Wyatt starts laughing. “Stepsiblings. Hell, in my day, cousins were still gettin’ married. I’ll never forget the day my granddaddy sat me down and gave me a piece of advice. He said, ‘Wyatt, my boy. I gotta tell you somethin’, and you better always remember this. Now listen closely. First cousins are for practice. Now second cousins, those are for marryin,’” he deadpans, and I have no idea if he’s serious or not. I must have a strange look on my face, because seconds later he’s slapping his knee. “Damn, girl, you’re way too easy! That was a joke. But seriously, the whole stepsiblings thing? No big deal.”
Standing up, I know I need to hit the road. I have to stop back at the house and pray to God that no one is there. I left my road trip plans there, and I need to do one last walk through the house to make sure I have everything. I need to get it all done before Sawyer realizes I’m gone.
“It’s so much more complicated than that, Wyatt.”
“It doesn’t have to be,” he says, and I wish it were true.
“Don’t tell him, okay? Let him discover the letter on his own, please?” I beg, feeling guilty for putting him in this position. He nods, and I feel grateful. “Thanks, Wyatt. I’m going to miss you.”
“I’ll miss you, too, girlie. Don’t be a stranger, okay?”
I promise that I won’t, but we both know it’s one promise I won’t be able to keep.
Sawyer
I’ve been anxious as hell to get this work day over with. When Cheyenne left this morning, things still felt off, even if she did tell me she loved me. I’m ready to start making my plans for Berkeley, especially if I’m not going to have Dad’s backing. Maybe Wyatt can give me a loan until I’m twenty-five and can pay him back with interest. When I finally finish repairing the fence, I’m starving, but I’m more interested in heading to the lake to see if Cheyenne’s there. She’s not, much to my disappointment.
Wyatt has lunch ready when I get back to the house. He sets down a cold cut sandwich in front of me, along with a glass of lemonade. I’m parched. I grab the glass and down it in two long gulps. A burning sensation fills my chest.
“Dammit, Wyatt! Why the hell are you giving me this crap in the middle of the day? You’re going to dehydrate me.”
“You’re gonna need it. Consider yourself off for the rest of the day. Clean your room or somethin’” he says. He gives me a pitying look before he throws on a cowboy hat and walks outside.
I’m confused as hell, seeing as how Wyatt’s never given me an afternoon off, and I know for a fact that my room is spotless. Heading back to my room to change so I can go find Cheyenne, I look around, wondering what the hell Wyatt was talking about. My eyes fall on the folded white sheet of paper sitting on my bed. The word Sawyer on the front fills me with a sense of dread. Snatching up the piece of paper, I slowly fall down onto my bed as I read the words I never expected to come.
Sawyer,
By the time you read this, I’ll be on the road, who knows where. I can only imagine what you’re thinking, and first things first, please don’t follow me. This is hard enough to write down, but to see you and say these things to your face might break me more than I’m already breaking right now.
At the beginning of the summer, I couldn’t wait to get out of this town. Now that the time has come, I’m dreading it. You swooped into my life and taught me how to live, how to love, how to be loved. I’ll never forget a single moment that we spent together. I’ll cherish the memories forever, and I’ll think of you every single day that we’re not together.
As much as it crushes me, I have to leave. I have to let you go, and you have to do the same. It’s going to hurt, and it probably will for a long time. This is the hardest thing I’ve ever had to do, walking away from you, but I have to. I can’t let you give up your life for me. I love you, and I love that you would do that for me. That alone proves how much I mean to you. And that alone is why I have to make this decision for us. It's why I have to go.
Go to Auburn, Sawyer. Drop your economics major. If you want to study accounting, do it. If you want to study marketing, do that, too. You are capable of great things, Sawyer Callahan, and if you follow me, I’ll only hold you back, the same thing that your father’s been doing.
The last time I had to say goodbye to someone I loved, these were the last words I heard. And I want you to know that I mean them for you, for us, too.
“One swallow takes you from me, and two will bring you back. As long as you have the swallow, forever we won’t lack. And in the spring, when the swallows appear, I’ll always know that you are near.”
Maybe one day we’ll find each other again. In fact, I pray that we do. Before you, I’d given up on swallows. When my Daddy didn't come home, I decided it was just a stupid myth. But then I met you. You gave that belief back to me, and I’ll hold on to the hope that you’re my swallow and that I’m yours.
I love you, Sawyer Callahan. Spread your wings and fly. Become the man you want to be, the man I know you can be. I’ll look for you every spring, and maybe, just maybe, life will bring you back to me.
Love,
Your Pretty Girl
I have to read the contents of the letter three times before it finally sinks in. I was right last night. She was saying goodbye to me, even if she didn’t know it at the time. Grabbing my keys, I rush outside to my truck, hoping beyond hope that maybe I can still catch her at the house. My heart falls when I pull up to the house and see that the driveway is empty. There’s a for-sale sign in the yard, and I can’t believe how little time Sylvia’s wasted.
The front is locked, so I go around to Cheyenne’s window, thankful that it’s open. Climbing through, I realize I am way too late when I see her room almost empty. The only thing left is her vanity, an overturned jewelry box on the floor, and a couple of pieces of furniture that she hadn’t planned on taking anyway. I check her closet—empty. Her dresser—empty. The sheets have been stripped from bed.
Getting down on the ground, I check under the bed. I see nothing, and I’m about to get up when my eyes spot something against the wall. Lying down flat, I stretch my arm out, barely grabbing the object. When I sit up and look at it, I realize it’s her father’s wedding band, and I remember not seeing her wearing it last night. Why would she leave his behind?
Suddenly, I hear voices, and I stand up quickly, making sure to pocket the ring.
“Sawyer, what’re you doing here?” Sylvia stands in the doorway, frowning at me.
“I came to see Cheyenne before she left. I guess I was too late.”
“Oh, you know how girls can be. So flighty, just like her father,” she says, waving it off like her only child hasn’t just started a two-thousand-mile journey across country. “Come on. We’ve just brought back lunch.”
I follow her out towards the kitchen. My dad stops when he spots me, and I notice that he doesn’t make eye contact.
“Thanks, but I’m not hungry. I’ll finish out the summer with Wyatt and be by the house to pick up my things for school. You both enjoy the rest of your time here.”
“Sawyer, stop—” my dad starts, but I cut him off.
“No. You did this. I don’t know how, when, or what you said, but you drove her away, and I will never forgive you for that.”
I walk out of the house, the door slamming shut behind me, just like the door on my heart.
When I get back to the farm, Wyatt’s waiting on the front porch with an ice-cold jug. He pours a glass for me, and I down it, holding it out for a refill.
“That bad, boy?” he asks.
“Yeah, you could say that,” I answer gruffly, not exactly wanting to talk about it.
“That girl loves you. You’re both young. Trust that it’ll work out, but for now, you gotta let her go,” he tells me.
“How? How in the hell am I supposed to let the girl I love just walk away? How am I supposed to turn my back on her when she needs me the most? She has no one, Wyatt. How do I just let the love of my life leave without fighting for
her?”
He sets his glass down and leans forward, propping his elbows on his knees. “You love her?”
“You know I do.”
“She wants you to let her go?”
“Yeah, but she—”
He cuts me off before I can continue. “If you love her, then you need to love her enough to respect her wishes. Cheyenne’s not the type of girl to play games. She isn’t going to tell you to walk away but still expect you to follow her. If she wants you to move on, to live your life? Then the best way to do that is honor her request. Whether she knows it or not, her home’s still here in Shiloh Grove. With you. You just have to have faith that she’ll realize that.”
“When the hell did you become such a relationship expert?”
He smiles, but it’s a sad smile. “Just trust me, Sawyer. It’s a long story, but let’s just say I wish I’d had an old fool to give me advice when I was your age.”
“So I’m supposed to just sit here while she moves to California? Not even try to contact her?”
“Now I didn’t say that. Give her some time. You kids have cell phones, the internet. In a month or so, I don’t see anything wrong with dropping a line, at least to see how she’s doing.”
I mull his advice over, and I know this is going to be the hardest month of my life. I can’t sit still any longer, at least not here. I grab my glass and refill it before I bound down the steps.
“Where you goin’?” he asks, and I turn to look at him.
“Home.”
By the time I make it to the lake, I’m wishing I’d brought more alcohol. I sit down against my favorite tree, my mind reeling over the last hour. Pulling the letter out of my pocket, I reread it. The sound of a bird whistling echoes in my ear, and I look up to see a single bird sitting on the edge of the dock. It looks vaguely familiar, and the moment it snaps in my head, I stand up, moving towards it. It’s the same shape of the birds Cheyenne’s always drawing.
I pull my phone out of my back pocket and type ‘swallow’ into the search engine. Clicking on the images tab, I realize that this is the bird. Our bird. My single swallow, alone, just like me. Just like Cheyenne. Her poem replays over in my mind, and with a renewed hope, I send the bird a silent plea, praying that she’s right. That one day, he’ll bring her home to me—for good.
April 2014
Sawyer
By the time we make it to Shiloh Grove, I think we’re both exhausted from the events of the night and the revelations we’ve both made. I don’t think Cheyenne expected me to interject with my memories from that night, but I could see the guilt on her face. I couldn’t let her relive it without doing the same thing myself. In the end, I realized that I pretty much had guessed everything that happened, aside from her mother’s comments.
Once I told her about seeing the same swallow, she got quiet and started looking out the window. She hasn’t spoken in a few minutes, and suddenly I’m at the fork in the road that will either lead to Wyatt’s or the lake. At the last second, I decide to go to the lake. She turns to look at me and greets me with a sweet smile, indicating that I’ve made the right choice.
“It’s late, and I don’t want to risk waking the old man,” I tell her as I park my car. It feels weird being with her here in my car and not the rusty old truck, but at the same time, it feels so right.
I’m about to get out of the car when her hand touches my arm. Turning to look at her, I can see her looking at me with a soft smile. “This is perfect, Sawyer. When you said we were going home, this is exactly where I hoped you meant.”
Leaning in, I press a slow, lingering kiss on her lips, more than grateful that I’m getting this second chance with her. I pull away, knowing that if I get much closer to her I’m not going to be able to resist ripping her dress off, and I don’t want to do that here in the car.
By the time I get out of the car, she’s already on the dock, looking out on the water. I see her shiver, so I wrap my arms around her, pulling her into a tight embrace.
“Cold?”
“Maybe just a little,” she says, turning around in my arms. “You know, you still owe me a dance.”
“Heaven forbid I keep my lady waiting,” I tell her, taking my phone out of my pocket. I scroll through my latest playlist and hit play before sliding my hands down her back, pulling her waist to me.
Brantley Gilbert’s Fall Into Me begins to fill the air. Cheyenne’s head rests against my chest and we sway back and forth in the moonlight, simply enjoying the feel of each other. I hope she knows I picked this song perfectly, meaning every single word just for her. We dance in silence, listening to the words of the song, the splash of the water against the shore, the chirping of the crickets. It’s all so surreal. It’s one thing having Cheyenne by my side in Atlanta, but being back in Shiloh Grove? It’s more than I could ever imagined. And suddenly Wyatt’s words replay in my mind. This is her home.
At the time I didn’t realize that it’s also mine. And I don’t mean the lake. I mean her. She’s my home. That summer, she let me in and I’ve never left. I’ve never been able to, and I know I never will.
When the song ends, she pulls back from me, her eyes shining in the moonlight.
“I’m so sorry, Sawyer. I wasted all these years when I should’ve trusted you to make your own decisions. I took your choice away from you, and I was so wrong.”
I lean down and press a soft kiss on her forehead. “Don’t be sorry, Cheyenne. We were kids. Who knows if things would’ve worked out back then? We had so many outside forces against us that you did what you had to do, what you thought was best. And as much as twenty-year-old me hates to say it, you were probably right. Look at us now. We’re both successful, happy, and we’re here now. That’s all that matters. Deep down, you had faith. In me. In us. In those damn birds. And well, I guess it turns out that you were right. After all, it is spring, pretty girl, and there are two creepy birds watching us from the edge of the dock.”
She spins around, anxious to see what I’m looking at. I watch the side of her face and can see her eyes squint, trying to see them in the moonlight. Out of nowhere, one of them quacks, the sound echoing in the darkness.
“Sawyer, those are ducks!” she exclaims, hitting me in the chest.
“Hey, it was worth a try,” I tell her, grinning down at her. “It doesn’t matter what kind of birds they are. All that matters is that we’re here now, together, and nothing can get in our way again. “
She slips her hands around my waist and looks up at me. “Never again, city boy. Life brought us back together, and I’ll never let anything tear us apart again. Now can you please take me to the boathouse and finally have your way with me?”
She doesn’t have to ask me twice. Scooping her up in my arms, I walk off the dock and around the lake, carrying her into the boathouse before setting her on her feet at the foot of the bed.
“If I remember correctly, you told me you had a gift for me,” I whisper, my hands sliding down her back, stopping at the zipper.
“Sawyer Callahan, it seems like all you do is unwrap my gifts in this room,” she teases, winking at me. The memory of taking her for the first time crosses my mind, and I groan as my dick strains against my pants.
I slowly push her zipper down and the fabric slides down her body, pooling around her feet. She’s standing before me in a black strapless bra, sexy boyshort panties, and a set of the sexiest garters and stockings I’ve ever seen. The black heels on her feet perfect the look, and it’s all I can do not to devour her right now.
Her hands come up to my jacket and she pushes it off my shoulders. Shrugging out of it, I throw it on a chair against the wall. I slip out of my shoes as she pulls the shirt out of my pants. I stand still as she unbuttons it and then slowly takes it off of me. I’m left in my undershirt and my tuxedo pants. She works the buckle, undoing it, then makes quick work of the button and the zipper. My pants fall to the ground and I step out of them.
She steps back, surveying me. I’m standi
ng in nothing but tight black boxer briefs and my undershirt. My eyes sweep over her standing there, looking sexy as hell in her lingerie and heels. I pull my shirt off, more than ready to be with her again. Her eyes widen when she takes in the sight of my chest, and my ego swells, knowing that she likes what she sees.
Her hand comes up to cover her mouth and she moves backwards until her legs hit the bed, causing her to sit down. I’m confused at her reaction. I’m not any hairier than I used to be, and while I might not have farm-quality muscles, I still work out.
It isn’t until she points at my chest that I realize what she’s freaking out over. “What…what is that, Sawyer?”
Looking down, I realize that she’s pointing at my tattoo. Before I can answer, she stands up and walks towards me. Her hand comes up and her fingers trace the outline of the swallow tattoo that’s resting over my heart.
“What is this?” she repeats in a whisper.
I grab ahold of her fingers and bring them up to my lips, kissing the tips. “That, pretty girl, is you.”
A soft whimper escapes her lips at my words. My hands come up and unclasp her bra, and I pull the material away from her. As I pull her in, our chests connect, my tattoo on her skin.
“It’s you, baby. It’s always been you.”
I walk her back towards the bed and lay her down gently. I undo each garter and slowly pull her stocking down to her feet, where I free her of her heels. She’s on the bed in nothing but a tiny pair of panties, and I love the sight of her squirming. My fingers hook around them and I pull them off of her in one swift move. Standing up, I slide my boxers down and grab my wallet to take out a condom, which I go ahead and slide onto my already hard cock.
Hovering over her, I stare down into her eyes, trying to commit this moment to memory, telling myself that this is real, that she’s really here. Her hand runs up my chest and rests on my tattoo.
“I’m your swallow,” she says quietly, almost non-believing.
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