Page 106 of Past the Broken Bridges

Swallowing, she offers me a subtle nod. “I don’t understand why you’d want me to then.”

I answer the only way I can. “I’m not sure why either, Birdie.”

There’s no way I can describe my will for her to stickaround or the familiarity of her presence whenever she meets my eyes. I feel bad for taking over the moment we just shared and not being more present like she deserved. I want to be better than that—to give her the type of peace she gives me.

Her friendship and kindness offer me hope that I can be the man she deserves one day. Because she’s still here giving me the chance to prove it.

“I’ll never force you to stay, but I’m also not going to tell you to leave. I’d like the company. Today’s been rough. And I wouldn’t mind a…”

What do I call her that doesn’t make what we did weird? I’m never in my head about this kind of shit.

“Friend?” she finishes for me.

I dip my chin. “If you’re still willing to be.”

She finds my hand, squeezing her fingers around mine. “I told you before that nothing has to change. That’s what we said, wasn’t it? What we agreed on?”

I wet my lips. “It is.”

“Then we’re friends.” She lets go of my hand, draws her knees up to her chest, and hugs them close to herself.

Friends.I used to like the sound of that.

When did I stop?

We watch trash TV the rest of the night.

I go to the kitchen and pull out two packets of fruit snacks from my stash in the cupboard.

When I pass her one, she stares at it and says, “These have always been my favorite.”

I swallow. “I know.”

Her eyes meet mine.

Opening mine, I turn to the TV and quietly repeat, “I know, Birdie.”

I can feel her burning gaze on mine.

I don’t ask her about her mom.

Or her past.

I could, but it would ruin the moment.

And I wonder what would change if I knew for sure that this Sawyer was the same one from the past. I’d built her up in my head for years—the girl who saved me without realizing it. Who gave me peace without ever trying.

I don’t want to change anything.

Eventually, she also turns back to the TV.

I stretch her legs out across my lap, absentmindedly stroking my thumb along her shin as we listen to the mindless show.

She falls asleep on the couch.

I carry her to my bed.

And instead of pushing my luck and curling up beside her like I want to, I close the door and crash in the living room.

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