Half-Truths

by Randileigh Kennedy

  “Wes was just telling me about the other night,” Sawyer commented as I joined their conversation.

  “That kiss meant nothing to me, I swear,” I said defensively. “It never should’ve happened.”

  “Wait, what?” Sawyer said with a confused expression.

  “Not exactly what we were just talking about, Whit,” Wes chimed in, looking uncomfortable.

  I wanted to say something, but no words came out. I wanted to pretend I hadn’t just said what I’d said, but there was no undoing it. They had both heard it loud and clear.

  “You son of a . . .” Sawyer looked furious, but I cut him off before he could continue.

  “It’s my fault,” I said quickly. “I shouldn’t have gone out with Wes to begin with. I know that. But I needed closure. I’ve spent the past three years writing out every agonizing feeling I ever had over us, and I needed to end that.”

  “Not really an explanation for how your lips found each other,” Sawyer said, locking eyes with Wes.

  “It was completely my fault,” Wes interjected. “The whole thing. We realized we fell apart over a misunderstanding. I guess I just got caught up in that, and I wanted to fix it. Like that would get rid of all my guilt or something. But Whitley is right about one thing: I never fought for her. I know that.”

  “So you’re doing that now?” Sawyer said with a gruff voice.

  “I had to at least try,” he admitted. “But I swear, she made it very clear that I’m not what she wants. That I’m not who she wants.”

  “Sawyer, let’s go. Please,” I pleaded with him.

  “Maybe I should go,” he said quietly. I could tell he was mad. I knew enough about him to know he wasn’t the type to blow up about this. Other guys would’ve probably decked Wes in the face for his actions, but Sawyer was too reserved for that. Worse, he looked like it was burning him up inside, and that made my heart ache.

  He turned toward his vehicle in the parking lot. “Sawyer, please. Don’t leave without me.”

  “Whitley, why didn’t you tell me about this? Do you realize how uncomfortable it is to be having a conversation with someone who knows what happened while I don’t? Like the joke’s on me? I’ve been nothing but open and honest with you about everything, Whit. I expected the same from you.” His words hurt.

  “Sawyer, I didn’t say anything about it because it didn’t matter to me. It was completely insignificant.”

  “Then I think we have varying levels of insignificance,” he said angrily before making his way to the Jeep. I stuck out an arm to stop him before he could reach his door handle.

  “Sawyer, please, don’t do this. I’m a mess, I know that.”

  “Whitley, that’s not an excuse for everything,” he said quietly.

  That hurt the most, maybe because it was so personal—or worse, maybe because he was right.

  “It’s not an excuse, I know,” I stammered as slow tears slid down my face. “But it’s true. Do you realize how many times in the past week I’ve hit rock bottom? I feel like every day it’s one thing after another. I’m crumbling, and it’s not your fault, or anyone else’s. But I’m still falling apart, and somehow I feel like you’re the only thing holding me together.”

  “What do you want, Whitley?”

  “To not feel like I’m failing at everything.” It was probably the most honest thing I’d ever said.

  “That’s your crutch.” He stared at me with intense eyes. “We’re probably all failing at something, Whit. But that’s life. Sometimes you catch a break, and it’s smooth for a while, but that’s not the gist of it. If you’re not fighting for something all the time, you’re not doing it right.”

  The tears continued as Sawyer reached his strong arms around me.

  “Fight for what you want, Whit. That’s the only way you’ll get it. The only way. I know life happens in the meantime. We can’t control what goes on with people around us, and shitty things happen despite our best efforts. But it’s how you react to that, Whit—that’s what makes you.”

  “I’m trying,” I murmured.

  “You’re one of the feistiest girls I know. That’s one of the things I love about you. But you can’t be feisty and afraid, Whit. So pick one.”

  He swiftly kissed me on the forehead and released me from his grip. He opened the door to his Jeep and climbed in. I stood there, motionless. He started the engine, and the roar of it echoed through the quiet night. My anger seethed. I was not going to let him drive away. Not like this.

  I ran around to the passenger side and flung open the door. Sawyer stared at me, waiting for my reaction.

  “You’re not leaving without me,” I demanded, shutting the door behind me as I climbed into the seat. I put on my seat belt. “I’m not afraid, Sawyer. I’m not some girl who’s afraid of being alone if you want no part of this. I’m not here fighting to save this because I’m afraid of being without you. I’m here because you’re worth fighting for. I know that. I know there’s a lot I haven’t figured out yet, and maybe I’m floundering at the moment. But I do know with absolute certainty that I want to be with you.”

  He smiled, and I felt a sense of relief, though I was still fired up.

  “You want me to be feisty? Fine. Take me to this hotel,” I stated, handing him Dalton’s business card with a Hilton address scrawled on the back.

  “What is this?”

  “My future,” I said dramatically. “Which maybe I’m about to royally screw up. But if you want to see me fight for what I want, this is it.”

  Sawyer put the Jeep in reverse, and we pulled onto the main road. Within a few minutes, we had parked and were headed toward the hotel lobby. I used my cell to call the room number listed. Sure enough, Dalton answered, and I explained I would be at his door momentarily.

  “Do you want to talk this over first?” Sawyer asked politely as we waited for the elevator.

  “I already got your pep talk back at the beach. I’m good,” I replied with a smirk. We rode the elevator up and I found Dalton’s room. I paused for a moment then confidently knocked.

  “What a surprise,” Dalton said enthusiastically as he opened the door. “But Kip is gone already. He took a flight out last night after the show. I only stuck around to do a little gambling and to make some bad decisions while my wife thinks I’m away on business.”

  I shook my head in disgust. They were all the same. “I’ve made a decision,” I explained, trying to sound secure in my words. “Kip can use any of the songs we cowrote. That’s fine. But anything that was mine—and he knows which ones those were, particularly the songs I heard last night—those are mine. He doesn’t get to use them.”

  “Darlin’, you’re making a huge mistake,” Dalton said with some frustration in his voice. “Those songs are perfect for him.”

  “They’re mine. He has no right to use them without my permission, and I’m not granting it. That being said, I know you represent other artists. I am more than ready for a conversation about someone else using them. You said yourself you liked them, and you saw the crowd last night. So pitch them to someone else. Your label still benefits, and everyone but Kip wins, which is perfectly fine by me.”

  “Let’s just think about this for a bit,” Dalton said persuasively. “Come in. Have a seat. Let’s talk.” He motioned for Sawyer and me to come inside, but I declined.

  “There’s no need,” I said confidently. “After what Kip did to me, he doesn’t get to benefit from anything I wrote before him. It’s not gonna happen. I’m firm on that. But if you want to pitch my work to someone else though—great, you have my attention. But I strongly suggest you move on that quickly before letting go of them entirely. I’ll give your label first right of refusal, but you have only ten days before I pitch them elsewhere.”

  Dalton ran his fingers through his moustache, deep in thought. “Kip’s gonna kill me,” he muttered. “Fine. I’ll pitch them to a few others. I need you to meet a couple people at the label. I’ll set a meeting soon.”r />
  “Get me the dates and times, and I’ll make it work,” I said assuredly. I reached out and shook his hand. He smirked at me, and it felt good, like I just won an argument. Dalton closed the door, and I looked up at Sawyer with a huge grin.

  “Holy balls, that was amazing.” He laughed as soon as we were out of earshot, making our way toward the elevator. “I think you just got yourself a record deal.”

  “That felt kind of good,” I gushed, tingles flowing throughout my entire body.

  “We need to celebrate,” he said excitedly, grabbing my hand for the ride downstairs. He pulled me into the hotel bar, said something to the bartender, and before I knew it, we were heading to the top of the parking garage with a gold bottle. We made our way to the edge of the garage, overlooking the downtown lights and the lake.

  “Wow, this is a pretty spot,” I marveled, in awe of the view. It was the buzz and twinkle of the city right up against the solitude of the lake that had me mesmerized—chaos and beauty, crossing right over each other. That was exactly how I felt at the moment. This week had been one of the best and worst for so many reasons. I felt anxious and calm at the same time.

  Sawyer found a flat spot to sit on the ledge of the parking garage. At first it made me nervous, as I thought our feet were going to be dangling over the edge, but there was a four-foot lip of concrete extending past our legs so it didn’t seem all that unsafe. He pulled the champagne out from under his arm.

  “Thank you, Dalton, for letting me charge this to your room number.” Sawyer smirked.

  “You didn’t,” I gasped.

  “Oh, yeah, I did. That was a real dirtbag thing he just said about his wife. The least he can do is afford you a proper celebration. You have to make a wish,” he said playfully, grabbing the cork while waiting for my response.

  A thousand things swirled through my head. I wanted to wish my father better, if it was possible, but obviously things didn’t work that way. It was the same reason I couldn’t just “wish” myself successful. Instead it was proving to be years of work, though I was finally hopeful on that front. Then there was this guy sitting next to me with his boyish smile and laughter in his eyes—the guy who calmed me and pushed me all at once. He was a wish come true I didn’t recall even making. Yet however he had entered into my life, I was so very thankful for it.

  “I feel like I have everything I want right now.” I blushed, resting my hand on his leg. “You make the wish.”

  “Okay, let’s see,” he replied thoughtfully. “May I someday find a girl who will read the newspaper with me in the early morning hours inside a blanket fort.” He shot off the cork, and I laughed as it fell onto the parked cars in the lot below us.

  “I hope you get everything you want.”

  “She’s out there somewhere,” he teased. “But in the meantime I’ll settle for you.”

  Chapter 16

  The next few days were a whirlwind. I spent the mornings driving my grandmas to their appointments, helping them shop for yarn for their knitting projects, and volunteering with them at the Salvation Army for upcoming charity events. My afternoons were spent under the summer sun with Sawyer, and I loved every minute we were together. We went back to my favorite beach one afternoon, the same spot we had jumped from the rocks with Brie. I still remember the way he’d made me smile that day, the way he’d held me that morning at Eagle’s Cove when I thought my entire world was collapsing. This time our experience was far different. There was no sadness and no emotional breakdown. Instead we laughed and jumped from the rocks and swam around until the sun lowered behind the peaks of the mountains.

  There was no shortage of smiles, no time limit over our heads as to when the days had to end, and it felt impossible to separate from him no matter how many hours our hands were on each other. We danced in his hotel room, lay under the stars, and soared on the swings near the edge of the lake. If I had made a wish that night when he’d asked me to, this would’ve been it: endless days together, falling for each other the way every girl should fall for a boy at least once in her lifetime.

  With Wes, the falling took months. We knew each other well before it began, and we spent quite a bit of time together before realizing we had more than friendship. With Chris, it was a whirlwind romance from the start. We fell hard and fast, without really getting to know each other at all. We had music in common, and that seemed like enough at the time to get us through the rest. Obviously I learned that wasn’t nearly enough.

  With Sawyer, it was all different. Not much time had passed since we met. But we spent hours talking under the stars about our upbringing, our families, and what kind of life we wanted. He was old-fashioned in a way, not out for any kind of grand, extravagant life; he just wanted to help people as best he could, work hard, and live quietly outside the city. I agreed with him. As much as I loved the city, I grew up in a beautiful, quiet place. It’s where my thoughts found me and where I could sit out for hours and write down everything weighing upon my heart. Growing up, I could sit on a rock and stare at the mountains for hours. It was one of the things that brought me the most peace. I’d been so busy the past few years busting my ass to “make it” that I’d forgotten just how much the silence of sitting alone meant to me. I couldn’t imagine spending a lifetime taking elevators and searching for parking spots. I realized that now that I was home in the kind of solitude I was raised in. I longed for it more than I realized.

  Sawyer and I were lying on a huge boulder at one of my favorite beaches. He had a biography in his hands, while I feverishly wrote into my spiral notebook. My phone rang, and I lit up as soon as I saw it was my dad’s number. His recovery in the hospital had been good so far, but when they removed his breathing tubes, they hit his vocal chords, so he’d been unable to speak since the surgery. His voice was too hoarse for anyone to understand him. I had yet to actually speak to him.

  I answered the phone cheerfully, hoping it was really him this time and not just my mom using his phone.

  “I’m going to need to take dancing lessons,” my dad stated matter-of-factly in a dry, raspy voice.

  “What?” I smirked, a little confused.

  “If I’m going to dance with you at your wedding someday like I promised, I’m probably going to need to learn how to dance,” he explained. A slow, happy tear slid down my cheek, and it felt so good to hear his voice. We talked for a few minutes, and I could see Sawyer’s face turn to relief when he realized the call was good news. My uncle was headed to Stanford in his RV to pick up my parents and transport them home. He was finally being released. His recovery was far from over, but he had reached a point where he could heal on his own with a heavy schedule of medications and doctor follow-ups in town.

  The good news didn’t stop that afternoon. I also got a call from Dalton, letting me know he’d secured a meeting with some people from the label I needed to meet. It was just a meeting, so he made sure to quell my excitement by explaining things might not go as I wanted, but his pessimism didn’t faze me. Just to have the opportunity to be in front of someone, anyone who wanted to hear me out, was good enough for the time being. I was grateful I would have a couple of days to spend with my dad, and then I could fly out and still make the meeting.

  The sun began to sink, and I got three texts from my brother, asking if I would be home for a family game night. Apparently everyone was so excited about my dad coming home, they wanted to celebrate the only way they knew how: with hours of dice, card, and board games.

  “How do you feel about Monopoly?” I asked Sawyer.

  “Strong to quite strong. I love that game,” he said enthusiastically. It was strange that Sawyer hadn’t met my family yet. Well, other than Warren, but he didn’t count. With my parents gone, I just hadn’t seen the point in introducing him to the rest of the dynamic bunch. Sometimes we were a lot to handle. We were loud and a little crazy, and I worried it may scare him off.

  “Want to come over and meet my crazy relatives?” I blurted without much tho
ught. He had to return to Nashville a couple of days before me, so I guessed this was as good a time as any. We had one only more night together.

  “I thought you’d never ask,” he teased.

  “Really? You want to meet them? That doesn’t seem like too much at this point?” I was never good at figuring out the pace of a relationship. It felt different every time. If there were “rules” about it, I didn’t know them. “They’re a bit wild and loud. Sometimes we play games like full-contact spoons, and things get out of hand. Blood, dislocated collarbones, things of that nature . . . I just don’t want to freak you out if you think it’s too much pressure or whatever. You don’t have to do it.”

  “I once carried you up a mountain on my shoulders. You know, back in another time period, that would have solidified our bond for life and you’d already be bearing my children. But this, an invite to Monopoly night, that seems like good progress for us.”

  “You know what I mean. It’s just awkward,” I tried explaining. Sadly, I guess he didn’t know what I meant. There was no one for him to introduce me to. That saddened me.

  “It’s fine,” he reassured me. “I would love to. You haven’t scared me off yet, so how bad can it be? Besides, I’m a doctor, remember? I can reset a collarbone. Crazy people don’t scare me. After all, I’ve been around you quite a bit lately, and I’m still here.”

  “You did almost leave me in a parking lot once,” I teased, as if that was so long ago.

  “You kissed your ex-boyfriend; I would say that’s grounds for panicking about the status of our relationship,” he joked back. “It seems we’ve figured that out now, yeah?” He smiled innocently. I loved his face. Not just because it was perfectly handsome, but because of the way he showed every emotion he felt.

  “You carried me up a mountain,” I restated, leaning in to kiss him. “I’m pretty sure that means I belong to you now.”

  He kissed me back, and I felt everything he wanted me to. His lips were sweet and comforting but commanding, and I knew his were the only lips I wanted to taste. They felt protective in some way, and that meant more to me than he probably realized. Wes hadn’t fought for me, and Chris had never even wanted the chance, but with Sawyer, I didn’t doubt there was some fight in him. I knew every time he kissed me that it meant something to him, and that was everything to me. All of the effort he’d put into the blanket fort and the adventures we’d had together—surely we were so far beyond the point of breaking apart. His touch consumed me, and I’d known for some time that this was more than just a summer fling. The idea of us returning to Nashville together had me completely giddy, and I looked forward to everything that was to come.