Page 116 of A Me and You Thing
I have my driver stop at a grocery store and I pick up enough food and supplies to last me for a few days.
I’m headed to our cabin. I’m hoping the memories stored there will wrap their arms around me and comfort me.
The cabin is musty when I arrive. It’s obvious no one has been here during the two years I was thought to be dead. In many ways, the thought makes me happy. This was mine and Sawyer’s hideout. I’m glad he didn’t bring anyone else up here.
Namely Bree.
I open all the windows and spend the first hour cleaning it from top to bottom, ensuring there are no creepy crawlies lurking in the corners. And you know what? I’m a little tired after all that work, but I feel perfectly fine. The mountain air is invigorating. I feel healthy and rejuvenated. The doctor was right. I am going to regain my health.
Just not my life.
No, that’s not true. I have my baby girls. They are my happiness. In time, they’ll need me as much as I need them. I know it will happen. It’s already started to happen. It’s inevitable. The thought brings me a great deal of comfort.
I look around and I’m reminded of how much I love our cabin. It’s a small A-frame structure with just two bedrooms, a kitchen, and a small living area. We bought it when we were first married as a mountain-getaway destination, a place to escape our lives and concentrate on us. Our parents laughed at us because we live in a getaway destination—and they were right. But our romance blossomed in this little cabin. Some of my best memories of us happened here. Right now, I need those memories to carry me through this rough spot.
There I go being delusional. I think this may be a lot more than a rough spot. I think this might be the end of us. I can’t even imagine life without Sawyer. Without him, half of me will always be missing.
He’s having a hard time letting go of Bree. Maybe he chose the wrong girl that day on his boat, the day he met Bree first. Maybe he’s realized he’s more suited to her.
I can’t fight him if he loves someone else now. That’s his choice. I need to stand back and let him live his life.
But I will fight for my girls. They can’t keep me away from them. If they try, they will have a fight on their hands. I won’t back down. Not for a minute. They’ll find out I have a little bit of Scarlett in me after all.
Sawyer didn’t defend me when Bree accused me of not properly watching the girls. He wouldn’t even let me watch Josie while they went to the emergency room. I know he was worried about Jordyn, and therefore preoccupied. But, still. Brutal. He may as well have stabbed me in the heart.
Once everything is in order in the cabin, I don’t know what to do with myself. Usually Sawyer is here and we’re wrapped up in each other. Literally. I don’t want to break down and cry again. I’m sick of crying.
There’s a slight mountain chill in the air, so I start a fire. Then I grab my suitcase and unpack, hanging my clothes in the closet. I notice the bulge in the front zippered pocket and remember my scarf.
I pull it out, hating the feel of it against my fingers, hating everything it represents.
That life is over. I’ll never have to face it again. I no longer have any desire to save the vile thing. I walk to the fireplace and toss it in. As I watch it slowly melt and burn, the symbolism is not lost on me.
I am not Niña. I’m Quinn.
I make myself comfortable in the hearthside recliner. I grab Sawyer’s jacket and use it as a blanket because it makes me feel close to him. I stare into the flames and lose myself in thought.Soñadorastrikes again.
But I’m not daydreaming. I’m thinking back on every nuance of Sawyer’s behavior since I arrived home. His Fletcher Christian gaze. His constant declarations of love. His obvious desire to kiss me. His hesitation at kissing me. His giving in as he kissed me thoroughly. Telling me he’s going to be noble. Holding me all night. Saying he won’t sleep in the same bed until Bree leaves. Constantly trying to smooth things over with Bree. Spending nearly all day with Bree. Not trusting me with our daughters.
What does it all mean? I’m not even sure he knows the answer to that question. I think he’s confused. He’s being pulled in two different directions and I honestly don’t know who will win the tug of war.
I sigh as my thoughts return to my little Jordyn. I hope my baby’s okay. I long to be with her.
I wish I could cry. But if I start, I won’t be able to stop. I’ll be a miserable creature, broken and pathetic and sad.
Triste.
I need to be strong and face my life. There are several things I know for sure. First fact, Sawyer thought I was dead and moved on. Good for him. I want him to be happy. I do. I wish it wasn’t Bree, though. That’s a hard pill to swallow. But at least he’s happy.
So be it.
Second fact, I think I need to let Sawyer go. I’m holding onto him with tightly gripped fists and he’s trying to stay in my grasp, but he’s clearly not happy. I hate seeing him so tortured. Time to set him free. Give him permission to choose and not feel obligated to me.
I hate that our life has turned out this way. It makes me feel sick to my stomach. But I’m not the only one who can choose theright thing to do.
So I’ll do it.
I take a deep breath and let it out, as if it will allow all of my heartache to be released. It doesn’t work. It never will. Living with heartache is part of the human experience, part of being alive.
