Half-Truths

by Randileigh Kennedy

  I felt his lips curl into a smile against mine. “What are you smiling about?” I asked quietly, moving back from his face to gauge his expression.

  “What is there not to smile about right now? Look at this place.” He motioned around us. “And you . . . I know I should feel guilty for playing hooky from my responsibilities today, but I wouldn’t change a thing.”

  “Me too.” I blushed. “This is nice.”

  He brushed a piece of hair back from my face. “So tell me everything I need to know about you in sixty seconds or less,” he said playfully, pulling me farther out into a deeper part of the swimming hole. “Likes, dislikes, greatest fears. This is a place for secrets.”

  “Sixty seconds?” I laughed. “That doesn’t leave much room for fluff. Let’s see, just the important stuff: I like writing and music, obviously. But I guess you already know that. I like the sound crickets make at night when there’s no other noise. I like stargazing, which sounds cheesy, but it makes me think of my dad. We used to do that all the time. I also like lazy weekends, binge watching whatever TV series I’m behind on. And cheap booze in parks with strange men.”

  “Men, as in plural? Like, you do that often?” he razzed.

  “Not exactly,” I replied coyly. “That one just made the list recently.” He smiled as I said it. “Dislikes, let’s see. I’m not a fan of snakes. Watching tennis is dreadful. Hairless cats, sensible shoes, paying bills, poorly placed tattoos, my mother’s life advice . . . Those are the basic things I loathe the most.”

  “What about your fears? My grandfather always told me you could learn a lot about someone just by knowing what they’re scared of.”

  “I’m not scared of all the usual stuff—bats, heights, bugs, that kind of thing. I grew up outdoors with a gross, worm-squishing brother no less. None of those things bothers me.”

  “Really?” he asked with a disbelieving tone. “So you would jump off that rock right there?” he questioned, motioning to a giant rock jutting out of the mountainside about thirty feet up.

  “As long as the water’s deep enough, sure,” I replied. “I’ve done that plenty of times with my best friend, Brie. Maybe not quite that high up, but pretty close. She’s as adventurous as they come. We do crazy stuff like that all the time.”

  “So nothing? You’re really not afraid of anything?”

  “Mediocrity maybe,” I said quietly.

  Sawyer brought his hand to my face, gently touching my cheek. “You are far from mediocre,” he said sincerely, not breaking his stare on me.

  “Your turn,” I deflected, changing the subject. “Would you jump off that rock if I dared you?”

  “Only if you dared me, just so I wouldn’t look like a wuss, but for no other reason.” He laughed. “Actually I’ll make you a deal. If you come back here with me someday, I promise I’ll do it. I’m not big on heights. I can’t imagine doing that willingly other than to impress you. But I swear I will, should we ever make it back to this spot.”

  “I’ll keep that in mind,” I teased. “What else should I know about you?”

  “Likes . . . Let’s see, definitely canoeing,” he began.

  “Are you an eighty-year-old man?” I joked. “Who says ‘canoeing’ is one of the most definitive things about themselves? Don’t tell me you read the newspaper every morning too.”

  “What’s wrong with reading the paper? I told you, that’s where I saw your picture. I read it every day. There’s a lot of good information in there,” he said with a playful defensiveness.

  “Oh, my goodness, you are the one singlehandedly keeping print journalism in business,” I continued. “If you wear socks with your sandals too, I’m out of here. What about bird watching? Does that make the list?”

  “So I’m a little old school. What can I say?” Sawyer replied lightheartedly. “I also prefer an actual book in my hands compared to reading a screen. If real books ever disappear, I wouldn’t want to live in such a world.”

  “I feel like you just stepped out of a time capsule,” I razzed. “Anything you love from this decade?”

  “Netflix.” He shrugged.

  “Now you’re speaking my language.” I smiled at him.

  “Porch swings. Vegetables straight from a garden. Sleeping outside—that’s probably one of my favorite things.”

  “Camping?”

  “No, I mean just outside. No tent or camper. Just me and God’s earth,” he explained. “I find more solitude in that than any other thing. Just lying under the stars.”

  “You do that in downtown Nashville?” I giggled. “And you’ve never been hit by a bus?”

  He shook his head. “That’s why I hate living in an apartment in the city. There’s no sense of calm. It’s all noise and chaos. On the weekends I head to my grandparents’ place. There’s this dock over their pond. I throw down a few old blankets and just stare out at the sky. Life isn’t so crazy out there. Just nighttime noises and my thoughts.”

  “What do you think about while you’re out there?”

  “A lot about my grandparents,” he said nostalgically. “Maybe that’s why I’m an old soul. I was raised by seventy-five-year-olds.” He laughed. “I miss them. Then I find myself wondering if I’m doing everything right, you know? Busting my ass to hurry through school quickly so I can get right to work for the next forty-five years. But out there on that dock, it all makes more sense to me—working hard now just so I can stop to breathe whenever I want. I want to work hard when I’m in the ‘zone,’ so to speak, so that I can enjoy the world when I’m not. So I can just sit out in a canoe, enjoying the silence.”

  “That’s why I love Tahoe so much,” I interjected, understanding what he was saying. “There are people everywhere, noise, busyness, but within ten minutes you can find a perfectly unspoiled spot like this. It pulls you away from the chaos and gives it all purpose.”

  “I want to take you there,” he said softly.

  “Where?”

  “To my grandparents’ cabin,” he replied. “Will you go with me when we’re back in Nashville?”

  “I don’t even know when I’m going back,” I answered honestly. My mind was finally focused on the real reason I was home. “I may be here for a while. With my dad and everything going on . . . It’s not looking good. I don’t know what that means for me. Honestly I don’t have much to go back to.”

  He stayed quiet, studying my face as I spoke. My voice became emotional at the mere mention of my father. It was weighing hard on me, despite trying so hard to distract myself from it.

  “When are you going back?” I asked quietly. I badly hoped his time was equally infinite, though I knew that was impossible.

  “My return ticket is for Saturday evening, once the conference is over.”

  Four more days. That was it. I don’t know why it caught me off guard, but it did. It’s not like I expected this to go anywhere. We’d just met. He was still practically a stranger. Yet I felt vulnerable around him. Exposed. Honest. Maybe it was the way he’d entered my life at my weakest moment. Maybe it was the way he made me laugh all the time, as if my world wasn’t crumbling. But talks about future plans at this point seemed futile with all the uncertainty around me. What was I even doing here?

  I knew one thing: in the midst of losing someone important to me, I was not prepared to become close with anyone else I could lose. I didn’t have it in me. Not now. Future plans just seemed like future heartache. If I learned one thing from Wes and “Kip,” I had a way of losing, and it hurt so bad each time.

  In that moment I realized Sawyer Grant was not worth losing.

  Which is why I decided now was the time to walk away.

  Chapter 8

  “Why are you getting out of the water?” he questioned as I maneuvered toward the rocky edge of the shore where we had set our clothes down. “Do you want to go somewhere else?”

  “Maybe I should get back to the hospital.” I shrugged. “I probably should’ve stayed there today.”

 
; “I thought your dad had diagnostics all day,” he quipped.

  “Yeah, well, maybe I shouldn’t have pulled you away from your seminars,” I replied. “I know this is fun and all, but doesn’t this seem a little careless to you? Shrugging off everything important for a swimming hole, making future plans . . .”

  “Whitley, what’s going on?” He raised a brow at me, no doubt waiting for an honest response.

  “I just . . . What am I doing? What are we doing?”

  “Getting to know each other. Hanging out. I don’t know,” he replied, sounding confused. “Is this about me reading newspapers? I swear I don’t do the crossword puzzles or anything,” he added, trying to lighten the mood. “I’m just trying to take your mind off everything. I know what it’s like to lose someone important to you, Whit. Trust me. And having a friend to talk about it with, or sometimes not talk about it with, depending on what you want—that doesn’t fix it or make it go away. I know that. But it helps. I’m just trying to help you. I’ve been you.”

  “Well, I don’t know how to do this,” I stated, full of emotion. “I don’t know how to be me and feel like an empty pit at the same time. I’m supposed to be fun, and adventurous, and witty, and adorable, and making plans to hang out at your cabin sometime . . . But honestly I feel like I’m falling apart. Like I’m just seconds away from crashing. I can’t even think about plans next week when I’m struggling to face what may happen six hours from now.” Tears crept from my eyes, and I quickly brushed them away, determined not to let him see me cry again. “I’m an emotional mess. I have this guilt for not sitting around sulking every second of the day. Instead I’m out gallivanting in the sunshine with a hot guy who’s charming and funny, but somehow I’m still breaking. I just . . .” I sat in the rocky sand near the edge of the pool, the lower half of my body still submerged in the water.

  “So break.” He shrugged, swimming toward me. He sat next to me, the side of his leg pressed up against mine. “You don’t have to be anything else. You don’t have to pretend everything’s okay when it’s not. You don’t have to act put together, not for me. I see you, Whit. You love your family. You’re passionate about what matters to you. You’re feisty and obviously strong-willed. Just because you’re breaking doesn’t make you any less of those things. So break. I’m here.”

  Unrelenting sobs poured out. I put my head in my hands and felt two strong arms wrap around me, holding me close against his warm chest.

  ***

  My phone chimed for the third time in a row, distracting me from my tears. Sawyer loosened his embrace around me and gently wiped my face.

  “Sorry,” I said quietly, trying to pull myself together. “I think you’re right. It felt kind of good to let all of that out.”

  “I meant what I said. I’m here,” he repeated sincerely. “I’ve been through my share of heartbreak. It consumes you, and that’s all you can feel sometimes. I know what it’s like. Go answer that.”

  I stood up and rummaged through my dress pocket for my cell phone. I had a pit in my stomach and hoped it wasn’t news from the hospital. It seemed too early for that. Instead it was a series of texts from Brie. She had ditched out on the rest of her workday and was begging to pick me up for an afternoon adventure. I smiled as I read her messages. She always had a way of lifting my mood. Maybe that’s why I was so drawn to Sawyer—he was similar to Brie in that way. As much as I wanted to walk away now before getting hurt, it was clear to me that he was actually lessening the hurt I already carried. That mattered. He was like a drug, easing the pain. Maybe he couldn’t erase it completely, but he definitely made it hurt less. It was hard not to be pulled in by that.

  “Want to go somewhere with me?” I grinned, turning my attention back on the mass of muscle pulling himself out of the water. I realized in that moment that the T-shirt I was wearing was completely suctioned to my skin. I was pretty sure even though the fabric was dark, it didn’t leave a lot to the imagination. I tugged at the material, pulling it away from my body.

  “That shirt looks good on you.” He beamed, obviously noticing what I hoped he hadn’t. “I will do anything you tell me. I swear I would jump off that rock right now if you asked me to.”

  “Good.” I giggled. “Because it’s something along those lines.”

  “Shit,” he murmured.

  Like a gentleman, he turned around while I took off his soaking wet T-shirt. I slid on my dry bra and cotton sundress and awkwardly slid off my wet underwear. I discreetly tucked it into the shirt I was holding, hoping he wouldn’t notice. Looked like I would be going commando until we got to Brie’s. Of course he had to do the same. I tried not to look, but I did catch a small glimpse of him pulling up his dress pants over his bare skin. His legs were toned and muscular as the gray pants slid over them, and I had to admit I was intrigued by him. He turned back to face me, completely shirtless.

  Something about a guy standing in the sand in nothing more than business pants, his hand running through his wet hair—I finally realized why fashion magazines portrayed men this way. When I saw similar scenes in pictures, I always thought it looked ridiculous. Why would a handsome guy be standing in sand partially clothed in work pants? But now, staring at that exact image right in front of me, I knew I’d never seen anything sexier.

  “This is going to be a weird hike.” He laughed, slipping on his nice black shoes despite the sand covering his feet. “Tie this around your waist,” he directed, holding his dress shirt toward me. I wrapped it around my waist and tied it in a knot, though I wasn’t sure why. “You’re carrying the goods.” He tossed his socks and soaked boxer briefs at me, and I added them to my pile of wet clothes.

  “How noble, making the girl carry all the baggage up the mountain,” I razzed.

  “Yep, that’s what I’m about,” he replied with a sly smile. “That way I can carry the girl.” In one quick motion he knelt in front of me and I wrapped my arms around his shoulders, despite my tight grip on our wet undergarments. He lifted me, and before I knew it, I was being carried up the hillside on piggyback. “Aren’t you glad you tied that shirt around your waist now?” He smiled, obviously very aware that I had no underwear on. I appreciated his gesture of making sure I felt comfortable. There was definitely something to take notice about that.

  “Where are we going?” he asked as we began our trek up the mountainside.

  “To pick up a third wheel,” I replied. I hadn’t really given much thought to the afternoon I had agreed to when I’d quickly texted Brie to say we’d pick her up in thirty minutes. I wasn’t sure I was ready to introduce her to Sawyer. After all, I wasn’t convinced she would see him again after this, so it probably didn’t matter. Beyond that, I wasn’t sure I would see him again after he left town, but at the same time, I wasn’t ready to leave him just yet—not after the way he’d held me at my breaking point. As much as I wanted to forget he existed for the time being, I knew that was impossible.

  “If we’re picking up an ex-boyfriend of yours, I’m not into it.” He laughed.

  “Don’t worry, it’s not a guy.” I playfully smacked his arm. “It’s my best friend, Brie. You should meet her.” As I said the words, I realized it sounded like I was suggesting that perhaps there really was something going on between Sawyer and me. The truth was that I just wanted to hang out with the two people in my life who filled me with excitement at a time when I had nothing else exciting going on.

  Sawyer effortlessly carried me all the way to the top of the trail, which was impressive. The incline seemed more intense than I remembered from our descent just a short time ago. I obviously could’ve made the trek myself, but I was a little smitten by the ride. It was sweet.

  We loaded into his Jeep, and I texted Brie. Can you grab a swimsuit for me? Also, grab some of Phil’s trunks. We have a guest. See you in 20.

  She texted back some silly emojis that made me laugh. I gave Sawyer general directions to where we were headed, and he pulled us onto the highway. We cranked up th
e radio and sang along to anything and everything that came on. I swore I knew the words to almost every song on the radio, in any genre, and Sawyer didn’t seem too far behind. We sang eighties rock songs, country ballads, and even some current rap songs. The wind whipped around us, and it felt like I was reliving a scene I’d lived so many times before, as if it was perfectly natural for the two of us to be driving around Lake Tahoe, top down, belting out song after song. It felt comfortable.

  We pulled into Brie’s driveway, and she opened her front door seconds later, before I had time to hop out of the Jeep. She flashed me a mischievous look.

  “Well, well . . . We have company, eh?” She smirked as she jumped into the back of the vehicle.

  “Sawyer Grant.” Sawyer politely introduced himself, reaching his hand around to her in the backseat.

  “Brie. Nice to meet you,” she replied. When Sawyer turned the Jeep around and began pulling out of her driveway, she tapped me on the shoulder and mouthed OMG with a wide grin. I tried to hide my expression, but Brie knew me better than anyone else. I’m sure she could see my feelings all over my face.

  “Sawyer is from Nashville,” I began, trying to explain why I had arrived with a hot stranger. “He’s here for a conference, but he’s playing hooky for the day so I thought I’d show him around. He’s never been to Mountain Ridge before.”

  “So you know each other from Nashville then?” she questioned, prying for more information. I wished I’d had time to brief her before we picked her up.

  “We met at the airport on the way here, actually. It’s a long story,” I replied somewhat dismissively. We definitely needed to be alone before I gave her more details. I told Sawyer which direction to drive and cranked up the music, hoping Brie took it as a hint to stop asking questions while Sawyer was in earshot.

  Within twenty minutes, we had made our way to one of my favorite spots, called Rocky Pointe. Brie and I had spent endless weekends here together, lying in the sun and jumping off the large rocks piled around the shoreline.