Page 37 of Waiting For Fate

“Haven’t you done enough already? Just leave her alone, Sawyer,” she says quietly, almost pleading in a way.

I’ve always had a soft spot for Taylor—she is my little sister after all—my Tator Tot, and I’ve protected her, stood up for her, and been best friends with her for her entire life. But I’m done backing down just because she thinks she knows best.

“Don’t fucking start with that bullshit. You do realize that you’re the reason shit is the way it is with me and Leah, don’t you?”

“Me? What the hell do I have to do with this?” she squeals, the look of shock on her face making me furious.

“Is that how you’re gonna play it then? Pretend like you have no idea what part you played in me disappearing from Leah’s life and making her hate me for ten. Fucking. Years!” I yell, watching as the color drains from Taylor’s face.

“Sawyer, I’m serious. I don’t know what I did. Please tell me.” I run my hands through my hair, pulling on the wavy strands before letting out a manic laugh.

“The senior Halloween party? You basically threatened to hate me forever if I ruined your friendship with Leah, if I tried anything with her.”

“Sawyer, I was drunk off my ass at that party! I did like six shots within the first fifteen minutes of being there, I don’t remember saying any of that! I barely remember you even being there that night.”

“Don’t lie to me just to save your own ass now.” I stop and glare at her, coming to the slow realization that she really didn’t know.

“I’m not lying!” Tears start filling her eyes and I start to believe that ten years’ worth of pining, regret and wishing I could have a do-over of that night, were all the result of a drunken comment she doesn’t even remember making.

“You liked Leah?” She sounds so surprised. I don’t know how she couldn’t see it though; I hardly ever took my eyes off her.

“She was one of my best friends, Taylor! The way I felt about her was unlike anything I’ve ever felt for another person. I knew if given the chance I could have really…” I stop myself before the rest of that sentence slips out, because Taylor isn’t the one I want to be saying this to. “But instead, I was too scared of ruining your friendship—and mine—with her if she didn’t feel the same. So, I just disappeared instead. I stood her up, I stopped answering her calls and texts… I stopped being me for her, and she’s hated me ever since.”

“But why? Why would you stop talking to her? Why not just stay friends with her?” Taylor shakes her head, panicking as she realizes the magnitude of why Leah and I have been less than friendly all these years.

“Because being friends with her and nothing more would have killed me. Because I knew eventually, I would cross that line, and if she didn’t feel the same—if it didn’t work out—you would have been right. Drunk or not, you made it clear that we might lose her if I went there. Because at least the decision I did make, let you keep your best friend. Even if I lost mine.”

“Sawyer,” Taylor chokes out, with tears spilling from her eyes.

I’ve always hated seeing my sister cry. I was the first one asking who I needed to beat up whenever she was upset back in the day. I still don’t like it now that I’m the reason for her tears, but tonight’s conversation was a necessary evil. Something that was long past due.

“We’re adults now, Taylor. It’s not a crush that I’m unsure about, I’ve thought of nothing but her for ten years, while she went on hating me. I’m done worrying about losing her friendship—because I haven’t had it since that night. I trust you two will be fine regardless of how she responds to my feelings. The next time I see her, I’m telling her how I feel.” I turn to walk away, my heart hammering behind my chest as I fight the urge to still track down this asshole’s house and find her.

“Sawyer!” Taylor’s voice cracks as she calls after me. I turn around to see her still crying in the doorway and sigh. “Are we good?”

Taylor and I have never been in a serious fight. Sibling disagreements, bickering, and fighting over who got the remote first, sure. But nothing as serious as what we discussed tonight. I know she’s not the one to blame, her comment may have prompted my decisions, but she really isn’t as involved in this as I’ve always made her out to be.

“We’re good, Tot. Just—don’t say anything to her if you see her before I do. She needs to hear this from me.” I nod, watching as her lips roll together to let a tear finish rolling down her cheek. She nods back quickly and dips back inside.

Between the adrenaline that’s been pumping through my veins and the high from winning the game tonight, I’m absolutely beat. I may not be tracking Leah down tonight, but the next time I see her—the next conversation I have with her—is going to determine the rest of my future.

CHAPTER 15

LEAH

When Taylor asked if I wanted to come over for an impromptu girl’s night after the game, I was a little hesitant. Mostly because I knew she was probably going to ask me about Sawyer’s outburst tonight—for which I have zero explanation—not to mention I have work tomorrow and I’m not normally up past nine on weeknights, but after the mention of Tucker making Mama Marilyn’s cookies for us, I was sold. I’m sitting in the kitchen in my sweats, throwing back chocolate chip cookies like they’re some kind of problem-solving tequila or something when someone knocks on the door.

“You expecting someone?” Taylor’s brows knit together, and Tucker shakes his head, as he continues mixing more cookie dough.

“Be right back.” She smiles and disappears into the living room. The door opens and I hear the muffled sound of voices, though I can’t make out who it is or what they’re saying.

I give up on my sad attempt at eavesdropping and look back at Tucker and can’t help but snicker. He’s wearing black sweatpants, a plain white T-shirt, and a black apron while he makes homemade chocolate chip cookies.

“What’s so funny?” He tips his chin at me as I push my glasses further up the bridge of my nose.

“You just look so…domesticated.” I wave a hand up and down and he looks down before he shrugs.

“I’d love to argue with you, but I’m afraid you might be right.” I put another cookie in my mouth—not bothering to keep count of how many I’ve had at this point—and grab my glass of milk off the counter.

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