It was the moment I knew I’d never truly belong in Blue Ridge.
“You might not believe this, Brie, but that was the worst night of my life. I went to the dance alone, determined to ignore you. But the second I saw you, I knew I couldn’t. You were so beautiful. I couldn’t stop myself from going to you and asking you to dance.”
The perfect memory of him standing in front of me that night, hand outstretched, causes my stomach to drop. I’d been so shocked, couldn’t believe it was real, but dancing with Sawyer felt so good.
“It was everything,” he says. “Getting to hold you was . . . everything. I finally got exactly what I wanted after years of fighting it.”
“Sawyer, I’m still not getting it. If it was so fantastic like you say, why did it turn out the way it did?” Because that night I lived out the best moments of my young life, and the worst.
He looks up at the ceiling and shakes his head faintly. “God, it sounds so juvenile. We were dancing, and I got hard.”
“You . . . got hard.” Did I hear that right?
“I was embarrassed and I didn’t want you to feel it, so I pushed you away. Then, I heard my friends behind me laughing, and I was terrified they saw right through me. Knew exactly how much I wanted you. All I could do was picture my father’s face, red and angry, the words he always spat at me when he was mad.” His expression hardens. “So I saved face. Said those disgusting words that’ve haunted me for years.”
“You humiliated me . . . because you got a boner?” Iknow I’m simplifying here, I know there’s more at play, but . . . come on.
He swallows. “I’d give anything to take it back. I’m so ashamed of my behavior.”
Since coming back to Blue Ridge, I’ve been cautious around Sawyer, certain he’s playing some kind of game that’ll result in agotchamoment where I’ll end up mortified.
But this is no game. His face is drawn, haggard almost. Like this has been weighing on him for a lifetime.
I believe him.
“Brie, I was lost back then. It wasn’t just my dad, but the whole town expected me to worship the ground my dad walked on, then follow in his footsteps. They expected certain things of me, tried to fit me into their preconceived box of who I should be.”
My breath hitches because I know exactly what that’s like. The town expecting me to be—no,telling meI was—something I wasn’t. The fact Sawyer felt the same pressure never occurred to me because . . . he was the prince.
Looking back, every awful interaction back then only ever happened when his friends were there, watching. Most of the time, it wasn’t even himdoingthe thing, but looking on, stony-faced, as Rich acted like a jerk. His loud mouth, his evil smirk, they were a mask he wore for them.
“Look, Brie, I don’t expect you to forgive me. I know better than that. But I’m glad you know. Words are worthless, but if it helps, I’m so sorry.” He winces. “Fuck, that’s so weak. But I am. So fucking sorry, Brie.”
I swallow thickly. I used toknowSawyer had the perfect life growing up. Iknewhe was always in charge, always the lauded one, always sure of himself.
Just like everyone else, I put him in a box he didn’t belong in.
But I can see it now. He’s laid it open for me, the pain clear on his face.
Back then, Sawyer was larger than life. He never seemed like a kid even when he was one. But it’s clear from his sadness now he regrets each and every one of his actions. Maybe that pain has been there all along, but it’s only now that I can see past the man in front of me to the child he was.
My heart breaks for that little kid.
Sawyer was achild. The child to a hard, loathsome man, who fed him his personal brand of bigotry. Subjecting him to years of indoctrination.
And he’s right, it wasn’t just his dad. Back then, the town itself was a mirror of the mayor. I felt it in their stares, their whispers behind my back. And Sawyer would’ve been under the most pressure to join them, to ridicule me.
In one blinding moment, I see it: Sawyer and I are the same. Both of our dads were shitty role models, if for different reasons. Both of us had reputations in the town to live up to. And both of us suffered because of it.
I don’t know why it never occurred to me before. I teach kids every day. I see them do stupid, thoughtless, sometimes cruel things to one another. And I never hold it against them, instead giving them grace to learn and grow.
It took the students in my class at Everett Academy meredaysto begin calling me names when my back was turned. They never questioned whether any of what they heard about me was true because they trusted their parents implicitly. But I still don’t blame them, even if I wasn’t strong enough to stay and help them be better.
I was never able to give Sawyer the same grace—ofcourse I wasn’t, I was a kid too. But he was never encouraged to learn or grow from his actions either. He was encouraged to keep at it.
Yet Sawyer was still able to claw his way out of his inculcation. He didn’t just run away from Blue Ridge like I did. He questioned all that was drilled into him, and he came back to help build a better town, the next generation. That makes him stronger than I ever was.
I step toward him. He’s sitting on the edge of the bed, head in his hands, looking miserable. There’s still so much more to talk about—we’ve barely scratched the surface. But in this moment, all I want is for him to know I get it now. His actions since I’ve been back, the hot and the cold, the saving and the retreating. It all fits now.
