Gathered Up

by Annabeth Albert

  “I get!” Aria went to the fridge and got a box from the lowest shelf. The three of us didn’t make a half-bad team.

  Of course I was singing a different tune not fifteen minutes later when I was cleaning spilled syrup from the floor, dusting flour off my jeans, and extracting blueberries from my hair.

  “Unca Holly need a bath!” Aria giggled as Sawyer carried her from the room in search of her own cleanup.

  As they passed, Sawyer whispered in my ear, “I’m totally going to run you a bath at my place. Scrub you all up.”

  “Behave,” I said, even as I blushed.

  The next two hours were two of the longest of my life.

  “Why won’t she sleep?” I asked as she bounced on her toddler bed in the room that had been Char’s as a kid. Her footed pajamas made her look like a little elf as she hopped from flat surface to flat surface in the room.

  “I don’t know.” Sawyer slumped on the floor. He’d done the lion’s share of the work—the cleanup and pajamas and the first five stories and the rocking in the rocking chair to see if that tired her out. I’d done the next five stories, and as scintillating as Santa Duck was, I didn’t think I had another read-through in me.

  “When she was little I’d walk the halls with her, but she’s too big for that now,” Sawyer said. “And it’s too cold and late to load her in the stroller. That works, too.”

  “How does Mommy get you to sleep?” I asked. It still felt weird to think of my sister as mommy. To me she was still fifteen and bossy with a bad haircut and a love for trashy TV, not someone’s mother.

  “Sing!” Aria laughed as she kept jumping. We’d tried leaving the room, but she’d followed us out every time.

  “Will you lie down if we sing?” Sawyer asked.

  “Yes.” She finally snuggled under her covers. “You sing.”

  Sawyer launched into a show tune from a musical he and Char were in back in high school. I started to creep from the room so that I could clean more downstairs, but Aria let out a bellow.

  “Unca Holly stay, too!”

  Sawyer sent me a look that said we were escaping together or not at all. He continued the song, which was a bit too upbeat for bedtime, but he’d always had a very pleasing baritone voice.

  “Sing about Santa!” the tiny dictator ordered.

  Switching gears, Sawyer launched into a Christmas carol, one the chorus had done at the concert the week before—and had it really only been a week? It felt like a lifetime from our kiss in the parking garage.

  “Unca Holly sing, too!” Aria did finally sound a bit sleepy.

  “Uncle Holly doesn’t sing.” I yawned. At least one of us was going to fall asleep before nine.

  “Please.” She looked over at us with beseeching eyes.

  And so I did the only reasonable thing and joined in, which made Sawyer grin widely and lose his place in the song. He recovered nicely, though, and there we sat on the floor of that little pink room for the next twenty minutes, singing until we were hoarse. Something changed in me in those minutes as memories of singing the songs with my parents flooded me not with grief but with warmth. And a new memory was cemented into place, one almost more sweet and tender than I could bear. Out of view of Aria, Sawyer held my hand until we could finally creep out of the room and fall in a heap on the couch downstairs.

  “Never having kids,” Sawyer said as he flipped on the TV to some Christmas special.

  “You don’t have to convince me.” I laughed. “I’m perfectly fine being the bachelor uncle for perpetuity.”

  “Hey, you don’t have to be the lonely uncle.” Sawyer tugged me closer. His eyes were wide and serious. If I weren’t so damn tired, I’d tell him that I was perfectly happy being alone, thank you very much, but I was exhausted both from running after Aria and from a week of not enough sleep, and Sawyer was so warm as he wrapped his arms around me.

  We both yawned at the exact same moment and I burrowed in closer to him. It said something that I knew his almost-asleep noises so well now that they were as soothing as a cup of herbal tea to my senses. The low notes of a pop star singing in the background and Sawyer’s steady heartbeat up closer lulled me until I, too, drifted off.

  The next thing I knew the door was creaking.

  “Oh my God, they fell asleep together,” Char said in a whisper that was anything but. “This is the most adorable thing ever.”

  “You take a picture and they’ll both kill you,” Tucker said sharply, and at the mention of a picture, my body came back online and I jerked upright.

  “You’re home?” I slid away from Sawyer, who was also waking up and stretching. I carefully didn’t look over at him as I adjusted my sleep-wrinkled clothes.

  “Yes, and the concert was lovely.” Char settled into one of the side chairs. “You know, I’ve always said you guys would make the cutest couple.”

  “Char. Leave them alone,” Tucker said before I could object. “Aria probably just ran them ragged.”

  “She was a handful.” I seized that excuse like it was a life preserver tossed out to me in the churning river that my life had suddenly become.

  “Very,” Sawyer added. “I’m not sure when I fell asleep, but it was probably because she had us singing endless Christmas carols.”

  “Wait. ‘Us’? Hollis sang?” Char laughed.

  “I don’t know why everyone seems to think I’m some bitter character in a holiday drama.” I stood and got my coat off the rack.

  “The last few years you’ve been the epitome of Scrooge,” Char said. “But you singing carols…come on, Sawyer, what have you done to my brother?”

  “Nothing.” Sawyer’s voice was strained and he looked like he was suppressing a smile. He’d always had the worst poker face.

  “Except give me a ride home,” I added sharply. We needed to get out of there fast.

  “Yeah, we should get going.” Sawyer finally stood and got his jacket. That didn’t stop Char from giving us both a knowing smile. Even Tucker was looking at us strangely.

  “You know, it would totally be the coolest thing—”

  “Never happening.” I cut off whatever twin fantasies she’d been about to spin and headed for the door, hoping Sawyer would follow. I needed out of there quick.

  * * * *

  “You can take me home.” I shivered against the bite of the night air, waiting for his car to warm up as he pulled away from Char and Tucker’s house.

  “What? No way.” Sawyer turned in the direction of his apartment, not mine back on Alberta. “I get that you’re embarrassed that Char and Tucker found us asleep, but it’s not like they found us fucking—”

  “Thank God.” The mere thought of that gave me hives.

  “I don’t see what the problem is.” Sawyer shrugged. He wasn’t shivering at all. “They’ll probably guess next week at Christmas, and if not then, then soon. I can’t keep my hands off you and you keep going all indignant and looking guilty every other minute.”

  “I do not. You’re the one with no poker face.” I ignored the part about not keeping his hands off me and definitely ignored the warm flush his words gave me.

  “How about we just tell everyone at Christmas?” Sawyer made this sound like the most reasonable suggestion ever, with a heavy dose of why-don’t-we-get-a-puppy level enthusiasm.

  I made a strangled sound as he pulled into his apartment’s parking lot behind the building. True to his word, he did have festive lights hanging from his balconies, but to me they looked more like spotlights waiting to uncover my personal failings. I wished I could share his unbridled enthusiasm for this terrible idea.

  “You can’t be serious.”

  “Why?” Sawyer got out of the car, which left me no choice but to follow him up the stairs to his place.

  However, I waited until we were in the apartment to answer. Last thing I nee
ded was more airing of our dirty laundry. “I’m not going to Christmas.”

  “Yes, you are.” Sawyer’s face wrinkled up, his eyes narrowing. “I’ve won the bet right? You sang Christmas songs tonight. You’ve…softened to the season. I can tell. Even Tucker and Char could see that you’re…different.”

  It wasn’t Christmas that had turned me soft and gooey—it was him. He was the one who had shown me what I’d lost. If I did have holiday feelings that weren’t morose, he was the one who had given them back to me. I needed him—needed his joy for the season, his prodding and cajoling and good humor. Needing him to get through this month was beyond foolish. Where would I be next year, when he moved on and I was alone once again with my grief? And that, even more than some newfound appreciation for the season, made terror fill my veins. My hands shook and I shoved them in my coat pockets so he wouldn’t see.

  “I haven’t changed. And even if I was to show up, one does not usually announce casual…liaisons to one’s family.”

  “Oh come on. You know that’s not what this is.” Sawyer kicked off his shoes, sending them skittering in opposite directions. “We’re…something. Something that apparently scares you, but we’re something.”

  “I’m not afraid,” I lied. “But what do you want? To go to Char and Tucker and say, ‘Hey, I’ve got something with Hollis. Not sure what, but it’s something.’” I imitated his deeper voice.

  “Yes, okay, yes. Because it is something. Something real. And you know that. And letting people know that we’re seeing each other or boyfriends or however you want to put it, seems to make a lot more sense than skulking around, acting like there’s something to be ashamed of.”

  “We are not boyfriends.” My voice shook. “I don’t do boyfriends. Never have.”

  “Yeah, well, maybe you should start.”

  “You’re one to talk—you’re the king of casual. Maybe you call them boyfriends, but we both know they never stick around long enough to justify the label.”

  Sawyer recoiled as if I’d punched him. I regretted my harsh words almost instantly. I started toward him, but he held up a hand.

  “Look, I’m sorry that that guy—the kink master, whatever his name was—broke your heart. But I’m serious about us having something. And I’ve told you, I’m not nearly the manwhore you seem to think I am.”

  “He didn’t break my heart,” I said firmly. “And I’ve never once called you that.”

  “You didn’t have to. But Hols, it’s clear you think I’m a flake when it comes to stuff like a relationship. Is that why you can’t trust me when I tell you I want something real with you? Tell you that we already have something real?” Sawyer sounded so hurt that I had to look away. I wanted to believe him.…I just couldn’t.

  “You think you’re serious.” I tried to soften my voice. “But you’re not. This is just a lark, a little preholiday diversion—”

  “I’m already making plans for January,” he shot back. “That class? What more do I need to do to show you that this isn’t just a fuck for me?”

  “Your track record—”

  “Seriously? You’re going to hold me to who I was fifteen years ago? I’m willing to believe that you’re no longer a judgmental introvert—”

  “Sawyer, I have always been a judgmental introvert, as you put it. I’ve never pretended to be anything less.”

  He grabbed me then, kissing me fiercely. “You’re scared, Hols. And I get it, but you’ve been scared of what’s between us for years, and I’m done waiting for you to come to your senses. And I’m not going to keep sneaking around when I want to celebrate that we’re finally doing this thing, and it feels so damn right—”

  “Don’t you get it?” My voice broke. “That’s the last thing I want. The celebrating. The people saying I told you so and isn’t it so cute and oh, how perfect and here, let me get a picture. Other people’s plans for us snowballing. Being noticed. I want privacy for my feelings. How I feel about you isn’t something I want to go wave around.”

  “Wow. Okay, then.” Hollis stepped back.

  “Call me an introverted asshole if you must, but Sawyer, I can’t be what you want here. I just can’t.”

  “Can you at least come to Christmas? I promised Char—”

  “What? Has this whole month been a promise to my sister?” My chest felt torn open. “You wonder why I can’t take you seriously? Sawyer, the whole world is just one big bet to you. You didn’t really care about me. You just wanted to prove you could get me to show for Christmas and you weren’t above using sex to do that—”

  “What? No, Hols. That’s not how it went down at all.” Sawyer’s voice was sharp. “I just meant that even if you can’t…be with me, I just don’t want you alone for the holidays. If we can’t be friends, Hols, at least let us be family.”

  “Family is the last thing I want right now,” I said sharply. “And I like being alone. You say you want to be with me, but all you really want to do is to change me into the guy you think I should have been all along.”

  “You’d be happier, that’s for sure,” Sawyer muttered. “And we wouldn’t have spent years in this stupid limbo.”

  “Allow me to cast you free, then.” I strode to the door, trying hard not to show how much his admission shook me. I’d had no idea—none—that he’d been as twisted up as me. I simply couldn’t process that thought and all it meant right then. “No more limbo. No more ambiguity. We simply wouldn’t work as a relationship. I can’t be what you need—what you deserve.” My voice broke on that last bit and I headed to the door before my emotions could betray me even more.

  I headed out of the apartment and down the steps, but a shoeless Sawyer headed after me. “Hols. Wait. Let’s talk some more—”

  “No, thank you.” My back muscles were so rigid from trying to keep my voice even that it was a wonder the drizzle coming down didn’t bounce off me.

  “At least let me drive you home.”

  “I need the walk.” I headed across the parking lot.

  “Hols.” Sawyer started after me, but he must have hit a puddle at the end of the stairs. “Fuck. Hell. It’s cold. Hollis.”

  I knew if I turned around, he’d see me cry, and I couldn’t do that. I hunkered down deep in my coat and started the long, cold, wet slog home.

  Chapter 13

  I made it home, wool coat soaked and me chilled through. I cranked the tub as hot as I could stand, started it filling while I stripped, and poured myself a Scotch to sip in the bath.

  I’ll scrub you all over. Sawyer’s sexy tease from earlier in the evening haunted me as I slid into the water. How had things gone so poorly so fast? The Scotch burned my throat as I took a thoughtful sip. Logic said that this was for the best—there never had been any future in this dalliance with Sawyer—but logic wasn’t what had my sinuses clogged at the thought of the sort of nightcap I was supposed to be having right then with Sawyer.

  Damn it. Just one more night…

  And didn’t I of all people know just how faulty that dinosaur prayer was? Just a little more time, Lord, just a little more time.

  More time with my parents.

  More time with Aria as a baby before she went and turned into a little person on us.

  More time with Sawyer and Tucker and Char as kids before things went and got all complicated.

  In my head Sawyer’s voice went from the squawky fifteen-year-old’s voice to the excited college guy drunk dialing me to the deep timbre of an adult.

  “So I kissed a guy, Hollis, and it was amazing…”

  “Char! Char! Hollis! It finally happened!”

  “I think Char likes Tucker. And not just as friends.”

  “Tucker’s going to pop the question this weekend. He talked to your dad and everything.”

  “Are you coming home for the wedding, Hollis? What time does your flight get in?”


  “So neither of us have dates this weekend. We should get drunk together.”

  “Dance with me. I dare you.”

  He’d said he’d changed, like I didn’t know that—I’d blinked and here we all were, staring down thirty, the kid who used to copy my chemistry notes because he’d been out late necking with Jimmy Ingles was in my bed and my life all twisted up. I knew he’d changed. I sipped deeply of the Scotch and it was my own voice that I heard next.

  “I think I might…like guys, Char. Don’t tell anyone.”

  “Char. Stop telling me about Sawyer’s sex life.”

  “Stay, Yuto. Don’t take the New York job. Stay while I finish school.”

  “What do you mean, we’re not a couple? Yuto, I don’t understand.”

  “Sure, Sawyer, you can pick me up for the wedding.”

  “I’ll take more champagne.”

  I wasn’t like Sawyer, who had plunged into his sexuality with both feet, embracing who he was loudly and openly. I didn’t do anything loudly. Never had. I was the one tentatively dipping my toes in the shallow end of the social pool while the three of them frolicked in the deep end. I was the weird one home ironing and reading Proust while Sawyer was doing God knew what with the Jimmy Ingleses of the world. I was the one who lived for Sawyer’s updates on his life, but who could never see a way to join that life—and I still couldn’t.

  Sawyer said I couldn’t see he’d changed, couldn’t trust that, and maybe he was right. But the problem was that I hadn’t changed—the world had changed around me, Sawyer was becoming a responsible adult, Tucker and Char becoming parents, but I was still who I’d always been, and who I’d always been wasn’t enough for Sawyer, no matter how much he’d changed, no matter if he wasn’t the same guy who flitted from interest to interest. I was still me. And damned if that didn’t hurt.

  * * * *

  I didn’t sleep much the next few days. I’d been ripped loose from an essential mooring in my life, similar to the way I’d felt after my parents died. And like then, I curled up on my couch to watch Lord of the Rings over and over in the dark hours of the night when sleep wouldn’t come. And every single time I teared up when Gandalf spoke of time and how fleeting and precious it is. And in The Fellowship of the Ring, Arwen’s impassioned plea to Aragorn made my chest feel flayed by feelings, and still I watched, both numb and drowning in feelings.