Sawyer Maddox.” With tears in my eyes, I point at him. “Jack has never cared that we were friends because it meant the world to me. It clearly never meant the same to you.”
He clenches his jaw, then takes a step closer. “Anastasia.”
Shaking my head, I don’t give him the chance to respond as I rush out the front door of the mechanic’s shop and out onto the dark street. Why didn’t I just park in the back parking lot and walk home?
With trembling fingers, I try to get the keys out of my pocket, but they fall to the ground. “Come on.”
When I’ve finally picked them up, I straighten, my vision so blurry I can hardly see anything. And then—bright headlights. Too close.
A memory slams into me, one that, despite happening eighteen years ago, is still far too fresh in my mind.
A dark street.
