Page 23 of Waiting For Fate

“I could grab you that drink.” Sawyer's smooth voice echoes from behind me and I feel my heart flip inside my chest. I roll my eyes and turn around to see him standing at his six-foot-four, perfect height, his long brown hair perfectly messy, and a long sleeve gray thermal shirt hugging his body in all the right places. It really pisses me off that he has the audacity to walk around looking so damn dreamy all the time.

“I’d rather dehydrate, thanks.” I glare at him and give him a sarcastic smirk, but he simply returns it with one of his own. Letting his eyes roam over my body before settling on my face again. When he leans in closer I feel my breath catch in my throat.

“You’re being really stubborn; you know that right?” Regardless of the way his proximity is making it difficult to focus on anything other than how good he smells, I’m surprisingly able to gather myself long enough to form a coherent sentence.

“At least I’m being truthful.” I raise a brow, challenging him to try and argue with me. His jaw begins to tick, and his eyes grow darker.

“I don’t think you’re ready for my truth, Dove.”

“Says who?” Oh my god what am I, in middle school?

“You still dating the teacher?” he asks, with contempt filling every word. My brows knit together, wondering why that’s relevant to him telling me whatever truth it is he thinks I’m not ready for.

“Yes.”

“Then you’re not ready.” With a wink he walks away leaving me utterly confused and frustrated. I should have turned and walked away the second I heard his voice. I should have hung up our coats and joined everyone else in the kitchen and paid him no mind. Then I wouldn’t be sitting here wondering what the hell he can’t tell me just because I’m dating Jackson—and utterly desperate to find out.

UGHHHHH. Freaking Sawyer.

“Let’s go around the table and say what we’re thankful for!” Shane exclaims from her seat at the oversized dining room table.

I didn’t have to try too hard to avoid conversation with Sawyer tonight since the guys stayed in the kitchen most of the night while the girls were in the living room chatting and fawning over Cece and Poe. But as my luck would have it, I wound up sitting right across from Sawyer for dinner—which just feels like some kind of cruel karma at this point.

How the hell am I supposed to act like he doesn’t exist when he’s literally all I can see?

Everyone else is seated beside or across from their significant others with Hendrix and Cece heading up each end of the table.

“Ohh I love that idea!” Taylor claps excitedly, looking around the table to encourage everyone else’s participation. I know both Shane and Taylor are married—well, one is married, and one is getting there—but I’m pretty sure their soulmates are actually each other.

“I’ll go first.” Shane clears her throat before taking a sip from her water cup. “I am thankful for the family that I’ve found since moving back to Nashville.” She reaches across the table and grabs Max’s hand—who is looking at her like she hung the moon and all the stars. “Holidays are a lot less lonely with family, and though I’ve always known my girls would be there for me… I’m thankful for you, Max, and the family we’re starting together.” Max winks at her and I’m pretty sure Shane wipes a tear from her eye just as I finish my four–fifth? Glass of wine.

The rest of the group goes around saying what they’re thankful for and when it gets to Sawyer my stomach twists. His gaze is set on me in a way that feels like he can see straight into my soul. Like all my sins and secrets are on full display, and he looks completely intrigued by them.

“I’m thankful to be back home for good. That I no longer have to miss the things I did while I was away.”

“Things?” I’m shocked to hear myself say the words I had no intention of letting past my lips. “What things did you miss while you were away, Sawyer? Huh?” I finish pouring myself a fifth…sixth, maybe—fuck if I know—glass of wine.

“Leah…” Sawyer’s steady voice is no match for the absolutely manic tone of mine.

“Because we know it wasn’t the people. I mean, you clearly have no problem just up and leaving those behind and without a damn reason why at that.”

“Leah.” His voice is more assertive this time, but with all the alcohol and decade’s worth of pent-up rage simmering out of me, I don’t think I could stop yelling at him if I wanted to.

“How could you do that to me? You never showed up for breakfast, you left for college, and you left me on read or sent me to voicemail for months. I thought we were friends, Sawyer. You were mine, but clearly, I meant less to you than I ever thought.” Sawyer’s fist slams against the table, making me suck in a startled breath.

“Dammit Leah, you meant everything to me. That’s why I had to leave the way I did.”

“Watch your tone, son.” My dad says from somewhere around the table.

I’m pretty sure my heart falls out of my ass when those words leave Sawyer’s mouth and I realize that I’m literally crying in front of my parents and every single one of my friends during Thanksgiving dinner.

I would be thankful to disappear into thin air right about now.

With everyone’s eyes wide and mouths hanging open, the silence is so deafening that I’m pretty sure I could hear a leaf fall off a tree outside. Until Hendrix—God bless his soul—speaks up.

“Dammit is a bad word.”

“Not now Hen,” Ruby whispers from beside me.

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