For the Save (Playing for Keeps #4) (10 page)

Sawyer

Addison wasn’t in the quad during lunch. In fact, she wasn’t anywhere on campus. I know because I searched for her the entire lunch period. She hadn’t returned any of my texts since our date on Saturday night, and I was determined to talk with her. I figured I could corner her at school. Make her listen to me. But that was impossible to do if I couldn’t find her.

“She’s still avoiding you, huh?” Holden asked when I finally gave up and plunked down on the grass next to him and Chloe.

Their hands were linked between them, and it made my stomach clench. Chloe’s dark hair batted in the breeze, whipping into Holden’s face. The contents of their half-eaten lunches spread out between their legs. Sighing, I nodded.

“Sorry, man,” Holden said, giving me a sympathetic nod of his head.

“Give her time,” Chloe said, popping a grape into her mouth.

A glimmer of hope sparked. “You think she’ll come around?”

Chloe smiled. “She’s mad now, but she’ll get over it. Trust me.”

I wanted to believe her, but I wasn’t sure I did. “How can you be sure?”

“I saw the way she looked at you on Saturday night.” Her gaze flickered over to Holden. “She really likes you, Sawyer.”

My heart jumped at her words. In my mind I conjured up the memory of the way Addison smiled at me that night. Fisting my hands at my sides, familiar anger rose up inside of me. If only I hadn’t messed it all up.

“Hey, you’ve gotta stop beating yourself up, man,” Holden interrupted as if reading my thoughts. “You made a mistake, but you were trying to do the right thing.”

He was right, but I wasn’t sure Addison would see it the same way. “What do you think, Chloe? Would you have forgiven Holden for something like this when you first started dating?”

They exchanged knowing glances. Sometimes the ease in which they interacted caused envy to creep up on me. It was like they didn’t even need words to communicate. Like their souls spoke to one another. I used to find it creepy. Now I was desperate to have the same connection with someone. Well, not someone. It used to be someone. A nameless, faceless someone. But now my desire had a face. And it was Addison’s. I wanted that connection with Addison.

“Yes, I definitely would’ve forgiven him.” She smiled. “I forgave him for a lot when we first started dating.”

I remembered how mean Ryan had been about Holden’s relationship with Chloe, and I was sure he hadn’t made things easy between them. In fact, there was one big fight between Chloe and Holden that was completely Ryan and my fault. I had to step in and take the rightful blame. And I did.

It gave me encouragement. If Chloe could forgive Holden for all the crap he put her through, surely Addison could forgive me.

“But he was persistent,” Chloe added.

My gaze bounced to hers. “Weren’t you the one telling me to give her space?”

“And you should for the next couple of days,” Chloe said. “Give her time to miss you. And during that time think of a way to show her how sorry you are.”

I thought of all the grand gestures Holden did for Chloe. How he swept her off her feet in front of everyone at a football game while she was in her marching band uniform. Now I understood why. It must have been part of the reason she forgave him. Nodding, I knew what she was saying. But I couldn’t use Holden’s tactics. They were unique to his relationship with Chloe. Besides, Addison wouldn’t react well to me putting her on display. She didn’t want attention. And she certainly didn’t want attention from the entire school. I had to show her how much I cared in a way that she would respond to. Chewing on my bottom lip, I mulled this over. As the bell pealed signaling the end of lunch, it hit me.

I knew exactly what to do.

With a groan, I crumpled up the piece of binder paper and tossed it into the trash can. It was now overflowing with wadded up balls of paper. I’d been sitting on top of my bed for hours trying to come up with a poem that would knock Addison’s socks off. So far I’d come up with a few one-liners that would probably make her laugh. And not because they were jokes, or even meant to be funny, but because my poetry sucked so royally bad.

I rolled my neck, working out the kinks from being bent over my notebook for so long. Then I dropped my pen and wriggled out my fingers. Staring down at the blank sheet of paper in front of me, my stomach dropped. I wasn’t good with words like Addison. Why did I ever think this would work?

My mind traveled back to when I’d first kissed Addison. I remembered how she kissed me back so passionately, so hungrily. There was no way I could give up now.

Addison would never respond to grand gestures. She liked private. She liked simple. And she liked poetry. She was never going to welcome a conversation with me right now. If I showed up at her house demanding to talk, she’d slam the door in my face. The only way to tell her how I felt was through the written word. This way she’d have time to mull it over, time to ponder it.

But it would also require me becoming a much better writer than I was in a very short period of time. Picking up my pen, I stuck the end of it in my mouth and chomped down hard. This felt like homework. And I’d never been very good at homework. It wasn’t that I hated to do it. Focusing was tough for me. Organizing my thoughts was difficult.

But I had to do it.

For Addison.

Glancing around my room, I realized that nothing in here was going to help me. My walls were covered in football posters, my dresser carrying sports memorabilia. Not exactly romance central. I thought of Addison’s pink, frilly room, and my lips twitched. My gaze landed on my Ipod, and I paused remembering Addison’s confession about how she liked country music.

Country music was full of love songs, right?

Scrambling off my bed, I snatched up my Ipod. With my thumb I scrolled through my playlist until I found the perfect album. After putting earbuds in my ears, I pressed play on the first song and sat back allowing the music to blanket me. I hummed along for a few minutes and then reached for the notebook. Images of Addison flooded my mind, and I scribbled down the first words I could think of.

It was attraction at first.

A want, a need, a desire.

A tiny spark that became a flame.

And then an all-consuming fire.

I know I’ve messed up, made mistakes.

But every day without you is long and empty.

Every thought of you causing my heart to ache.

We are alike, we are the same.

I meant when I said I was all in.

This isn’t just fun and games.

I’m not going anywhere, not running away.

And I’m begging you, Addie.

Please stay.

Reading back over it, I knew it was lame. But it was how I felt. It was true. And it was a hell of a lot better than what I’d written before. Without second guessing myself or trashing this one too, I stood up and went to my computer. Clicking it on, it rebooted, coming to life. Once the screen turned on, I pulled up a blank word document. I knew Addison would never be able to decipher my handwriting. Hell, I could hardly read it, and I was the one who wrote it.

With shaky hands, I typed up the poem. By the time I finished, nerves had sufficiently eaten through my stomach and my palms were filled with sweat. This was way worse than pre-game jitters. I was pretty sure I was close to hurling. Never in a million years would I have believed I’d be this nervous over a girl.

But Addison wasn’t just a girl.

She meant something to me. And no one was more surprised by this than I was.

I printed out the poem and then plucked it up. Holding it between my fingers, I headed out of my room and out the front door of my house. Taking a deep breath, I stepped toward the “Barney Mobile.” It was now or never.

I would deliver the poem to Addison and then pray she would forgive me.

Addison

It was impossible to miss the “Barney Mobile” as it came careening down my street. I had been standing in the front yard puffing on a cigarette. Mom was out running errands (or so she said) and I had assumed I would have some time to myself. I’d returned from Kevin’s, but no one was home. It was the second time I’d gone over to his house. Both times I’d come up empty. And I’d sent him a message on Facebook and Instagram, but got no response. After Sawyer told me about Ben and Dad’s fight, I was certain that Kevin had answers. Surely Ben had told me about the argument. They were best friends, after all. If only I could call him. I was sure Ben had his number programmed into his phone. Too bad Ben’s phone had been missing ever since his death. One more thing that didn’t make sense to me.

Sawyer was the last person I expected to show up at my house. Not after I’d made it clear I didn’t want to see him again. I thought of throwing down my cigarette and running into the house, but it was too late. He’d already spotted me and was pulling over to the curb. Remembering how much he hated when I smoked, I held onto my cigarette and wore a smug grin. Maybe this would repel him once and for all.

My heart pinched a little at the thought. Damn, it was always betraying me. I should want him out of my life after what he did. So why did my heart long for him?

Leaning against the tree trunk, I took a long drag from my cigarette and watched Sawyer step out of the car. As the car door slammed behind him, I exhaled. Smoke streamed from my lips, and vanished into the air. Momentary regret seized me as Sawyer neared me.

He looked sinfully good in jeans and a tight t-shirt, his hair slightly messy, his eyes piercing mine as if they could see into my very soul. I swallowed hard. As he stepped closer, I dropped my cigarette into the grass and stomped it out with the toe of my shoe.

Sawyer’s gaze fell to it, and a look of disgust passed over his features. My chest tightened.

I crossed my arms over my chest. “Save the lecture. I know all about the dangers of smoking. And I’m not in the mood.”

He shook his head, sadness flickering in his eyes. “I didn’t come here to fight with you, Addison.”

I knew I had asked him not to call me Addie anymore, but the formality in his words cut to my heart. “Then why did you come?” Inside I wanted nothing more than to grab him, to kiss his lips, to beg him to hold me. I wanted to feel his arms around me. I was desperate for the safety and security only he could give me. But then I remembered his words to Holden, and I held back. No, it was better this way.

“To give you this.”

I flinched when he held out his hand, and his face fell.

“Shit, Addison. I’m not gonna hit you.” His face darkened. “Why did you react that way? Has someone hurt you?”

The protectiveness in his tone drew me to him even more. It took all my willpower to keep my distance. “No,” I responded softly. Then I took the paper that dangled from his fingers. Our hands brushed swiftly, and my pulse quickened. “What is it?”

“It’s for you. Just read it when you can.” With a regretful smile, he turned around and walked back toward his van.

Even though I was mad at him, I couldn’t help but admire his butt as it hugged his jeans. Then I shook away the inappropriate thoughts and glanced down at the paper in my hand. While the engine on the “Barney Mobile” roared to life in the background, I carefully unfolded the page. When my gaze connected with the first few typed words I realized it was a poem.

Brows furrowed, I peered up, watching Sawyer drive away from my house and down the street. I had no idea Sawyer wrote poetry. He’d never mentioned it before. Perplexed, I returned my attention to the poem he’d penned.

As I read it, tears threatened to fill my eyes. It was a good thing he’d left. If he was standing in front of me, I’d never be able to contain myself. As it stood, I wanted to race into my car, drive to find him, and kiss him hard. And maybe I should have.  No one had ever written anything so beautiful for me. And I wanted to reward him for that. Hell, I wanted to hold onto him and never let go.

But I still wasn’t sure that was smart. My heart had already been stomped on enough this year. With Ben killing himself and Dad taking off, it was more than I could take. I’d lost the only two guys that had ever meant anything to me. And now, here I was, allowing another guy access to my life, my heart. I knew I was opening myself up to hurt the minute our lips fused together, sending off a spark of electricity that could light up this whole town. But when I heard him talking to Holden, it hit me, slamming into me like a mack truck. Sawyer’s betrayal had the power to obliterate me. He had the power to smash my heart into tiny pieces, and I wasn’t sure I’d ever recover.

And that’s why I had to stay away.

It was the only way to protect myself.

Still I didn’t want to throw away the poem. I would keep it. It would remind me that once in my life there was a guy willing to stay with me. That there was one person on this whole earth that didn’t run away from me at their first opportunity. Too bad I had to run away from him.

Shoulders slumped, I trudged into the house. The scent of smoke clung to my hair and skin as I stepped inside. It was more apparent in here among the scent of potpourri and bleach. Closing the door, emptiness enveloped me. The toe of my shoe hit something, and it flew across the floor. Following it, I bent over and picked it up.

It was a scrap of paper with an address written on it in Mom’s handwriting. I had suspected that Mom was visiting Dad when she took off unannounced. My heart plummeted at the thought. So it really was only me that he was staying away from. A sob tore from the back of my throat. Ben had always been his favorite, but I’d thought we were close too. Apparently I’d been wrong. When Dad first left, I blamed Mom. After hearing their fight, I was certain he left because of her. But when I asked her why he hadn’t at least told me where he was going, or why he hadn’t called me, she said it was too hard for him to be around me right now. Said I reminded him too much of Ben, of what he’d lost.

Ben and I were spitting images of each other, right down to our blond hair and green eyes. It was one of the reasons I dyed my hair. I thought maybe if I didn’t resemble Ben anymore that Dad could be around me.

But now I knew he was seeing Mom, and he still didn’t want to see me.

Taking a deep breath, I wiped the traces of tears from my face. Then I stared at the handwritten address. Dad may not have wanted to face me, but he didn’t have a choice. I was his daughter, damn it. And he had an obligation to me.

Spinning around, I headed back outside, the scrap of paper with the address in one hand, the poem in the other. With renewed purpose, I stalked toward the empty car parked in the driveway, keys jangling in my pocket.

It was time to get some answers.

The house wasn’t far from ours. It was in the same subdivision that many of my former friends lived in. It was cute. Smaller than ours. A “FOR RENT” sign was stuck in the middle of the front lawn. As I got out of the car, I wondered why the sign wasn’t taken down. Mom’s car was parked in front of mine, another car was in the driveway. I didn’t recognize it, and my heart pinched. Had Dad gotten a new car too? A new house, a new car. What else was new?

Pulse racing, I hurried up the walkway. The wooden stairs creaked as I made my way to the porch. The door was unlocked, so I stepped inside. When my gaze scoured the room, confusion filled me. It was empty, not one piece of furniture in sight. Perhaps Dad hadn’t moved in yet. But if that was the case, where had he been staying all this time?

Voices carried from down the hall, male and female. I inched forward, moving toward them. Dad had always been happy to see me. When I was little, I would wait at the window for him to return home from work. The minute he walked in the door I’d launch myself at him. A large smile would sweep across his face as he took me in his arms. But I wasn’t expecting that same response today. Clearly, he didn’t want to see me. If that were the case, he would’ve contacted me. He wouldn’t be meeting with Mom in private.

With each step anger grew, spreading like weeds in a garden. I had almost reached the room where they were speaking when Mom stepped out into the hallway. Her eyes widened upon seeing me. A figure came up behind her, and I glanced up. A gasp sounded at the back of my throat. He wasn’t Dad.

“What’s going on?” I asked Mom, my tone accusatory.

“I could ask you the same thing.” Her face clouded over. “How did you know where I was?”

The man appeared uncomfortable. He wore a suit and held a briefcase in his hand. Moving around Mom, he cleared his throat. “I’ll give you two a moment.”

When he was out of earshot, I turned on Mom. “You dropped the address on the ground. I thought maybe it was Dad’s address.”

“Oh, honey.” A look of pity crossed her features.

I didn’t want it, so I shook my head. “What are you doing here? What is this?”

“I was going to talk to you about it later tonight.”

“Tell me now.”

Mom took a deep breath as if drawing courage. “I’m renting this house.”

“What? But we own our house. Why would we move?”

“We’re selling it.” She shook her head. “I can’t live there anymore. It’s too painful.”

I couldn’t argue with that. The place was seriously depressing. But what about Dad? I always pictured him coming back, us being a family again. “Does Dad know?”

She nodded.

Fear lodged in my throat. It was like I knew the answer, but I had to ask. “Is he going to live with us here?”

“No, honey. I’m sorry.”

“Never?”

“It’s over, Addie.”

“Addison!” I corrected. That name was painful before. Now it was downright torturous.

Mom paused, her chest heaving. “We’re getting divorced.”

“Whose idea was that?’

“Both of ours.” She forced a smile. “It’s for the best. Trust me.”

This was bullshit.
I spun around, tears in my eyes. I had to get out of here. Stumbling out of the house, I staggered down the walkway and hurried to my car. I could hear Mom calling after me, but there was no way I was turning around. As I drove away from the house that would soon be ours, loneliness swallowed me up.

And I realized I had no one.

I’d never felt so alone in my entire life.