by Emma Nichole
“That’s really sad, actually. I think he and Liv have a bit of history, but she’s very unwilling to share with me anything about it. Do you know anything?”
“I don’t. All I know is that when he found out you were bringing her, he had a pretty big, weird reaction to it.”
“And you didn’t ask?”
“Sure I did, but he didn’t go into details. Caleb gets around so I’m sure he fucked her once or twice and now it’s awkward.”
“Hmm. I would think she’d tell me if it were that simple.”
“Nothing, no matter how it seems, is ever simple, Sawyer.” He kisses my temple. “Have a seat. I’ll go get you a drink.”
He leaves me standing there with the weight of his words on my shoulder. Nothing is ever simple. That was laced with meaning, even if he didn’t mean for it to be. I don’t understand the heaviness I’ve felt around him this week. He’s been around and present, sure, but there’s this extra layer of... something.
I’m an empath. I always have been. I feel what others feel, be it good or bad, and there is a layer of stress radiating off of him that is so thick it’s nearly suffocating.
“There you are,” Liv says, plopping down next to me with a vodka tonic in her hand. “This place is insanely packed. Over Caleb? I don’t get it.”
“What is your deal with him, Liv? I’ve never seen you this way over someone before.”
“Caleb and I have a history I really don’t like rehashing.” She takes a sip of her drink then changes the subject. “Why are you over here all alone? Where’s boy toy?”
“He went to the bar to get me a drink. He seems off tonight. I mean, he didn’t at first but once he realized I was here, his mood altered just a hair.”
“Trouble in paradise?”
“I don’t know why there would be. Nothing has happened and as far as I’ve been concerned, things have been incredible for us since Napa.”
“Have you asked him?”
“What do you think? Of course, I have. He keeps telling me everything is fine and he is fine. Maybe I’m just paranoid because I’m finally feeling... relaxed, and there are more good days than bad ones.”
“You tend to do that, babe. You have to accept that good things are happening in your life now and stop overthinking. That’s a one-way ticket to killing a potential buzz, and if you expect me to get up there tonight and shake my ass with you, I’ll need that buzz. So will you.”
“Speaking of a buzz... keep drinking,” I whisper in her ear then stand up. “Hi, Caleb! Happy Birthday!”
“Thanks, darlin,” he replies and gives me a hug. “I’m glad you came.” I move back to my seat and his eyes settle on Olivia. “Hi, Olivia. It’s good to see you outside of the school.”
She plasters on a smile and sweeps her eyes up to him. “I wanted to spend the evening with my friend and enjoy some drinks. It was the perfect excuse. Your birthday is an afterthought.”
I roll my lips together and my eyes go wide. Oh shit. The hostility is real.
“Damn, is that still how it is?” He tilts his head and stares at her. The sexual tension between them is so thick even I feel it. I’ve never seen them together before, so I had no idea it even existed.
“That’s how it will always be, Caleb. You know that.”
“Doesn’t have to be. We had fun once upon a time.”
“Once being the key word,” she snaps.
“Not by my choice.” He takes a sip of the amber liquid in the glass he’s holding. “Let me buy you a drink.”
“I’ve got one here. Thanks,” she says, holding her glass up.
He chuckles and glances down at me. “Tell her I’m not a bad guy, will ya?”
Isaac appears behind him then steps around so he can sit beside me, but he doesn’t say a word, only passes me a drink.
“Thank you,” I tell him before turning back to Caleb. “Well, you know us women always have to stick together so if she sees you as the bad guy, I’m morally obligated to take her side and bad-mouth you over wine and ice cream.” I shrug with a smile.
“Women, man,” Caleb groans. “I’m going to make the rounds again to make sure everyone is having a good time. I’ll catch you all later.”
“What was that about?” Isaac asks, sliding his arm around me.
I go to answer but Liv downs the rest of her drink and answers first. “Your friend is a dick. That’s what. And he pisses me off because he’s so damn pretty.”
“This should be an interesting night,” I tell Isaac.
Isaac
The night is going strong, and I am having a good time, but the looming reality of my connection to Sawyer is ever-present in my mind. It’s preventing me from letting go and enjoying a night out with her.
I try to make sure she can’t tell there is something on my mind, but she is calling me on my shit anytime she catches an off glance or a little tension.
But now, with one in the morning around the corner, she and Olivia each have a few drinks in them and are flipping through a binder to decide which song they are going to sing together.
We’ve all been singing along to every song chosen, like a big, inebriated, poorly performed concert, but seeing her smile and laugh is more intoxicating than the beer in my system.
“Oh my God, Liv. I’m not getting up there and singing ‘My Neck, My Back,’” Sawyer says loudly, all while holding her stomach from laughing.
“Why not? That would be fun!” Liv playfully nudges her.
“I’m not singing in front of everyone about someone licking my pussy,” she whispers the final word and it’s adorable, yet hearing the word pussy from her mouth makes my cock twitch in my jeans. Even with all the added madness in my head, me wanting her has never been an issue. And that makes me feel like a dick for wanting someone I know would hate me otherwise.
“Booooring,” Liv says, leaning back against the sofa.
“Go with a classic. Those always get the crowd engaged,” I tell them.
“Hmm,” Sawyer says, tapping her chin then smiles wide. “I’ve got it!” She thumbs through the binder until she finds what she’s looking for and shows Olivia.
“Oh, that’s absolutely perfect!”
Sawyer snaps the binder closed then stands. “If I’m going to do this, I need another shot.” She pulls Olivia up with her. “Let’s go turn in our song, get shots, then bring this party down.”
“You go ahead, I need to run to the bathroom real quick. I’ll meet you by the bar for that shot.”
“Okay!” Sawyer comes over and bends down, cupping my face in her hands and kissing my lips. “Wish me luck up there.”
I curl my finger into the fabric of her dress and tug her closer, stealing another kiss. “Good luck.”
“I love you,” she says softly, before disappearing into the crowd to go to the bar.
“Now that we have a second to chat….” Olivia says, standing right in front of me with her arms crossed over her chest.
Uh oh.
“Ah, the best friend talk.” I shift in my seat a bit and straighten my posture, crossing my leg and resting my ankle on my knee, arm extended along the back of the sofa. “Hit me with it.”
“You’re right, she is my best friend. I love her with my entire heart and the last thing I want is to see her sad again. The girl you’re seeing now isn’t the same girl who moved to Sunnyville last year. That girl had a dark cloud over her head. It followed her every single day, everywhere she went. She had just started slowly breaking out of her own head around the time of the Harvest Festival, and now that she’s with you… she’s alive. I’ve never seen her smile so much or look so happy. I have to assume it’s all thanks to you.”
I swallow hard, listening to her every word with the weight of the truth pressing into my chest. Truth that would no doubt send her barreling back toward that dark cloud… maybe even worse.
“What I’m trying to say is please don’t hurt her. You have a bit of a reputation around here, but I know th
at men cannot be defined by their choices over time. And if you do hurt her… I’ll stab you,” she threatens, with a point of her finger to my chest.
My first reaction is to laugh, but I stop instantly because the look on her face is deadly serious.
“Olivia, I love her. It’s really as simple as that. The last thing I’d want to do is cause her harm in any way. I’d rather throw myself on a sword than hurt her. That’s a promise.”
“Good.” She nods once and tosses her hair over her shoulder. “I should go get drunker so I can show you all how to really karaoke.”
***
I make my way over to one of the standing tables by the stage, and I’m quickly flanked by Caleb and Finn, both far more intoxicated than I am.
“You’re not drunk enough, Black,” Finn says.
“I’ve got a nice buzz going. I’m all good.”
“Your girls seem to be enjoying themselves.” Caleb motions just to the side of the stage where Sawyer and Olivia are dancing along to a song that is playing. Sawyer looks so happy and so carefree.
“Olivia gave me the talk. The if you hurt her, I’ll hurt you talk,” I tell them. “Funny timing.”
Considering what I have to admit to her.
“Ladies and gentleman, give a round of applause for Sawyer and Olivia!”
The entire bar explodes in hoots and hollers when they step on the stage, each with a microphone in hand.
Sawyer shields her eyes from the lights and scans the crowd, wrinkling her nose at me when she finds me at the table, and I raise my beer to her to cheer her on.
They both look up at the screens above them for the words then the a cappella intro to “Bohemian Rhapsody” by Queen begins, and as expected, every person in the building starts singing along with them.
For the entire six-minute runtime of the song, Sawyer is a beacon of energy: singing at the top of her lungs, dancing, and enjoying herself. Someone brings them each a bottle of beer, which they hold in the air and wave back and forth as the final verse of the song begins. The entire room joins in with them as the song rolls to a close with Freddy Mercury’s lyrics exiting the beautiful lips of the woman I’m desperately in love with.
As I stare at her up on that stage, I see her happiness radiating off of her. Olivia’s words repeat in my brain, telling me over and over that I’ve brought Sawyer back to life.
I know right here, right now… I can’t tell her who I am.
Chapter 23
Sawyer
There’s a looming sense of dread, of being watched and judged, woven within the narrative of The Great Gatsby in the form of Doctor T. J. Eckleburg’s bespectacled gaze. That’s how I see the anxiety in my life. A way to give it a name, a being. It’s easier for me to work through that way.
I feel it heavy on my shoulders when my eyes open before the sun has even fully made her appearance. I inhale deeply then push the air slowly out my mouth, repeating that over and over until I can feel a sense of calm settle into my chest, shaking what I can of this bad feeling. The last thing I want is for it to overtake my entire day.
I spent Friday night, after the party, with Isaac at his place, and he stayed here with me last night, before leaving an hour or so ago to prepare for his twenty-four-hour shift today. Slipping into a routine with him is one of the easiest things that I’ve done. We fit together like a puzzle. My wobbly, awkward into his perfectly smooth-edged piece, creating one cohesive portion of a larger picture.
I tug the comforter up over my head and roll myself toward his pillow, creating a burrito of myself and burying my face into the fabric that smells like his shampoo. Love is a weird thing that makes you do and think things you’d roll your eyes at any other time.
I’m settling into a peaceful, very comfortable place... sleep just on the horizon until...
Meow.
I groan, tugging the covers tighter over my head. Maybe if I don’t make any sudden movements, he’ll leave me alone.
Meow.
“Ugh.” I toss the covers off of my head and find Herbert standing on my nightstand, staring at me. “You’re rude.”
Meow.
“Fine.” I toss the covers completely aside and sit up. “You’re lucky you’re cute.”
I snatch my cell off the table, resigning myself to the fact that if I’m up, I’m staying up. May as well scroll social media and have some coffee.
Herbert hops up onto the kitchen table and continues to meow the entire time I prepare his bowl of food.
“You’re the most impatient cat.” I place his bowl on the floor to which he hops down and begins to happily eat. “There. Now you can stop bugging me.”
I squat down to pet him from his head, down his back, and up his tail. He may be an asshole but he’s mine, and I love him.
I pop a K-cup into my Keurig and slide my mug underneath that boasts one of my favorite quotes from Hamilton. A legacy is planting seeds for a garden you’ll never get to see.
I lean against the counter, scrolling through my phone while I wait for my coffee to finish brewing.
The usual is happening on social media. Drama here, feud there, hilarious pictures, and wildly untrue political memes abound. I can only handle so much of it before I close out all of those apps, opting to check my email instead.
Swiping through all the spam and junk, I see a new email this morning from the Sunnyville Journal. I think I may have signed up for their weekly newsletter when I stopped by their booth at the Harvest Festival back in September.
That’s not the part that makes my stomach do a front flip though. It’s the headline of the email.
“Los Angeles Wildfires - Five Years Later - Sunnyville’s Finest Heroes”
I know better than to read it. At least that’s what I tell myself, even as I move to the table to sit. Even as I press the screen to open the email. Even as I begin reading. It begins as a normal memorial piece, but the middle shakes me to my core. The middle brings tears to my eyes. The middle shakes my world up, throwing it around and tossing it upside down.
While this tragedy may not have affected us directly here in Sunnyville, some of our finest men in uniform ran into those fires head on, saving lives in the process.
Isaac Black has been a firefighter here in Sunnyville since he was twenty-two years old. He has battled house fires, structural fires, aided in car accidents and more, but a story he told us five years ago has stuck with us, and we’re sure it will stick with you too.
I click the link just below and it takes me to a different web page. A video dated five years ago nearly to the day begins to play, and Isaac’s face fills my screen.
He looks the same, but a little younger. He didn’t have his facial hair then, probably opting to shave it off. Even as my gut is swirling, my face can’t hide the slightest hint of a smile.
But that doesn’t last very long.
I watch his lips as he details his experience while battling the fires all those years ago. Telling stories of the things he saw and the things he had to do. Some heroic but heartbreaking, but he transitions into a story that he says has been branded into his brain.
My story.
He details saving a woman from her home who wouldn’t leave because she was scared for a loved one. He leaves out the details of my brother that he knew, but everything else... it’s there. My bloody forehead, the room exploding into flames... everything.
Isaac saved me from the fires that night.
Isaac saved my life.
Isaac let my brother die.
A sob I’m not expecting escapes my lips and I toss my phone onto the table. I cover my face with my hands and begin to cry.
I try to rationalize it as best I can. Maybe he didn’t know it was me? That’s something I can get over, isn’t it?
But what if he did know? What if he knew all along and didn’t tell you?
My mind begins to spiral into worst-case scenarios. I’m like a pendulum swaying back and forth from anger to confusion. Anger to acceptance.
Anger to sadness and back to confusion again. Over and over it swings until I summon the courage to do what I need to do.
This is what it comes down to.
Best-case scenario, he never connected the dots and we can find some kind of way to wade through this once I have time to think... even if I can wrap my mind around falling in love with someone I tried so hard to hate.
Worst-case scenario, he knew and said nothing, and I won’t be able to look him in the eye anymore.
I’m praying to God for the former, even if I don’t know that it will make a difference.
Isaac
There’s a bit of a tradition here in the firehouse when we get new meat in for their first week. Hazing them over a game of poker on quiet nights.
The sun has set now, and there’s a crisp chill in the air, but it’s nice, so we have the truck bay doors open, letting the breeze come through the entire firehouse.
“I’ll see your five dollars and raise you ten,” Jordan, the new guy, says, keeping a straight face.
I’m watching with my arms over my chest as Grady takes a peek at his own cards then back to the four cards in the middle.
“Let’s see it.” He nods to me and I reach out, drawing the fifth card and laying it on the table, the Queen of Hearts.
It’s silent while Grady and Jordan size each other up.
“I’m going all-in, fellas,” Grady says, pushing every coin and bill he has to the center of the table.
He’s bluffing. I have always been able to read Grady like a book and he hates it. That’s why he’ll never play against me.
All of our attention goes to Jordan, who is now looking at his hand, back at the cards in the center of the table, then to Grady.
Come on, Kid. Don’t be scared of him.
“Fuck,” he sighs, tossing his cards down. “I fold.”
Groans erupt from all of us who are watching before Grady begins to wildly laugh.
“Should have been braver, kid.” He shows his hand, and he didn’t have shit. Nothing at all.