Page 8 of Old Money

“H-hi,” she says with a faint smile.

“Hi, Sawyer,” I say as she climbs in, scooting to the back of the SUV.

“You’re here,” she says, just above a whisper. I smile.

“I am,” I say. “I wanted to check in on you. And meet you, Emily.”

Emily climbs in and takes the seat next to me as I stick my hand out to her.

“Oh, my gosh, Mr. Everett. It is?—”

“Julian, please,” I say, cutting her off. She smiles, and then I see tears in her eyes. She springs across the seat, pulling me in for a long hug. Her perfume smells delicious, and this might be one of the best hugs I’ve ever gotten. I let her sit for a moment, feeling her body move up and down with little sobs.

“Okay, Mom,” Sawyer says, “let him breathe.” I chuckle as Emily lets me go and sits back in her seat.

“I’m sorry,” she says, wiping her eyes as Tyler pulls the car out. “I just… I’m so grateful that you were there when you were. You’re like…you’re like her guardian angel. You will never know how thankful I am.”

Sawyer looks down at her hands and clears her throat as I look back at her.

“No, ma’am,” I say. “She wasmyguardian angel.”

Her eyes lift to mine, and they lock for a moment.

The rest of the ride, Emily is peppering Sawyer with questions. What will she do until classes start back? Is she sure she doesn’t want to come home with her? Is she sure she’ll be alright?

“Emily,” I say, interjecting just as we are pulling into the airport, “I promise you that I will stay in touch with her. She’s not alone over here on the East Coast—I promise you that.”

I look back at her and wink as I reach out and squeeze Emily’s hand.

I don’t know why I feel responsible for her, but it’s more than that. I alsowantto be there for Sawyer. I want to know she’s okay.

“Thank you,” Emily whispers as Tyler opens her door. Sawyer scoots out of the car, and Tyler closes the door to give them some privacy as they say their goodbyes.

“I’ll see you over Thanksgiving?” Emily says. Sawyer nods. They hug one last time, both wiping tears, and then Tyler opens the door again for Sawyer. And as we drive away, I reach over and squeeze her hand.

“Have you been in touch with any of your friends any more?” I ask cautiously. I know it’s obviously a sensitive subject.

She nods.

“There’s a vigil on campus in a few weeks,” she says. “A few of us are supposed to be going together.”

I nod.

“That’ll be good for you to all be together,” I tell her. There’s a little bit of a silence, and then I tap her shoulder. “I meant what I said to your mother, Sawyer. You’re not alone.” Her eyes meet mine again, and she nods.

“Thank you, Julian,” she whispers, although I know that, right now, all she feels is probably alone. “They’ve canceled classes for the rest of the semester. Eight weeks of no classes to distract me. That’ll be interesting.”

I think for a moment.

I can think of a few things to keep her busy…

God, I’m a pig. What the fuck is wrong with me? She’s sad and vulnerable and alone—no. She might be sad and vulnerable, but she won’t be alone. I’ll make sure of it.

“Did you have anything you wanted to do for the rest of the week?” I ask.

She laughs and shrugs. “I don’t get out much,” she says. “And things cost money. So I typically just lay low. Most of my friends are still with their families. We’re not allowed back on campus until Saturday, so I was just going to hang at the hotel.”

I nod again.

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