‘Nothing,’ I croak out, throat lodged with too many memories. With the realisation that maybeIleft the deepest scars on him. That even after all these years, I’ve been with him. When I’ve been checking up on his bull-riding career, I’ve already unknowingly been at every single event, the memory of me carried through the ink.
‘You’re lying.’
‘And you’re drunk.’
He shakes his head as he hiccups. ‘Not possible. I have a rule.’
‘A rule?’
‘Yep, Duke swaps my drinks for non-alcol—’ he stumbles over the word, brows knitting together as he uses all his effort to sound the word out slowly ‘—al-co-ho-lic ones after I’ve had three. Has done for years. Don’t wanna be like my dad.’
But Duke wasn’t there tonight. Well, that explains how he got so drunk.
‘Come on. You need to sleep.’ I take his hands and drag him back towards the bed, letting go to lift the sheets. When he pouts at me and doesn’t get in straight away, I perk astern brow and he immediately caves, flopping onto the mattress.
I pull the sheets up over him as his eyes already start to flutter closed. ‘Goodnight, Sawyer.’
His fingers brush mine just as I turn away, tangling between them. ‘Stay.’
‘What?’
‘Stay,’ he insists, tightening his grasp on my hand.
‘You’re so demanding, you know that?’
‘And you’re so perfect, you know that?’ he argues back, pouting again, eyes still shut.
He’s seconds away from passing out. I know if I left he’d only care for a short moment and then be fast asleep, likely forgetting he even asked me to stay by the time he’s awake and dealing with the pounding headache he’ll no doubt have in the morning. Except, when my eyes land on that lips tattoo on his collar bone, peeking out from the sheets, I’m reminded of the man I once loved.
The man I have to leave behind again when I go back to my apartment and real life. The man I once wished I could wake up to every day. So, I let myself indulge one last time, and slipping under the sheets beside him becomes the easiest decision I ever made.
21
Honey (Flashback)
May, Senior Year
It’s gone midnight and I can’t sleep. I went to bed over three hours ago, spending my night yet again in the same bleak bedroom as always, unlike the rest of my senior year who got to dance and sing and make memories I’ll never have. At this point, they’re probably all at after-parties, engaging in God knows what to celebrate their final year. Including Sawyer, who couldn’t believe I’ve never been allowed to go to prom before.
I’d be lying if I said I’d been thinking about our whole senior year at prom, because the only person plaguing my thoughts has been him. Wondering who he might’ve danced with, whether he got the crown for prom king like he wanted, what party he’s gone to with all his friends.
Which girls will be getting his attention tonight, while I’m locked away in my bedroom. Same old quiet, little Honey Goldman.
Ugh. Why do I have to care so much about him?
I know my parents don’t want me getting involved with boys for far more reasons than to stop me from worrying who they’re dancing with at prom, but I really wish I’d listened to them more now. At least I might be able to get some sleep then.
I throw my notebook down onto my bed and curl my knees up to my chest, wrapping my arms around them to give myself a comforting hug. I had to wait until my parents’ light went off before I could turn my lamp back on and pick up my notebook and pen to try to keep my mind off Sawyer and prom by writing a new story about Georgia Hart. But alas, she offers me no escape tonight. Not when I can’t help myself from writing her finally bumping into the brave and strong Noah Stetson—and then,boom, my mind instantly goes back to Sawyer.
Closing my eyes, I lean my head back against the wall, praying for exhaustion to sweep me into a slumber already. There’s a deep ache in my bones that proves I’m tired, but my mind isn’t ready to sleep yet—
Three taps sound at my window.
My eyes shoot open.
Normally, I’d blame it on the overgrown branches of the big oak tree that sits beside the house that like to dance about when the breeze picks up, but Father cut them back just the other week …
Hesitantly, I slip my legs out of the bed, seeking my slippers with my toes while keeping my eyes trained on the curtains that obscure the window.