For the Save (Playing for Keeps #4)

by Amber Garza

  “Do you really think you’re fooling anyone?” His words stunned me.

  Not at all the reaction I had been expecting. Ignoring his comment, I flicked on the lighter, watching the flame dance above it as it coated the end of the cigarette. Before I could suck in, Sawyer reached out and batted the cigarette away with his hand. It flew into the grass nearby. Sawyer stomped it out with his boot.

  “What the hell?”

  “This isn’t you, Addie.”

  “Addison!” I snapped.

  “Sorry,” he apologized. “Addison.”

  “And how do you know who I am? We’ve barely had a handful of conversations.” I shoved the lighter back in my pocket. I’d thought of trying to light up again, if for no other reason than to spite him. But I was afraid he’d swat that one away too. It was difficult enough to get a pack of cigarettes. I didn’t want to keep wasting the ones I had.

  “There are other ways to get to know someone.”

  “Ahh, I see.” I nodded with understanding. “So you think just because we’re both grieving someone that we’re the same. Let me clue you into something. We’re not. You lost a friend. I lost my family. It’s not the same thing. You have no idea what I’m going through, so stop trying to act like you do.”

  The expression on his face made me wish I’d kept my mouth shut. Pity wasn’t something I wanted. In fact, it was something I loathed with every part of my being. “I know it’s different,” he spoke softly. “We’ve suffered in completely different ways. But I have to disagree with you about us not being the same. We are the same, you and I. Not in every way, but in some ways.”

  Swallowing hard, I shook my head. When he took another step toward me, irritation swam through my veins. Didn’t the guy know anything about personal space? “I don’t know what you hope to accomplish by talking to me, but if you think we’re going to have some heart-to-heart, or become BFFs, you’re going to be sorely disappointed.”

  “Why do you do this?” He asked, his eyes searching mine. I backed up further, trying to escape his intense gaze, but my back rammed right into a tree. “Why are you so scared to let someone in?”

  “I’m not scared,” I replied angrily. “I could let someone in if I wanted to.”

  “Then do it.”

  “I said, if I wanted to,” I clarified. “But I don’t. And if I did, it sure as hell wouldn’t be you.”

  “Oh, I think it would be me.”

  “Really? And why is that?” I had no idea why I was encouraging him, but truthfully he had me a little curious. His conviction seemed to be deeper than him having a large ego.

  “Because I know what it’s like to feel lonely.”

  The air left me. I wanted to ask him what he was talking about, but I couldn’t formulate the words. I felt dizzy, sick.

  Reaching into his pocket, he yanked out a folded up piece of binder paper. When he smoothed it out, I recognized it immediately, and my stomach dropped.

  “How did you get that?” I spoke through gritted teeth, snatching the paper from his hand.

  “You dropped it when you ran away from me at school the other day,” he explained calmly. “I called out after you, but you ignored me.”

  “So you read it?” He was looming over me, so close we were almost touching. My heart pounded erratically beneath my chest, the paper quivering between my fingers.

  “I was curious.” He shrugged, one side of his lip curling upward. Damn, it was cute, and that pissed me off even more. I reached out to shove him away, but his hands wrapped around my wrists. The force of it caused my fingers to open, the paper fluttering to the ground. It landed in the grass near my feet. I glanced down at it helplessly. “Stop running away,” he spoke so forcefully that I stopped fighting him. “Stop pretending you don’t care; that nothing matters to you; that you don’t feel things. The girl who wrote this feels things. She feels them very deeply. And she’s tired of being alone.” His gaze crashed into mine. “So am I.” Hunger flashed in his eyes and he angled his head. His grip on my wrists tightened. I knew what was coming, and I knew I should stop it. So why didn’t I? Before I could register anything else, his lips slammed into mine. The kiss wasn’t soft. He didn’t take his time. Didn’t ask politely. Didn’t make sure I was okay with it. Instead, every movement was sloppy, desperate, hard. And I was grateful. I didn’t want to be treated with kid gloves. I didn’t want gentle.

  His mouth clamped over mine forcefully, his fingernails digging into the flesh of my wrists. Closing my eyes, I allowed myself to feel every push and pull, every touch, every motion. I sank into him, savoring the pressure of his lips as they moved manically, opening and closing as if tasting me. His tongue forced its way into my mouth, thrusting over mine, and I honed in on the feel of it. I reached up, clutching his shirt in my hand, encouraging him to continue. I drew him even closer as if it was possible for us to fuse into one person. I wanted to give him all my pain. Give him my fears, my loneliness, my darkness. As the kiss deepened, it was like he was inhaling it, breathing it in. It was as if it poured out of me, slipped off my tongue.

  Sawyer’s hands left my wrists and slid up my arms, circling my neck. His fingers slipped beneath my hair, and that’s when I realized nothing was free. I might have been able to release my pain, but it came at a price, because Sawyer was releasing his too.

  And I knew I wasn’t that girl. The one he needed. The one who could help him.

  I tore my lips from his and shoved him back. Startled, his hands fell from my neck. “It was just a stupid poem. It didn’t mean anything.” Narrowing my eyes, I added, “And neither did this.” Unable to look at his face, I stared hard at the ground and hurried away from him.

  CHAPTER 6

  Sawyer

  I hadn’t planned on kissing her. Not that I hadn’t thought about it before. Every time she puckered up those sexy lips of hers the idea crossed my mind. But this time she hadn’t pursed her lips. She hadn’t done anything sexy at all. Hadn’t encouraged me in any way. In fact, it’s safe to say she’d perfected the pissed off look. My desire to kiss her didn’t come from attraction. It came from need.

  Don’t get me wrong, I found her attractive. However, it was my desperation that drove me to kiss her. The desperation to connect with her on a deep level. To make her feel, to make her open up. And she did. I felt it in the way she responded to me, in the way she held tightly to my shirt. She felt something. She connected with me. I was sure of it.

  And that’s why I couldn’t let her run away.

  By the time I reached her, she’d finally lit up that cigarette she seemed to want so badly. She leaned against a tree near the edge of the parking lot. A smile tugged at my lips at the fact that she hadn’t made it very far. I remembered that her mom had driven here last time and surmised that must be the case again.

  “God, you seriously do not know when to take a hint,” she said.

  Facing her, I rested my shoulder against the tree. “I don’t know if I’d call what you said a hint. I’d say it was pretty damn spelled out.”

  “Then what are you doing here?” She brought the cigarette to her lips and sucked in. As it crackled, the end turned bright red. Watching her, my lips buzzed at the memory of our mouths pressed together.

  I shrugged. “What are any of us doing here?”

  She glared, blowing out a stream of smoke. It whisked over my face. “I didn’t mean why are you here on earth? I meant why are you here, standing next to me?”

  “I know, but I guess I’ve been wondering more about the big picture lately.” I studied her face, lingering on her bright green eyes. If only she knew how expressive they were. There was a lot more than anger inside of them. “Preston could’ve shot me just as easily as he shot Ryan. I can’t help but feel like I’m living on borrowed time. And it makes me wonder why, you know? Like what’s my purpose? Why am I still here?” I hadn’t shared these thoughts with anyone else before, and I had no idea why I was sharing them now. And why was I telling this angry gir
l who’d pushed me away on more than one occasion?

  She gave me the subtlest of nods. “Sometimes I wish Ben had taken me with him. I get angry that he took the easy way out, and he left me to deal with the hard stuff.”

  And then I knew why I’d told her. She did understand how I felt. “As embarrassed as I am to admit it, I feel the same way. I mean, I’m glad I survived, but sometimes I feel jealous of Ryan. I know that sounds crazy, but he doesn’t have to deal with the nightmares and memories the way I do.”

  She glanced over at the church. “Does the group help you?”

  “A little,” I answered honestly.

  She sighed, dropping her cigarette to the ground and smashing it with the toe of her shoes. “I’m not like you. I don’t like to talk about how I feel.”

  “Then don’t.” I reached for her hand, sliding my fingers through hers.

  Her gaze lowered to our hands linked between us. “What do you want from me, Sawyer?”

  “Nothing,” I answered.

  A bitter laugh escaped from her throat. “Everyone wants something.”

  “Okay, fair enough. I do want something.”

  “I knew it,” her tone hardened.

  “I want you to stop running from me.”

  Her eyes snapped to mine. “I know you think I can help you, but I can’t. Not now. I’m too broken.”

  “I didn’t say I wanted you to help me. I just said I wanted you to stop running away from me.” I smiled, squeezing her hand tighter.

  “But why? Why do you care?”

  “Call me crazy, but I like you.”

  She pulled her hand away. “Now I know you’re lying.”

  “Well, I’m not basing this all on our last few conversations.” At my statement, a small smile tugged at the edge of her lips. “The girl standing before me is much different than the one I’ve gone to school with for years.”

  Darkness flashed in her eyes. “If you’re holding out hope that she’ll come back, let me make this easy for you – that girl is gone.”

  “I know,” I said. “Because the old Sawyer, the one everyone called Riddles, is gone too. And I know you get that. It doesn’t seem like anyone else does, and that’s why I like you.”

  “You like me because I’m just as messed up in the head as you?” She chuckled.

  “Something like that.” I reached for her hand again. “What do you say?”

  “To what?” Her eyebrows knit together.

  “Will you stop running away from me?” I tugged her closer.

  She gave me a pensive look. “Maybe. If you promise not to make me go back to that stupid group. And you stop stealing my poems.”

  “Deal.” I grinned. “But I should point out that I wouldn’t have stolen your poem if you hadn’t run away from me.”

  She shook her head. With my free hand, I touched her face. Her skin was silky beneath my fingertips, and I ached to kiss her again. But then noise sounded behind us. Addison’s eyes widened. When I peered behind me, I saw people filing out of the church.

  Addison’s gaze swept the parking lot. “My mom will be here any minute.”

  I dropped my hand, disappointment sinking into my gut. “You don’t drive?”

  “I do, but my mom insists on driving me here.” She frowned. “To make sure I actually go.”

  “A lot of good it does,” I teased her.

  She tossed me a smile. God, she was pretty when she smiled. I vowed to make her do it as often as possible.

  “Shit. She’s here.” She sprang into action. “Walk out with me. Maybe if she sees us talking she’ll think I made a friend or something.”

  “Didn’t you?”

  “Ha ha. I’m gonna have to start calling you Riddles again.” She moved away from the cluster of trees, and I followed her. “Do I smell like smoke?”

  “So bad it’s like an ashtray,” I replied honestly.

  She narrowed her eyes at me.

  I threw up my arms. “You asked.”

  Sighing, she said, “Oh, well. Nothin’ I can do now.” When we reached her mom’s car, she turned to me. “I guess I’ll see you later?”

  “Yeah.” After she opened the passenger door, I ducked my head down to peek inside. The stunned look Addison threw me was comical. “Hi, Mrs. West,” I spoke to her mom. “I’m Sawyer. Addison and I go to school together.”

  “Nice to meet you.” She said to me, but then eyed her daughter funny.

  “I’ve been attending this group for a little while, and I’m happy to give Addison a ride to the next meeting.”

  Mrs. West nodded. “That would be great, actually. I have some things I have to take care of.”

  Addison flashed me a look of gratitude that made it all worth it.

  “I’ll talk to you at school, Addison.”

  “Okay,” she answered softly before slipping inside the car and closing the door. As her mom drove off, I watched Addison through the window, her purple hair shining in the sunlight. When they neared the street, she craned her neck, and our eyes met. Lifting my hand, I gave her a little wave, and I saw the ghost of a smile play on her lips before the car pulled out of the lot.

  The small smile may not have seemed like a big deal, but to me it was everything.

  The football soared right past me. In fact, it almost hit me in the head. It was so close, wind whistled over my ear. With a groan, I reached down and picked it up out of the thick reeds of grass. It was a little colder tonight, dark grey clouds rolling in overhead. I shivered as I stood back up.

  “Dude, watcha thinkin’ about?” Holden hollered out from across the field.

  “Nothin’.” I shrugged, tossing the ball back to him.

  “Your head’s in the clouds, man.” After catching the ball, he started jogging in my direction. “Chloe’s been forcing me to talk about my feelings and crap,” he said when he reached me. “And I know you were sitting right next to Ryan when he was…” his words trailed off, and he stared at me as if begging me to say something. Anything to put him out of his misery.

  Chuckling, I shook my head. “Relax. You don’t have to get all Dr. Phil on me. This isn’t about Ryan.” I marveled at the fact that this was the first time in weeks I wasn’t thinking about Ryan. The effect Addison had on me was overwhelming.

  “Then what is it about?” The football was tucked under his arm. The baseball cap he wore sat low on his forehead, and his eyes were almost hidden in the shadows.

  A tiny grin leapt to my face.

  Holden nodded his head, his eyes widening in understanding. “This is about a girl, huh?”

  “Did we come out here to gab like a couple of chicks or are we gonna play ball?” I nudged him.

  “We will as soon as you tell me who the girl is.” Holden moved the ball out of my reach.

  “When did you get so nosy?” I joked.

  “Quit stalling. If you won’t tell me, I’ll just start listing names.”

  I should have let him do that. He never would’ve guessed Addison. But I didn’t want to stand out here all night while he attempted to guess. “It’s Addison West. Now can we play?”

  “Addison West, huh?” Surprise flickered in his eyes. “Didn’t realize you were into girls with purple hair.”

  “Didn’t realize you were into band girls,” I bantered back.

  Anger sparked in his eyes, but he quickly tempered it. “Point taken.” Whistling, he backed away from me. “Okay, we’ll play, but only if you think you can stop thinking about Addison long enough to actually catch the damn ball.”

  “Oh, it’s on.” I punched my fist into my palm as I waited for Holden to throw the ball. I felt a little lighter since telling Holden about Addison. I wasn’t sure how people would react when they saw us together. We were a mismatched pair. But after fielding his reaction, I realized I didn’t care what other people thought. This wasn’t about them. This was about me and Addison, and what we needed.

  Life was short and unpredictable.

  Therefore, I wante
d to make the most of every moment.

  CHAPTER 7

  Addison

  The dining room was empty. It had been that way for months. Stepping inside, I ran the pads of my fingers over the wooden surface. When I drew them back they were covered in dust. The chairs were neatly pushed in, the candle in the center of the table dark. As my gaze landed on the chair Ben used to sit in, my stomach clenched. The television sounded from the other room. A few minutes earlier, I’d heard the microwave ding. No doubt Mom was eating dinner in front of the TV again tonight. Not that she cooked anymore. I was sure it was one of the prepackaged meals. Not that it mattered. I wasn’t hungry anyway.

  Glancing down at my body, I cringed. I had always been thin. One of those girls who could eat anything and not gain weight. My friends were constantly jealous of me. But the truth was that I envied their curves. Kids hadn’t called them Macaroni Girl when they were in elementary school. I had finally started to fill out a little last year, but lately I’d lost all those extra pounds. I was now skin and bones, a walking skeleton.

  Moving around the table, I touched the chair that used to be mine. It was across from Ben’s. We liked to make faces at each other while Mom and Dad talked. Sometimes we’d kick each other from under the table. But subtly, so our parents didn’t notice. That was our game – to see how far we could go without getting caught. Apparently throwing food was where that line was drawn. The one time we tried it we both got in trouble and had to finish eating in our rooms.

  Dinnertime used to be eventful, used to be full of laughter and noise, good food. Now it was solitary. A microwaved meal in front of the television. One more reason I was angry with Ben. I often wondered if he ever thought about the affect his death would have on me. Did he even ponder it at all?

  I used to think we were close. Sure, we fought like all siblings, but we also had a lot of fun. We hung out, we watched movies, we played games, sometimes we even shared secrets. But he never told me this. He never once hinted that he wanted to end his life. In fact, he never even seemed sad to me. In the days leading up to his death, I remembered him laughing and talking like he hadn’t a care in the world. Looking back, I could remember some things that seemed off about him in the months before his death, but nothing too alarming.