by Hannah Jayne
She was making too much of it.
It didn’t mean anything.
She would have to face him tomorrow.
Sawyer’s stomach lurched at the last thought, and her father’s smile slipped from his face. “Something wrong, muffin?”
Sawyer shook her head and cleared her throat. “No, no. It was just—just a long day today.” She snagged a piece of celery and nibbled it slowly. “So where is our little incubator, anyway?”
Andrew jutted his chin toward the French doors, where Tara, pregnant, pink-cheeked, and hands full of fresh-cut herbs, was walking in. Sawyer’s stepmom had clear, ice blue eyes rimmed with ultra-long doe lashes and a pixie-like nose that turned up at the rounded end. Her shoulder-length hair stood in a perfectly tousled golden halo that made Sawyer reach up and self-consciously smooth the knotted rope of her own hair, mousy, thin, a “before” picture brown.
“Hey, Tara.”
Tara’s lips broke into a face-brightening smile. “Sawyer! I’m so glad you’re home!” She crossed the kitchen with a waddling stride and dropped the herbs on Andrew’s cutting board. “Your dad and I want your input on girl names.” She rubbed her bulbous belly, still smiling. “My students have already been giving me their ideas.” Tara was a professor of environmental biology at Crescent City College.
“But their name list basically reads like the cast of one of those housewives shows,” Andrew broke in. “Is David really a girl’s name nowadays?”
Tara’s grin was still wide, unaffected. “Can you believe we’re going to have another girl in the house?”
A rush of something tore through Sawyer—annoyance, jealousy—she wasn’t sure what. She wanted to turn and run, to slam her brand-new bedroom door, and pull her covers up over her head. She knew she’d be comforted by the familiar industrial laundry soap smell; Sawyer did her own laundry with the same brand her mother had left behind, refusing to use Tara’s ultra-organic, made-from-sunshine-and-hippies crap. The clean chemical smell comforted and soothed her; curled up in her blankets with her eyes squeezed tightly shut, Sawyer could almost believe that her mother hadn’t left.
“I can’t wait to buy all those sweet little pink things.” Tara beamed.
Sawyer swallowed hard, trying to bite back the bitter taste of the words caught in her throat. She looked at Tara’s earnest face and her father’s lovestruck, adoring one; pressed her lips together into a flat but convincing smile; and nodded her head. “Sure. That would be fun.”
“Dinner will be ready in thirty,” Andrew said.
“You know, I’m not really that hungry.”
Tara’s face fell. “Isn’t today your long run day? You really need to eat, Sawyer.”
“Track practice was canceled because of the rain.” She pointed a thumb over her shoulder. “I think I’m just going to hop in the bath. I’ll come down and grab something later, okay?”
Tara opened her mouth to answer but closed it promptly. She nodded, a pasted smile that Sawyer had flashed all too often crossing her face.
FOUR
Sawyer did her best to scrub the memory of Mr. Hanson’s touch from her skin. She was pink and raw and strawberry scented, but somehow the imprint of his touch, the cloying scent of his musky aftershave still clung to her and made her shudder.
She slipped into her bathrobe and was elbow deep in a box marked “bathroom,” rifling through half-filled bottles of lotions and body splashes when she heard the first plink! Sawyer straightened immediately, her hands slipping from the lotion bottles. There was a beat of deafening silence before another plink! rattled her bedroom window. Sawyer pulled the window up, then ducked before being pelted with another handful of pebbles.
“Chloe? What are you doing?”
Chloe stood in the driveway, hands on hips, illuminated by the headlights from her mother’s car. “Finally!”
“Why didn’t you call me instead of throwing”—Sawyer picked a pink blob from the windowsill—“jelly beans at my window?”
Chloe’s exasperated sigh was loud enough to reach Sawyer’s second-story perch. “Because I was trying to be romantic.”
“Aw!”
“And your choice of habitat lacks essentials, like cellular service.” She wagged her phone.
“Sorry. I’ll be right down.”
Sawyer pulled open the front door, pinching the collar of her robe against the late autumn chill. “What are you doing here?”
Chloe grinned. “Rescuing you. Put some clothes on. We’re going out.”
Sawyer began to shake her head. “No, no, I’m in for the night. My dad and stepmom are already in bed.”
“All the better. There’s a party at Evan Rutger’s house and you’re going.”
“Definitely not in the party mood.”
Chloe cocked her head, hands on hips. “Didn’t your shrink say that you needed to get back into doing regular, teenager-y things? What’s more teenager-y than red party cups?”
“Somehow I don’t think Dr. Johnson was referencing underage drinking when he said I should engage in common teen activities.”
“You don’t think that’s what he meant. You don’t know for sure. Come on,” Chloe snapped Sawyer on the butt. “Upstairs. Get dressed.”
“Fine,” Sawyer said. “One hour.”
“Whatever. Just be my date so I don’t look like a loner.”
***
Cars, red party cups, and the errant student littered Evan Rutger’s family’s well-manicured lawn.
“Where are Evan’s parents?” Sawyer asked as Chloe nudged her car in between two others.
“Don’t know. I just heard they were gone.”
“Word travels fast around here.”
“You bet. Ready to party?”
Sawyer sighed. “Not really. Hey, Chloe—”
Chloe paused, her blue eyes catching the streetlight. “What?”
Sawyer thought about Mr. Hanson, thought about his hands trailing over her bare skin. A shiver rippled over her skin. “Never mind.” She linked arms with her best friend. “Let’s go get our party on.”
The din inside the Rutger house was deafening—a thudding bass combined with shrieking laughter and the general cacophony of students shouting over one another, over the cranked up stereo. A couple sped between Chloe and Sawyer—she was screaming and laughing; he was yanking at the bottom of her skirt. Someone shoved a cup into Sawyer’s hand and beer sloshed out of it, the cold liquid washing over Sawyer’s wrist and soaking the bottom of her jeans.
“Oh, I’m sorry.” Cooper’s eyes were wide and fixed on Sawyer’s dripping wrist.
Suddenly, Sawyer was happy to be there, happy to be a part of the throbbing mass of students swaying in the packed living room. She sucked some beer from her wrist and grinned at Cooper. “All better.”
“Well you’re a good sport, aren’t you?”
Sawyer sipped at her beer; once the icy liquid passed her lips, she tipped the cup and gulped the whole thing down.
“Rough day?” Cooper asked.
Sawyer held up her cup. “You don’t know the half of it. Do you know where this came from?”
Cooper took Sawyer’s empty cup in one hand and slid his other hand into hers. His touch sent something electric up Sawyer’s arm, and a warmth started low in her belly. She liked it.
Cooper and Sawyer looped through the crowd, coming to a stop at the edge of the kitchen, where a throng of students clogged the doorway. “Should be just a sec,” Cooper said over his shoulder. He didn’t let go of Sawyer’s hand, and she wasn’t sure she wanted him to.
“Here you go.” Cooper handed her a full cup.
“And I thought you didn’t want to party!” Chloe appeared in front of Sawyer, clinking her plastic cup. She had one arm slung around the neck of a guy Sawyer recognized from her Spanish class.
�
�Hey, Ryan,” she said quickly. And then, to Chloe, “How much have you had? We’ve only been here like five minutes.”
Chloe cocked her head, a lock of blond hair falling across her collarbone. “I’ve had enough to make him interesting.” She grinned, nuzzling the ear of the guy who was all but holding her up, sipping from his own red party cup. “Hey,” she untangled herself and leaned into Sawyer, grabbing both her wrists. “We should dance.”
Sawyer swayed with Chloe. “You’re so drunk.”
Chloe giggled. “I’m not; it’s just more fun this way. What’s going on with you and Cooper?”
Sawyer looked over her shoulder to where Cooper was leaning in the doorway, a slight grin on his face as he eyed her. “I don’t know. Nothing. He’s really nice, though.”
“I think he loves you.”
“Shut up.” Even as she protested, a delighted spark raced through her. “You think?”
Chloe held Sawyer at arm’s length. “You are interested!”
Sawyer felt herself flush. “I’m not ready to date. But it’s nice to have someone interested. Hey, song’s over.”
“Next time let me lead. Boyfriend’s watching you.” Chloe spun Sawyer and gave her a playful spank on the rump. “Go get ’em, tiger.”
“You’re quite the dancer,” Cooper said with a grin. He looped an arm around Sawyer’s waist and pulled her close to him, just as a couple of partygoers bumped into her on their way to the kitchen. “Do you want to go somewhere we can talk? Or at least not get mashed into?”
Sawyer looked over her shoulder at the crowd of students oblivious to her and Cooper. She glanced at the backyard behind him, pale white icicle lights dancing over the rippling water in the pool, the patio area relatively empty. “Yeah, okay. Let’s go out there.”
Cooper laced his fingers with Sawyer’s and led her through the sliding glass door out to the Rutger’s backyard. A few students hung back in the shadows, making out or smoking.
“Wow.” Maggie turned out of the shadows, her scowl apparent in the dim light. Her eyes raked over Sawyer, flicked over her hand linked with Cooper’s. “Didn’t take you long to bounce back.”
Sawyer swallowed heavily, shame welling up.
“We’re just friends,” Cooper said, his drawl light and sweet. He squeezed Sawyer’s hand and held it up. “The place is packed. I just didn’t want to lose her.”
The titillating warmth from Cooper’s hand shot through Sawyer, squashing down the shame she felt at connecting with another boy.
“Whatever,” Maggie said with a violent flick of her hair. “Kevin deserved so much better.” She huffed past Sawyer, digging a bony elbow into her ribcage as she did.
“Well, that girl is just a regular breath of vile air.”
Sawyer smiled thinly. “We used to be friends.”
Cooper looked toward Maggie and then to Sawyer, incredulous. He wagged his head. “No, I don’t believe someone like you could be friends with someone like Maggie.”
Sawyer’s skin pricked. “Someone like me?”
Cooper looked down at his hands. “You know, nice. Sweet. Cute.”
Sawyer looked away, her smile marred by shadows.
“And this Kevin guy was your boyfriend?”
Sawyer blinked at Cooper. “You don’t know?”
“Know what?”
“Kevin Anderson. He was my boyfriend.”
“The name sounds familiar but…” Cooper shook his head, a blank expression flicking through his hazel eyes.
“He died.” Sawyer forced the words out, feeling her whole body stiffen with the memory as she did.
“Anderson…” Cooper’s eyes went up as he thought. “Wasn’t he the kid in the drunk driving accident?”
Sawyer felt heat at the back of her neck, felt her palms start to itch with sweat. “Yeah.”
“Oh.” Cooper’s eyes were wide. “I’m really sorry. I didn’t know. Are you okay?”
Sawyer felt as if she had been struck dumb. She had been asked the question so many times, day after day since the accident—“Are you okay?” “Are you okay?”—but hearing the same string of words come out of Cooper’s mouth, with his eyes so sympathetic and so wonderfully real, dug at her heart.
“It’s hard,” she heard herself murmur. “It’s been hard.”
Cooper led Sawyer to an ivy-covered arc at the side of the house, and she sunk down onto a cement bench. He let go of her hand. “I didn’t mean to bring it up.”
Sawyer shook her head, feeling her dark hair circle her cheeks. “No, it’s fine. I’m sorry.” She realized she was crying and wiped her tears on her sleeve. “Not exactly the best partygoer, am I?”
Cooper sat down next to Sawyer, his shoulder and thigh touching hers. She waited for the searing heat of guilt, for her body to involuntarily cringe as their skin brushed. Since Kevin’s death she had been overcome with shame, with guilt, with the inane sense that at any moment she was going to be accused of doing something wrong, something awful—something for which she would have to atone. Toward the end, she was always on edge, studying Kevin’s eyes, watching the twist of his mouth. His anger was unpredictable, his emotion erratic, and without knowing it, Sawyer had come to base her every movement on what might happen. So when her body didn’t react, when she was overcome with comfort as Cooper’s skin touched hers, it was overwhelming and she pulled away anyway, rubbing her palms against her thighs as though she were chilled.
Cooper seemed not to mind. “I think you make a pretty nice date,” he said, his eyes on his lap.
Sawyer smiled.
“If you ever want to talk about it, I kind of know how it feels.” Cooper clasped his hands and kicked at the dirt with one sneakered foot. “We moved here because my dad’s family is here.” Sawyer watched a muscle flick along Cooper’s strong jawline. “My mom died twelve weeks ago.”
“Oh my God.”
“Cancer. It happened really fast.”
“I can’t imagine…But I know. One minute they’re there—”
“And the next they’re gone.”
When Cooper turned his face toward Sawyer, his eyes were glossy, the golden flecks catching in what remained of the backyard twinkle lights. Sawyer felt herself drawn to him, a powerful force between them, and before she could consider the implication, the ramifications, she was kissing him. Her lips were pressed hard against his, and she tasted the bitter remnants of beer and then the sweet taste of Cooper as he opened his mouth, their tongues finding each other. Memories crashed over Sawyer like so many waves, breaking like shards of glass at her feet. She felt ashamed, alive, and free as Cooper’s arms slipped around her waist, pulling her close to him. His touch was soft but strong, and Sawyer loved the way he held her, making her feel safe and wanted at the same time. Cooper’s fingers found her hair and tangled themselves in it; she pressed her palms against his strong back, feeling the muscles tense underneath his thin T-shirt. Her heart thumped against his and she kissed him harder, desperate to pull him closer, to pull him into her, to block out the memories of Kevin, of the note, of everything.
A shriek cut through the night, cut through the heat, and Cooper and Sawyer were thrown apart.
“What was that?” Cooper panted.
The shriek sounded again—high pitched, anguished.
“It’s a girl.”
“It’s Chloe.” Sawyer was on her feet, the delicious beat of her heart speeding up to a painful, nervous patter. “Where is she?”
Sawyer was pawing through people in the backyard now, Cooper close behind her. “Chloe!” But her voice was lost in the din, swallowed by the beat of the pulsing bass.
“I think she’s in here,” Cooper said, grabbing Sawyer’s hand and leading her toward the house.
“Oh my God.” Sawyer stopped cold in the doorway, dropping Cooper’s hand and bracing herself against the d
oorframe. “Chloe.”
The party dropped off into a shocked silence as everyone turned to gape at Chloe.
Ryan was standing at her side again, but this time he appeared to be holding her up. Chloe’s head was bent, her hands pressed to her face. Sawyer could see the blood as it oozed through her best friend’s fingers. She felt herself vaulting across the room.
“What happened?”
Chloe was crying, her small shoulders quaking with the effort. “Someone, someone—”
“Someone attacked her,” Ryan finished.
“Oh my God, Chloe! Are you okay? Who was it?”
“I’m okay.” Chloe nodded, pulling her hands away from her face. There was a severe gash over her left eye. The blood had already started to congeal over the jagged, puckering skin. Sawyer rushed forward, throwing her arms around her in a quick embrace.
“Who did this to you?”
Chloe wagged her head. “I don’t know. I went out to my car to get a sweatshirt, and someone was out there with the hood open.”
“The hood of the car?” Cooper asked.
Ryan nodded. “It was still popped when I got out there. I heard her screaming and came running.”
“I told the guy to knock it off, you know, leave my car alone, and when he heard me, he turned around and swung.” Chloe’s trembling fingers gingerly touched the blood over her eye. “I don’t even know what he hit me with.”
“And you didn’t see who it was?”
Chloe shook her head. “No. He hit me and took off running, I guess. I barely even remember that. I felt it, then I know I was falling, and then Ryan was standing over me.”
Cooper looked over Ryan’s shoulder out the open door. “You think he’s still out there?”
“Let’s go, man.”
Sawyer reached for Cooper but caught only the tail of his shirt as it sailed past her.
“If he’s still out there, they could get hurt,” Chloe said, enormous tears rollicking over her cheeks.
Sawyer nodded and took the washcloth someone handed her. She pressed it against Chloe’s forehead and guided Chloe to the couch. “I’m going to go see.” She tucked her hand in her pocket, protectively cupping her cell phone. If I don’t see the guys this millisecond, she reasoned, I’m calling 911.