Page 12 of Sawyer

“Two years off and on.”

Included in the “off” part is about four months last summer while Ivy was in Skagway. That summer, she was mine, and I was hers, and it all ended too abruptly for any sort of closure.

“Another thing to remember is that college isreallydifferent from real life,” McKenna points out. “So many decisions are made for you or exist to make your life easier.Meals are made for you in a dining hall. You have a dorm or apartment to live in. Medical and mental health services are included in the cost of tuition. It’s easy. Real life is totally different. You grocery shop. You make your dinner. You wash your own dishes. You rent or buy your own apartment. You need to get insurance—for your body and your home. College and real life have very little in common. If Ivy and her fiancé met in college, I’m thinking they have a lot of real-world work to do before they say ‘I do.’”

And it’s hard to do that work while one of them is in Juneau and the other is in Skagway, I think with satisfaction.

“Does she know how you feel about her, Sawyer?”

I look up into the kind, brown eyes of my sister-in-law and shrug.

I think about the summer before last—the summer that McKenna came to Skagway to pose as Tanner’s fiancée, and Hunter fell in love with her best friend, Isabella, and Harper and Joe got back together. There was so much going on with my older siblings, they didn’t notice that I was falling in love, too. And while their love affairs led to engagements and marriages, mine died a swift death in September.

Does Ivy know how I feel about her?

She did. Once upon a time, she knewexactlyhow I felt.

“We haven’t exactly talked in a while,” I say.

“What’s a while?”

I shrug. “The summer before last.”

“Wait.Beforelast?You mean the summer I came to Skagway? Over a year ago? That’s the last time youtalkedto her?”

“Unless you count that one conversation back in May when she told me she was engaged, and I walked away right before telling her she was making the biggest mistake of her life.”

“Oof. Wow. Okay.” She taps her chin in thought.

“What?” I ask, leaning forward in my seat. “What are you thinking?”

“Well, I don’t want to steer you wrong,” she says, waiting a beat before finishing her thought… “But if you care about her, I think it’s time to start talking to her again.”

***

Ivy

Turns out I’ve heard the moviePractical Magicbefore.

Heard,not seen.

During my freshman year at a posh Vancouver boarding school, my roommate was obsessed with this movie, watching it over and over again on her iPad. I know every word of dialogue and every word to every song in the film. I just didn’t know thenameof the movie and can’t ever remember actuallywatchingit. Maybe I blocked it out. That first year away at school was the loneliest of my whole life, and with a life like mine, that’s saying something.

I glance at Jenny, who sits beside me and, for once, isn’t slinging snarky comments in my direction. She watches, entranced, as Sandra Bullock races down the main street of a small New England town, a pack of dogs at her heels, and leaps into the arms of her first love, the local produce man. I blush at their kiss, a full-bodied lust-fest complete with Sandra’s ankles locked around his waist in the middle of broad daylight.

Clark and I don’t kiss like that.

My cheeks flush.

The only person I’veeverkissed like that is—

“Can you get us more popcorn?” murmurs Jenny, bumping the empty tub against my arm, her eyes transfixed on the screen.

“Sure,” I say, taking the paper bucket and side step out of the aisle.

I make my way to the Purple Parsnip bar, where Bruce has set up a popcorn machine. To my dismay, however, it’s beingmanned by Reeve Stewart, who leans her elbows on the bar, flipping through a magazine and looking bored.

“Not a fan of the movie?” I ask her.

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