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My heart beats faster when I notice Sawyer’s car parked in the driveway as we pull up to the lodge. Colton squeezes my hand. I squeeze his back, grab the leftovers, and climb out of the truck. He opens the front door for me, and an invisible cloud of heat and cinnamon rushes out to greet us.
“He likes to bake when he feels guilty,” Colton says quietly.
“Apologies do tend to go down better with pie.”
“The pieisthe apology,” he says.
I slip my boots off and let Colton help me out of my jacket and scarf. Across the room, Sawyer stands at the sink. There’s no way he didn’t hear us come in, but he hasn’t turned around to greet us.
“Can you give us a minute,” I ask Colton. “I’d like to talk to him first.”
Colton nods. I make my way to the kitchen with the leftovers, as Colton heads upstairs.
“I made fruit crisp,” Sawyer mumbles.
“Smells good.” I put the leftover Chinese food in the fridge, then lean against the door. Sawyer still hasn’t looked at me. “What’s in it?”
“Apples, frozen peaches, raspberries. Should be cool enough to eat.”
“I’ll have some later. Colton and I filled up on Chinese.”
I don’t want to be the one who has to move our stilted conversation to more pressing topics, but someone has to. The faucet squeaks as Sawyer cuts the flow of water. He dries his hands on a kitchen towel and then, finally, turns to face me.
“Can we talk?” he asks, his expression pained.
“Sure.”
He takes my hand and leads me over to the couch, but doesn’t sit down. First, he adds another log to the fire, then he turns the Christmas lights on. I notice he’s hung the ornament I gave him on the tree. He asks me if I need a blanket and I say sure because he looks like he really wants to get one for me.
“Do you want some hot cocoa?” he asks, draping the blanket over me.
“No, thanks.” I reach for his wrist. “I want you to sit with me.”
He sits on the center cushion, and I rest my legs over his lap. As he rearranges the blanket over both of us, I can tell he’s mustering the courage to speak.
“I’m sorry, Noelle,” he says. “I’m a fucking idiot.”
“No, you’re not. But you were an asshole this morning.”
“I know,” he says. “I was doing to you what I always do with women. I mean, you saw it the night we met, with Cara. The only thing I’ve ever successfully committed to is a job, and even that I can take or leave as needed.”
He smooths his hand down my calf, then over my foot, giving me a foot rub through the blanket. I’m willing to bet he’s never tried to explain himself to anyone like this. I don’t know what it is about me that makes him want to put himself through the discomfort, but I am proud of him for doing it.
“I thought flaking on purpose now would stop me from accidentally doing it later, when it might hurt more. Of course, I ended up hurting you anyway, so that backfired.” He laughs nervously, then goes quiet for a long moment. “Hurting you is the last thing I ever want to do. I hope you can forgive me.”
Seconds tick past, and I realize that’s the end of his apology. On the one hand, I appreciate his sincerity, but at the same time, there’s no missing the fact that he hasn’t asked for a second chance, or promised to do better.
“I accept your apology. But Sawyer...” I sigh, not sure how I want to approach this question. I’m not a psych major —not yet anyway—but I can tell there’s a lot he isn’t dealing with below the surface. “Do you ever think about why you can’t commit to a relationship?”
For a second, he gets that panicky look on his face, like I’m a teacher asking him to stay after class to take another test he didn’t study for.
“Well, it’s like I said.”
Time to shine the spotlight on me for a minute.
“I carry a lot of resentment toward my dad,” I tell him. “Because I know his love for me is dependent on me living by his rules. His values. Going to school, becoming a lawyer, not being promiscuous like my mom. But it wasn’t until I visited the commune and then lived on my own at college that I broadened my opinions on sex and relationships. And it wasn’t until I came here that I realized maybe law school, or school in general, just isn’t for me.”
I sit upright, taking Sawyer’s hand in mine and praying he won’t pull away.
