Page 70 of Waiting For Fate

“Yes,” I whisper pleadingly.

“Can I take you to dinner tonight?” His kisses trail up my jawline and he nips at my ear before standing back to face me completely. When I finally catch my breath and focus on him, he actually looks nervous.

“Sawyer Clark, are you asking me out on a date?”

“I am.” My heart does a somersault in my chest because I never thought this day would happen. Not in this lifetime at least.

“I would love that.” I bite on my cheek to keep my smile from bursting at the seams.

“Alright then,” The boyish smile on his face and the strong Tennessee accent in his response has seventeen-year-old me absolutely screaming on the inside.

“Let’s get stuff finished up here then we can get ready to go, sound good?”

God, I love an assertive man.

I nod in agreement and just like it’s been the rest of the day, Sawyer flawlessly transitions from a heated moment to putting laundry away for me like he’s been part of this routine forever. Meanwhile, I can’t stop thinking about what happened on the couch before we went grocery shopping and wondering if he had the same inclination I did to let it happen again on the island before he asked me to dinner.

As I’m putting the last bit of groceries away, Sawyer comes walking back out of my bedroom with something in his hand, but what really gets my attention is the pained expression on his face.

“What’s the matter?” My brows knit together as his head shakes back and forth.

“You kept this?” Now it’s my turn to frown. I look down at the blue and yellow hoodie I’ve had since tenth grade with our school’s hockey logo on it and my expression softens.

“Of course I did. You gave it to me.” He begins closing the distance between us, coming to a stop right in front of me.

“Even when you hated me. You kept it? You…sleep in it?” The strain in his voice as well as the way he visibly swallows make his emotions clear.

“I never hated you, Sawyer. I just wanted to hate you because…” I roll my lips together, unsure if now is the time for this conversation.

“Because why, Dove?” The agony in his face is pleading with me to finally be truthful—with him and with myself.

“Because I never stopped loving you.” I’ve never seen a man get emotional. Not directly at least, and never about me. But the way Sawyer’s chest is rising and falling with short, quick breaths and the sad joy that’s now in his eyes, it’s unmistakable.

“You loved me?” His voice cracks, making my heart squeeze and my eyes begin to water.

I nod in response. “Well…yeah.”

“For how long?” The strain on his voice breaks me in ways I never knew were possible.

“For as long as I can remember,” I whisper. “Ever since you first called me Dove.” He breaks down, letting his hands cup my cheeks and he presses his forehead to mine.

“Why didn’t you tell me?” His voice is soft like a whisper, but full of pain.

“Because we became friends, and I didn’t want to lose you. And—” I drop my head, looking down at my socks until he pulls my gaze back to him.

“And?”

“I was convinced you’d never look at me the way I always looked at you. I was just your little sister’s best friend for a while, then we were friends, then I was… nothing.” I can almost feel my heart breaking all over again as I hear the collapse of our relationship voiced aloud.

He steps back and pulls his shirt over his head, making me breathe a little deeper when I take in his perfectly sculpted, tattoo covered body. He grabs my hands and places them on his ribs, making my face twist in confusion.

“I’ve wanted you for far longer than you even realize, Dove. I’ve only seen you for over ten years. You engrained yourself into my mind so deeply, that when we went our separate ways, the only way I could make sure I had some part of you with me always, was to etch you into my body as well.” When the realization hits me, I look down where he placed my hands, a small gasp leaving my lips when I see it.

An angel wing is tattooed on the left side of his rib cage with the word Dove closing one side. I run my fingertips over the scalloped part of the wings, my vision becoming blurry behind my glasses.

“When did you get this?” I ask, wiping the tears with the sleeve of my sweatshirt.

“About a week after Halloween.”

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