Saylor

by Kelsie Rae

  Owen laughs. “I can see that too. Why’d you pick green, though? I thought you liked orange?”

  “I picked it ‘cause I wanted you to not be worried. Say said you sounded scared.”

  Owen clears his throat as his eyes turn glassy. Then, he wraps his arm around Grady’s shoulders and pulls him into his side.

  “Aw, man, you’re the sweetest kid on the planet, but you shouldn’t be worried about me. I’m the dad. It’s my job to worry and to protect you, remember?”

  Grady nods.

  “I’m sorry I wasn’t here,” Owen murmurs, his voice thick with remorse.

  “It’s okay,” Grady mutters into his dad’s chest before pulling away and looking over at me. “Say was here. Right, Say?”

  “Yup.” I smile. “And I’m not going anywhere, am I, Grady?”

  “Nope.”

  “So I heard,” Owen informs me.

  So he was listening for a while.

  I purse my lips. “Did you get to finish the analysis or whatever?”

  “Yeah.”

  “And your meeting with Lucian?” I ask before biting my tongue. “Actually, forget I said anything. We can most definitely talk about that later. Let’s just focus on Grady, shall we?”

  Owen’s gaze holds mine before he rests his cheek on top of Grady’s head. “We will be addressing that later, Say. But you’re right. For now, I need an update on my little man.”

  So I fill him in. About the ice. And the stitches. And the x-rays. I tell him about how brave Grady is. How sweet. And Owen listens to every word before the doctor interrupts us with Grady’s release papers.

  Then we all pile into an Uber since that’s how Owen got here and head to his house.

  As we pull up the driveway, Owen thanks the driver, then turns to me. “Will you come inside?”

  “I, uh….”

  “Please?” Grady begs, still sandwiched between his father and me. “Dad bought some Butterbeer before the trip. Maybe we can watch Harry Potter or something?”

  My heart melts as I take in his damn puppy dog eyes.

  With a hesitant nod, I slide out of the back seat. “Whatever you say, Grady. Let’s go.”

  28

  Owen

  Grady’s asleep within five minutes after insisting he snuggle between Say and me for the movie. Gotta give the boy props for twisting Say’s arm, though. I could see it in her eyes. Her need to run away. It was the same look that she had right before she disappeared to the bathroom at the banquet, only to never return to our table.

  I glance over at her before stretching my arms along the back of the couch to massage her neck. Rolling her head forward, she sighs softly.

  “That feels good,” she whispers with her eyes closed.

  “You’ve had a long day. Thank you, again, for being there for Grady.”

  “I’ll always be there for Grady. For as long as he wants me.”

  “I may have pieced that together from your conversation today,” I admit as Hermoine and Ron flicker on the screen in the otherwise dim room.

  With a sad smile, she turns and kisses the inside of my wrist. “So when were you going to tell me that you won’t be returning to Granite Elementary anymore?”

  “I wasn’t hiding it from you, Saylor. It just hadn’t come up.”

  “Liar,” she argues, that same sad smile nearly breaking me.

  Carefully, I lift Grady’s head from my lap and offer my hand to her. “Can we go talk in the kitchen or something?”

  As if my hand is a rabid dog, she eyes it warily before taking it. Our bare feet pad across the hardwood floor, echoing off the walls as her silence eats at my lower gut.

  I need to fix this.

  The glasses are above the dishwasher in the renovated kitchen, and I reach for one. Filling it with ice water, I give it to her without a word and watch as she takes a sip while avoiding my gaze.

  My palm is rough against my face as I rub it from my forehead to my chin before diving right in. “Wells was at the restaurant that we went to with Grady a couple of weeks ago. He saw us together and made a comment about interoffice relationships.”

  “It’s allowed––”

  “If you’re a teacher. If you’re a vice-principal, that's a different story,” I clarify before rounding the island to take a seat next to her on a barstool. Her long legs swing back and forth on the swivel chair as her trimmed fingernails clink against the outside of her glass.

  “What are you saying?” she whispers.

  I lift her chin and force her to look up at me. “I’m saying that Wells didn’t like the idea of you dating a possible subordinate, and I didn’t want to ruin your shot at getting the promotion. So, I quit.”

  Her silence speaks volumes as she lifts her glass and takes another quick sip. “Okay, then.”

  “Okay?” I ask.

  “Yup.”

  “Anymore questions?” My mouth curves up with amusement until I notice that she’s still as somber as before. “What’s wrong?”

  “How’d it go?” she whispers.

  Confused, I wrack my brain for whatever the hell she’s talking about.

  “The game?” I ask.

  She shakes her head. “The meeting with Lucian Steele.”

  “Oh.” Resting my elbows on the granite counter, I answer, “Really good, actually.”

  “And?” Her gaze darts over to me.

  “And he offered me a position.”

  She gulps. “Doing what?”

  “Being an assistant coach.”

  “Are you going to take it?” she whispers, staring at the nearly empty glass in front of her while avoiding my gaze again like a champ.

  Apparently, it’s one step forward, two steps back today.

  “I want to,” I admit.

  Her shoulders hunch as if my response is a physical weight I just placed on them. I lean closer and nudge her gently. “Why are you sad?”

  “Are you even going to invite me to come or ask my opinion on the matter? Or are you just going to pack up and leave again? What’s the plan, Owen? Where do I fall on your priority list this time? Huh?”

  As if I’ve been slapped, I jerk away from her before swallowing back my frustration. Lifting her chin to make sure I have her full attention, I murmur, “Is that what you think?”

  She squeezes her eyes shut. “You tell me.”

  “I think I should probably tell you what team Lucian was referring to.”

  “It doesn’t matter––”

  “Trust me, Saylor. It really does.” I place my hand on top of her trembling one, then squeeze softly. “It’s for the Tornadoes.”

  With a gasp, her lips part. “As in…?”

  “The university that’s about thirty minutes away? Yeah. That’s the one.”

  “S-so you wouldn’t be moving?” Her confusion is damn near palpable and makes me want to shake her.

  “Why the hell would I move?” I demand. “I love you, Say. My son loves you. Your family’s here. Your career’s here. Your life is here. And other than Grady, you’re my life. My family. My future. I don’t give a shit about a career that would put us at risk. I tried that before, remember? Let me tell you from first-hand experience. It’s not worth it. I want you. I want us. I want this.”

  Chewing on her thumbnail, she finally finds the courage to look me in the eye without me forcing her to. Her insecurities shine back at me, but it only makes me fall for her more. Because I can see her battling them. I can see the trust that I’ve worked so hard to build peeking its way through all the shit from our past. I can see it all.

  “You’re sure?” she breathes.

  “Of course, I’m sure. Saylor, I’ve known for years. Haven’t I made that clear? Do you know what I was doing before I moved back?”

  “Last I’d heard, you were helping LAU recruit new players.”

  “Yeah, and I was miserable. Not because I didn’t love my job or analyzing high school football games, but because you weren’t with me.” Scrubbin
g my hand over my face, I ask, “Did you ever see the message I sent to your original Birds and Bees account?”

  She shakes her head at the same moment Grady’s bare feet pad across the hardwood floor, demanding my attention.

  “Hey, Dad?” he croaks, his hair mussed up as he peeks around the corner.

  I nudge her phone that’s lying on the kitchen counter closer to her. “Why don’t you take a look while I put Grady to bed?” Then, I leave her alone with the most embarrassing message I’ve ever sent, praying it’ll be enough to convince her that I’m the real deal, and I’d choose her and Grady over any opportunity in the world.

  29

  Saylor

  Hey, Say.

  I’ve left you alone because I felt like you didn’t want to hear from my sorry ass after everything that happened between us. Everything I put you through. I’ve tried to reach out more times than I can count, but I always end up deleting the messages before hitting send.

  First, you probably want to know why I ended things. It’s complicated and doesn’t even really matter anymore, but I think you want an explanation, and I think you deserve it too.

  However, before you keep reading this, I need you to promise me that you won’t be mad at your dad. Please? I can’t stand the idea of causing a rift between you and him. He’s your rock, Say. And he’s a good guy. He just wants what’s best for you. That’s all he’s ever wanted. I guess what I’m saying is…if you continue to read this message, then you’re agreeing not to kill your father. Okay?

  Good.

  The week before graduation, I bought a promise ring and asked your dad for his permission to give it to you. Your dad asked me to choose between you and football. I chose you. But then your dad made me stop and think about it. He pointed out the fact that we were young. That we had our whole lives ahead of us. That if we stayed together, we’d always be tied down, and we wouldn’t get to spread our wings and shit. He asked if I ever looked back on my life and didn’t go to school to play football…would I have regretted it? And I couldn’t answer his question, Saylor. Because I didn’t know. I couldn’t tell the future. But I was the football prodigy, ya know? I was invited to all the camps. I had interviews with big-name reporters that loved to speculate about my future even though I was in HIGH SCHOOL. How crazy was that? And I wanted to know what I could do.

  But I wanted to know what you could do too. Without me steering the ship of our future. I wanted to see you use that big brain of yours. I wanted to see you use your heart to its fullest potential. I wanted to see you become the badass I know you are, and I was afraid you couldn’t do that if you were too busy worrying about my dreams.

  Your profile says you’re a teacher. That’s perfect, Say. It suits you. You’ve always had the patience of a saint, though I know I used up the last of it.

  I want you to know that I’m not blaming your dad for my decision, Saylor. But he made a lot of good points that made me question whether or not our futures were too different to stay connected. I knew you’d pick my career in football over your dreams, and that broke me. I’ve analyzed my conversation with your dad a thousand times, along with my decision and the way I ended things, and I’m still not sure how I could’ve fixed it.

  I DO know that I should’ve been stronger. I should’ve recognized that what we had might not have been the norm, but that it was promising. It was still worth fighting for. And I’ll regret that moment for the rest of my life.

  After how everything went down, I felt like you deserved a chance to move on and experience life without me. I can lie and say I’m doing okay, but that’s all it is––a giant-ass lie. I haven’t been okay since the moment I left. But I got used to it. Hell, I accepted your absence like a masochist because I thought you were better off without me.

  Then I found this account. And seeing you like this? On a dating app? Trying to find your one and only? It’s unbearable. Because I’M your one and only, aren’t I?

  The idea of you with someone else is so unbearable that I’m drunk off my ass, sick to my stomach at the idea of someone claiming you the way that you claimed me a long time ago. I want you to know that it’s always been you. That my life looks pretty great on paper, but none of it means anything without you in it. And I’m tired of accepting your absence.

  I know a lot has changed since I left. I have a kid. You probably know that. And I love him, Say. You’d love him too. I don’t regret having him, but I do regret that he isn’t yours. I’d give anything to have babies with you, Say. To build the dream we dreamt about. Together. The idea of you doing it with someone else…it guts me, Say. I can’t take it.

  So, I quit today. Just walked in and quit. Like I said, it’s not because I don’t love my job. It’s because I love you more. And I’m tired of pushing you away, telling myself that we were too young, that you deserved more, that you deserved time to figure your life out and to build your own dreams instead of having each of them revolving around me.

  I still want you to have your own dreams, don’t get me wrong, but I want to be part of them now. Hell, I’ll be second to them as long as I get to kiss you in the morning and breathe you in at night. I know I’m drunk off my ass and that I’m probably rambling right now. Hell, this might not even make sense when you read it. But I’m done deleting these messages. I’m done sweeping how I feel for you under the rug.

  If you take anything from this long-ass message, it’s this. I’m coming for you, Saylor Swenson. And I won’t ever leave your side unless you beg me to. But even then, it’ll be like living without a heart. Because that’s what you are. You’re my heart, Say. I love you.

  -Owen

  PS-Take down that bikini picture right now. It’s killing me.

  PPS-Grady’s going to adore you just like I do.

  I wipe the tears from my cheeks and look up from my phone. Owen’s resting his shoulder against the doorjamb to the kitchen. Watching me. Assessing me. Analyzing every minor facial expression in hopes of reading my mind.

  But he doesn’t need to.

  “You were right,” I mention. “This is a long-ass message.”

  He laughs. “I guess I had a lot to say.”

  “And I guess I had a lot I needed to hear. You wrote this a while ago,” I note before setting my phone back down on the granite countertop in front of me.

  “I had a few things I needed to do before moving back.”

  “Like what?” The barstool swivels until I’m facing Owen head-on.

  “Like selling my house. Getting Grady’s mom to sign over her rights. Finding a home here. Enrolling Grady in your class. Those things.”

  “You knew Grady would be in my class?” I ask, my surprise evident.

  He smirks, and it makes my stomach do a backflip. “I knew he’d be at your school, and when I found out you taught the same grade, I requested it, yeah. How else did you think I’d convince you to talk to me?”

  Sneaky bastard.

  “But you didn’t go to parent’s night,” I remind him.

  Pushing himself away from the doorway, he strides closer. “I was a coward. I needed a little more liquid courage like the night I wrote you that long-ass message.”

  “Except Grady got into a fight before you could find it.”

  “Damn right, he did.” Owen’s chest swells with pride. “Best rule he ever broke.”

  I smile. “I do love him, you know.”

  “He loves you.”

  My emotions feel like they’re overflowing from every pore as I choke out, “And I love you.”

  “I love you too,” he murmurs before his calloused hand tickles my cheek. “Do you believe me now? That I’m not going to leave at the drop of a hat? That I’m done with all the outside bullshit if it takes me away from you and Grady?”

  I nod. “Yes.”

  “Good.” His touch disappears for an instant before he wraps his arms around my waist and yanks me up from my chair before plastering our chests together. Like he can’t get close enough to me. T
he same way I can’t get close enough to him. Especially after reading his message.

  “I’m going to kill my dad,” I admit.

  He shakes his head. “You promised.”

  “No, I didn’t.”

  “The terms were right there,” he argues before reciting them from memory. “If you continue to read this message, then you’re agreeing not to kill your father.”

  Rolling my eyes, I counter, “That’s hardly a binding contract.”

  He tsks, “Uh-uh, Saylor Swenson. Sorry, but a deal’s a deal. You’re not allowed to be mad at him.”

  “But I am allowed to ask why he meddled in our relationship,” I counter before wiggling out of his grasp to look up at him.

  He rubs his hand across his face. “If you feel like you need to confront him, then I support you. But I want you to know that your dad and I already talked it out. He apologized––”

  “To you,” I point out.

  “He was ashamed, Say. For the shit he put you through. For the shit he put us both through,” Owen corrects himself. “But he didn’t mean to. He was just trying to protect you.”

  “I know that. It just….” My teeth dig into the pad of my thumb as I try to let go of all the pain and frustration that could’ve been prevented if it weren’t for my dad sticking his nose where it didn’t belong.

  “Trust me, Saylor. He’d give anything to take it back. He told me about how hard it was to watch you hurting. It gutted him.”

  “Yeah, but I was gutted first,” I argue, my voice cracking.

  “Shh.” He pulls me closer. “You’re right. You were. But don’t you think we’ve done enough mourning for our past? And without either of us being gutted by our breakup, I never would’ve had Grady. And I can’t imagine my life without him.”

  Neither can I.

  “Our path was a rocky one, but I wouldn’t change it,” he rasps. “It gave me my son. It gave you a chance to shine on your own. And it brought us back together. That’s enough for me. But I understand if you need closure from your dad before this is enough for you too.” He nudges my phone a few inches closer to me on the counter. “I’m letting you out of the one-hundred-percent legally binding contract from the message.” His smirk softens. “And when you’re ready, come find me.”