I smile. “Make sure you heat up the fish and tortillas before you add the slaw and sauce. Otherwise, they’ll get gross.”
“Yes, chef.”
“If they still taste okay, let your mom try one. Maybe she’ll hate me a little less, if you ever tell her everything that happened between us.”
His expression turns serious. “No one hates you, Wren.”
“You do,” I whisper. “After how I … left.”
“I hate how you left. I don’t hate you. I never have.”
I suck my lower lip in my mouth. “Can I kiss you?”
He raises one eyebrow. “You’ve never asked for permission before.”
“It was a yes-or-no question.”
Sawyer chuckles, then kisses me. When our mouths separate, he says, “You never have to ask, Wren.”
Then he turns and heads for his house. I’m pretty sure I see Addison duck away from the front window as he heads across the yard.
This was exactly how it looked when we ended before—me watching him walk away. But this feels different, feels more like a start than an ending, and I really hope it is.
I’m not sure I’ll survive the alternative a second time.
44
“Have you seen much of Wren this summer?”
I glance at the clock on the stove between bites. “Congrats, Mom. You lasted a whole twenty minutes without asking about her.”
“She’s the only girl you’ve ever brought home, Sawyer. Of course I’m going to ask. Are you two back together?”
“We were never together.”
“Well, you seemed together when I met her before. And just now.”
“We’re … friends.”
“You’ve never kissed Gus in the front yard.”
I aim a disbelieving look her way. “You were spying on us?”
“I glanced out the window.”
I scoff, heaping more sauce on my taco. “That’s suspicious timing.”
“If my opinion matters, I approve. She seems like a sweet girl.”
I hum, chewing. If my mouth wasn’t full, I might laugh. Not onlybecausesweetis not an adjective I’d use to describe Wren—dynamic,gorgeous,dazzlingall seem like better descriptors—but because I truly don’t get why Wren thinks everyone in my life hates her. Yeah, she left without much of an explanation. But we hadn’t been dating. She didn’t owe me anything. I owe her, probably, since Gus has always insisted she’s the reason the Coast Guard showed up the night Wade and I were caught in that storm. I’ve never even thanked her for however she pulled that off. I was too busy being bitter about how easily she left me behind.
“You should invite her over for dinner,” Mom continues. “I’d like to get to know her better.”
I swallow. “She’s leaving tomorrow.”
“Oh. Will she be back later this summer? I’m home for the next two months.”
“No, she won’t.”
