CHAPTER 16
sawyer
I could have, and probably should have, waited till Tuesday and driven home from Dallas on a full night’s sleep. The idea of staying away from Hendrix another day, though… I couldn’t do it.
His mom had texted me, sending selfies from the Sunday brunch she’d shared with Hendrix, Kiyana, Preston, Ozzie, Walker, and Sheriff Cavanaugh. Hendrix sat between his parents, wearing his usual black-on-black with eyeliner and nail polish. His lazy smirk was the thing that pulled me home early, together with the second picture, which showed Sheriff Cavanaugh locked in a kiss with Portia.
Portia:It’s official, Ryan and I are back together.
Portia:I hope Hendrix learns to stop blaming himself for our divorce, but he seemed happy for us.
I thought it was interesting that she offered that commentary unprompted, like she knew that I’d be wondering how Hendrix was taking it. My happiness for them was primarily selfish—Hendrix would never let go of his guilt otherwise.
It would take a lot for him to be fully convinced that their divorce wasn’t his fault, but this was progress. Still, I needed to see him for myself.
I stepped into the cabin and was puzzled to find candles burning but no sign of Hendrix. “Hen?” I called out, carrying my overnight bag to my room.
The sound of a guitar filtered in from the back, so I blew out the candles, changed into jeans and a long-sleeved T-shirt, and walked barefoot out onto the porch.
“Why did you leave candles burning? That’s a fire hazard.”
“Sorry,” he said, his voice a little slurred. “I was in a candle mood earlier.”
He’d sometimes light candles when he was feeling low or meditative, and I wondered which he was tonight. That’s when I noticed a cooler by his feet, along with a few empty Shiner bottles. “Are you okay?”
“That is an interesting question. Did you know about my parents getting back together?”
“I suspected it might be in the cards. And your mom and I communicated while I was in Dallas, so I’m officially up to date.”
“Oh.”
I contemplated him as he continued to strum softly. “Are you not happy about it?”
“I am happy about it.” He shook his head. “And I’m confused.”
A string twanged. He examined the head of the guitar and fiddled with one of the tuning keys. “Goddamned thing won’t stay in tune,” he muttered.
“Confused how?” I asked, making a mental note to take the guitar back to the shop to see if they could do anything about it.
“Confused because I’d never known love could be that way,” he singsonged in time with his renewed strumming. “Like, my mother loved me so much that she left the man she’d adored since they were in high school. And only when he fully accepted me, only then did she take him back.”
He played a short chord progression. “I’ve never stopped loving you,” he sang under his breath, pausing to scratch something in his notebook. “But you made me choose, and that was the only way we could ever lose…”
He scowled at the page, then set the notebook aside. “Nothing about her feelings for him ever withered. Like, she would date and have boyfriends—nice ones, you know?—but she never stopped loving him.”
“You don’t get a lot of say in the person you love,” I noted, sitting next to him.
“My record speaks for itself, so I’m just guessing here, but…” he started, then took a long, heavy breath. “But even if you don’t have a lot of control overwhoyou love, you must at least have some say inwhatthat love looks like.”
I held out my hand, tilting it side to side. “More or less. I suppose they could have allowed their love to mellow into simple friendship. Maybe.” I thought about what I’d seen over the last few months. “I’m glad they went this route, though. I suspect that your mom wasn’t the only one who’d been in love all these years. From what I saw in the selfies she sent me, they seem much happier now that they’re back together.”
Hendrix started fiercely plucking at individual strings, no melody, just angst. “They went on and on about how I wasn’t to blame for their divorce. How am I supposed to believe that horseshit?”
I reached out and put my hand on his, silencing the guitar. After a moment, he set the instrument between his chair and the railing and finally looked at me. The sight of the little red veins around his dark irises made my stomach turn in on itself, and I knew I’d been right to come back early.
He could be thrilled about their reunion, and it would still bring up heavy shit he’d never fully processed.
I slid my fingers between his. “Are you taking credit for them getting back together?”
