Page 39

SAWYER

“It’s not that I’m not happy to have you back in Hurricane Shoals,” Eliza says, pressing her thumb down on the Coke button on the soda gun. “But aren’t they going to miss you back at the ag department?”

She pushes the very full plastic cup across the bar, spilling some of the dark, fizzy liquid as it moves, her pointed look impossible to miss. Doesn’t mean I don’t choose to ignore it.

“If you want me to leave, just say so,” I lob back at her, returning her pointed look with one of my own.

The shriek of a toddler slices through the air, making us both wince.

I have no idea if it’s a happy or pissed-off shriek, but don’t bother turning to look.

Lunchtime in any place that sells food on a Saturday during the summer in a beach resort town is always chaos, and today is no exception.

Since it’s changeover day for most of the rental properties around town and the surrounding areas, places like Wall Bangers is where people end up either on their way out of town for one last lunch, or into town to hang out until their home away from home for the next week is ready.

“Did I say that?” Eliza sasses, placing her hand on her chest, pretending to be offended. “Did anyone actually hear me say that? Jason, did you hear me say that?”

The local fisherman next to me shakes his head, not bothering to look up from the paper he’s reading as he takes a bite of his burger.

“Jason, are you even paying attention? Or are you just going along with what Eliza says because you don’t want to pay full price for that beer?” I ask, pretty sure I know the answer.

Jason nods, still not bothering to look away from his paper. Thought so.

“Regardless, Dirt Doctor,” she presses on, “no, I do not want you to leave. I like having you here. But it’s also been over a week, and since it was a little bit… unplanned …”

“You make it sound like I got knocked up.”

Jason raises his head, burger halfway to his wide-open mouth, eyes ready to pop out of their sockets. Of course that got his attention.

“I’m not knocked up,” I say, making that point very clear.

He nods, taking a bite and turning back to his reading.

I’ve got ten bucks that Eliza will still get asked at least once if it’s true that I’m pregnant and have to set the record straight.

Because Abilene Reed will be all over this like white on rice.

Same way Pixie Jerald was like a dog on a bone with the little bit of information she had at town movie night.

A pang hits me, the memory of that night swooping in, wanting to flood my senses. Except all the warm fuzzies and smiles that it should leave me with are overshadowed by the knowledge of what happened not too long after. The part that ripped out my heart and sent me running for home.

I let out a sigh, turning back to Eliza, who is busy filling up a long line of cups with soda, one ear clearly turned to me, still waiting on a response.

“They are under the impression that I am still at Hayes,” I tell her. “I didn’t exactly mention that I wasn’t in Hickory Hills during my phone interview the other day. My in-person interview is on Thursday, though, so I have to be back in Atlanta by then.”

“You excited?”

I start to answer, then stop. I am excited. Really. Although, if I’m being entirely honest, I’m maybe not as excited as I should be. Something inside me has shifted.

My phone interview went well. Incredibly well.

Which, I knew it would. I’ve known everyone on the panel for years, which made the whole thing more of a conversation than an interview.

Getting past them to meet with the “bigwigs” wasn’t ever in question.

No, the question is going to be whether or not the paper pushers in charge, who don’t actually understand the science or the nature of research, are going to be able to see that I’m the one they want, rather than Will Nedens.

That his outgoingness isn’t going to win them over.

An R and D manager doesn’t need to be outgoing. They need to know their shit.

And I know my shit.

“Yes,” I say, leaving it at that.

My answer falls flat, and I know that my best friend is going to see right through it. It’s not a lie. Again, I am excited. This is an amazing opportunity. One I’ve worked really hard for.

Yet, I’m not jumping up and down internally about it like I was a few weeks ago.

“Buuuuut…” Eliza prompts.

But that was before Anton Hayes.

Before Mr. Too good-looking for his own good fruit-stand guy walked into my life and turned it upside down. Before I knew how much fun playing around in the field could be. Literally. Before I knew what life in a big, loving family was like .

Before he ripped my heart out and stomped on it.

I thought he was different. That was my first mistake.

Potentially my biggest. Letting my guard down and thinking I could trust him.

Only to have that trust be thrown back in my face.

His words cut deep—deeper than anything ever has.

I’d be lying if I said I’m not a little worried that it’s deeper than anything will ever cut again.

Leaving Hickory Hills as fast as I did—and in the state I was in—was not my finest moment.

Actually, nothing about how I handled that situation was particularly becoming.

I can’t be sure, since it’s a bit of blur, but I’m pretty sure in my mess of tears and anger I said some things to Miss Belle about her son that were not very kind.

Anton deserved every one of them—and more.

But no mother needs to be on the receiving end of outbursts where their child is referred to as a heartless jackass.

The choice to come home to Hurricane Shoals, though, rather than back to Atlanta, was more surprising. Then again, it wasn’t so much a choice as I was past the point of no return when I realized where I was heading. Crisis-mode autopilot had me driving toward the comforts of home, I guess.

I pick up my Coke, taking a long sip. “I dunno.”

Eliza stops what she’s doing, turning to me, hands planted on the bar. “Want to talk about it?”

No.

I haven’t wanted to talk about it since I got here. What makes her think this is suddenly going to be the moment I want to spill?

To be fair, Eliza is the only one who even knows the real reason I’m here. Everyone else in town, my parents included, thinks that I made a surprise visit to “burn some PTO and relax before my big interview.” A damn good excuse if I do say so myself .

Not that my parents have been around much. They managed to squeeze me in for lunch the other day, in between tours, and actually did sound interested in hearing about my potential promotion. A pleasant change from the last time I visited. Still a far cry from Auggie and Miss Belle though.

“That’s it.” Eliza slams her open palm down on the bar, the loud noise barely registering over the noise from the crowd. She twists just enough to holler over her shoulder, her face contorted into an expression that means business. “Jack, watch the bar. Sawyer and I are going for a walk.”

“What? No, we’re not.”

She rounds the bar in no time flat, grabbing my elbow and hauling me off the stool. “Oh, yes, we are.”

Thick, sticky summer air hits straight in the face as Eliza shoves me out a side door, the temperature spike from the nice, air-conditioned bar to the alley a shock to the system, despite the sea breeze.

I stumble, my legs unsteady underneath me, feeling like a drunk being kicked out rather than the completely sober hot mess that I am.

“Alright, Sawyer Brown.” The door slams behind her, the harsh noise punctuating the statement that it’s just the two of us now.

“You are my best friend, the sister I never had, and I love you more than anything. But you show up, unannounced, and all you’ll say is ‘Anton Hayes isn’t what I thought’ and here we are, a week later and that’s still all I got.

So, out with it. Or I’m going back in there, firing up the karaoke machine early, and making you sing that song you hate. ”

Some Girls Do…

Tears prick at the corners of my eyes and I slam them shut, trying to hold them in. I do hate that song. Except when Anton sings it. No, especially when he does. The thought of him humming that tune makes my stomach churn, my anger firing up all over again.

“We should walk to Licks and grab some ice cream. It’s a long story.”

Eliza nods, looping her arm in mine and leading the way.

I launch into the story before we round the corner, starting right from the beginning with the fruit stand and pulling over looking for directions.

Some of it is a repeat—it’s not like we haven’t talked all summer—but I add in plenty of details I’ve left out via our texts, and toss in some additional background that’s helpful for understanding the whole picture.

She listens, although she also doesn’t hold back with her own commentary and jokes about the irony of how we met and what I would later ask of Anton.

Looking back as I tell her the whole tale from beginning to end, had I realized that those wouldn’t be the first set of directions that Anton was going to give me, and that his help in facing my anxiety over sex would lead us here, I would have kept driving.

“Know what the worst part of this is?” I ask sarcastically as we finish up our ice cream. “I didn’t get my letter of recommendation.”

Eliza stops dead in her tracks, the sidewalk reasonably empty for the middle of a Saturday, but still busy enough that she clogs traffic.

“That’s the worst part? That’s the worst part? You’re standing here half heartbroken and the worst part of all this is the lack of a letter of recommendation?”

“That letter would go a long way in helping me land this job. A deal is a deal. He promised.”

“Even though you’re not about to uphold your end of the deal either,” she points out.

Touché.

I purse my lips, stepping out of the way of a stroller, letting them pass as I digest the accusation.

Because she’s right; I’m not. I’m not in Hickory Hills getting all dolled up for a wedding tonight.

Instead, I’m standing on a sidewalk in a small beach town, my hands sticky from the remnants of an ice cream cone.

“Not the point.”

“I know,” she says, looping her arms through mine again. “And you know what I think? I think you don’t need that letter. You’re a badass all on your own and you’re going to show them that on Thursday.”

Damn, I hope she’s right.

My phone vibrates in my pocket and I reach for it, checking to make sure that it’s not something important. I’m halfway to dismissing the notification of an email from my boss—it’s Saturday for crying out loud—when I see the subject line. Sawyer Brown Letter of Recommendation

My heart stops. I know these damn devices listen to us even if they claim they don’t, but that’s a little weird. Is the universe fucking with me?

I click on the email, holding my breath.

From: Robert Dunn

To: Sawyer Brown

Subject: Sawyer Brown Letter of Recommendation

Hey!

Know it’s Saturday and all, but wanted to make sure that you had a copy of this for Thursday in case you get asked for references. Looks like you really wowed them at Hayes!

R

Ummm…what? Really wowed them?

I blink a couple of times, rereading my boss’s message. Because after last week, there is no way I “wowed” anyone. Unless it was Cary. Yeah, that must be it. Cary Adler took it upon himself to write something. That’s sweet.

Clicking on the attachment, I try to tell myself to calm down, my heart rate kicking up a notch as I wait for it to load. The Hayes Industries logo appears at the top, making it race even faster, and I skim down to the letter, not sure I’m ready to know what it says.

To whom it may concern,

I’m writing this letter to recommend Sawyer Brown for the position of Lead Research and Development Manager.

I cannot recommend Sawyer enough for this position. She is hardworking, earnest, loyal, dedicated, and any other adjective I can manage to dig out of the thesaurus. She is exactly everything you could ever want and more, and frankly, it’s heartbreaking to see her go.

We have enjoyed having her here at Hayes this summer.

More than I could ever put into words. She has challenged our way of thinking, kept us on our toes, and shown us that sometimes you have to be open to new things.

We will never be the same, in every good way possible, and we have Sawyer to thank for that.

When I say it was our sincere pleasure to host Sawyer, I mean it. If I could steal her from you, I would. Truly, if I knew of a way to keep her, nothing would stop me. Forever has absolutely crossed my mind.

Because while I’m sure you have a plethora of choices of who you could pick, in my mind, there is only one choice. And that choice is Sawyer Brown.

Best,

Anton Haye s

I can’t breathe. Like, actually, honest-to-God, can’t breathe. My chest tightens and my pulse skyrockets, the already thick air somehow solidifying to the point where it’s like mud. What did I just read?

“What?” Eliza asks, taking my phone.

I step back, propping myself up against a pillar, needing the support before my knees give out. Anton sent the letter. After all that, he still sent the letter. A nice letter. A very nice letter.

Fuck, a glowing letter.

“Sawyer, this isn’t a letter of recommendation. You know that, right? This is a fucking love letter.”

What?!

I snatch my phone back, reading over the letter again. And again. And again.

Holy shit, she’s not wrong. Take out the fact that he mentions the position I am applying for, insert the knowledge of our fling…and this letter reads differently.

Very, very differently.

Truly, if I knew of a way to keep her, nothing would stop me. Forever has absolutely crossed my mind.

Holy shit.

My tears return, though this time they aren’t from anger, but a mix of a million other things. Most of which I can’t name.

Looking back down at my phone, I register the time and do some quick math. It’s going to be cutting it close—and depending on what the rules are and if we’re going to be cut any slack, then I might not make it. But I have to try.

“Liza, I need a favor.”

“Anything.”

“Can I borrow your green dress?”

“Of course. Why?”

“Because a deal’s a deal.”