9. Leah

CHAPTER 9

LEAH

Spending holidays together has been a tradition Shane, Taylor, Lauren, and I have tried to uphold ever since we were in grade school. If we couldn't see each other on Thanksgiving due to having to spend it with our actual families, we'd see each other the day after, and we made a pact to always spend Christmas Eve eve together as long as we were all in town. It's been over ten years and we've successfully done so—even with spouses and babies coming into the picture. Ruby has also officially become part of our family and I love how much it keeps growing.

"Mr. and Mrs. Gates we're so glad you could make it." Taylor squeezes my mom and dad as soon as we walk through the front door of her and Tucker's house.

"Taylor, sweetheart, please call me Loretta," Mom insists.

"I'll try but old habits die hard so forgive me if it takes a few times to get comfy calling you Loretta." Taylor smiles brightly as she takes her coat.

"I'm Tucker, it's a pleasure to meet you both." Tucker offers his hand to my dad and brings my mom in for a hug.

"Would either of you like a glass of wine or some sweet tea?" Taylor offers.

"We have beer as well if that's more your speed," Tucker chimes in, holding his beer bottle up.

"Now you're talking." My dad nods and the two of them head for the kitchen.

"Tea sounds wonderful." Taylor links arms with my mom like they're the best of friends, handing me my mom's coat as the two of them walk to the kitchen together.

"Sure Tay, I'll hang these in the laundry room," I call after her, holding our coats out. "And yes, I would like a glass of wine." She turns around and sticks her tongue out at me like we're in middle school and I can't help but laugh.

"I could grab you that drink." Sawyer's smooth voice echoes from behind me and I feel my heart flip inside my chest. I roll my eyes and turn around to see him standing at his six-foot-four, perfect height, his long brown hair perfectly messy, and a long sleeve gray thermal shirt hugging his body in all the right places. It really pisses me off that he has the audacity to walk around looking so damn dreamy all the time.

"I'd rather dehydrate, thanks." I glare at him and give him a sarcastic smirk, but he simply returns it with one of his own. Letting his eyes roam over my body before settling on my face again. When he leans in closer I feel my breath catch in my throat.

"You're being really stubborn; you know that right?" Regardless of the way his proximity is making it difficult to focus on anything other than how good he smells, I'm surprisingly able to gather myself long enough to form a coherent sentence.

"At least I'm being truthful ." I raise a brow, challenging him to try and argue with me. His jaw begins to tick, and his eyes grow darker.

"I don't think you're ready for my truth, Dove."

"Says who?" Oh my god what am I, in middle school?

"You still dating the teacher?" he asks, with contempt filling every word. My brows knit together, wondering why that's relevant to him telling me whatever truth it is he thinks I'm not ready for.

"Yes."

"Then you're not ready." With a wink he walks away leaving me utterly confused and frustrated. I should have turned and walked away the second I heard his voice. I should have hung up our coats and joined everyone else in the kitchen and paid him no mind. Then I wouldn't be sitting here wondering what the hell he can't tell me just because I'm dating Jackson—and utterly desperate to find out.

UGHHHHH. Freaking Sawyer.

"Let's go around the table and say what we're thankful for!" Shane exclaims from her seat at the oversized dining room table.

I didn't have to try too hard to avoid conversation with Sawyer tonight since the guys stayed in the kitchen most of the night while the girls were in the living room chatting and fawning over Cece and Poe. But as my luck would have it, I wound up sitting right across from Sawyer for dinner—which just feels like some kind of cruel karma at this point.

How the hell am I supposed to act like he doesn't exist when he's literally all I can see?

Everyone else is seated beside or across from their significant others with Hendrix and Cece heading up each end of the table.

"Ohh I love that idea!" Taylor claps excitedly, looking around the table to encourage everyone else's participation. I know both Shane and Taylor are married—well, one is married, and one is getting there—but I'm pretty sure their soulmates are actually each other.

"I'll go first." Shane clears her throat before taking a sip from her water cup. "I am thankful for the family that I've found since moving back to Nashville." She reaches across the table and grabs Max's hand—who is looking at her like she hung the moon and all the stars. "Holidays are a lot less lonely with family, and though I've always known my girls would be there for me… I'm thankful for you, Max, and the family we're starting together." Max winks at her and I'm pretty sure Shane wipes a tear from her eye just as I finish my four– fifth ? Glass of wine.

The rest of the group goes around saying what they're thankful for and when it gets to Sawyer my stomach twists. His gaze is set on me in a way that feels like he can see straight into my soul. Like all my sins and secrets are on full display, and he looks completely intrigued by them.

"I'm thankful to be back home for good. That I no longer have to miss the things I did while I was away."

" Things? " I'm shocked to hear myself say the words I had no intention of letting past my lips. "What things did you miss while you were away, Sawyer? Huh?" I finish pouring myself a fifth…sixth, maybe—fuck if I know—glass of wine.

"Leah…" Sawyer's steady voice is no match for the absolutely manic tone of mine.

"Because we know it wasn't the people. I mean, you clearly have no problem just up and leaving those behind and without a damn reason why at that."

"Leah." His voice is more assertive this time, but with all the alcohol and decade's worth of pent-up rage simmering out of me, I don't think I could stop yelling at him if I wanted to.

"How could you do that to me? You never showed up for breakfast, you left for college, and you left me on read or sent me to voicemail for months. I thought we were friends , Sawyer. You were mine, but clearly, I meant less to you than I ever thought." Sawyer's fist slams against the table, making me suck in a startled breath.

"Dammit Leah, you meant everything to me. That's why I had to leave the way I did."

"Watch your tone, son." My dad says from somewhere around the table.

I'm pretty sure my heart falls out of my ass when those words leave Sawyer's mouth and I realize that I'm literally crying in front of my parents and every single one of my friends during Thanksgiving dinner.

I would be thankful to disappear into thin air right about now.

With everyone's eyes wide and mouths hanging open, the silence is so deafening that I'm pretty sure I could hear a leaf fall off a tree outside. Until Hendrix—God bless his soul—speaks up.

"Dammit is a bad word."

"Not now Hen," Ruby whispers from beside me.

"I'm so sorry." I scoot my chair back from the table and rush upstairs—likely to die of embarrassment. I never lose my temper, and yet I just unleashed every bottled-up emotion I've had towards Sawyer for years in front of everyone .

What the hell is wrong with me?

I'm halfway up the stairs when a hand wraps around my bicep and I spin around to see Sawyer looking up at me.

"Please don't go, Dove." The pain in his eyes almost has me turning to walk closer towards him. That is, until my senses kick in, and I remember he's the one that put us in this position to begin with. Making all the sadness I was beginning to feel turn back into anger.

"How dare you ask that of me when you were the one that left first."

"I told you, I had to leave things that way." The muscle in his jaw flexes, giving his face a hard appearance. A shocking contrast to the gentle hold he has on me still.

"Why?" I challenge, hoping he'll give me some explanation that will douse the fiery anger I've been holding onto in regard to him.

"I told you why." I shake my head at his answer.

"No, you didn't. You may have given me a strikingly vague reason five seconds ago about why you left the way you did. But that doesn't excuse the years of hurt and confusion you put me through by doing so. So now is your chance. Tell me why." I cross my arms over my chest, giving him the floor to say what needs to be said. He looks around, letting his mouth pop open and shut a few times before it closes for good, and he shoves his hands in his front pockets.

"I had to learn to let you go when you left, Sawyer. Now it's your turn. Let me go." The pain that flashes through his eyes could damn near break my heart—if it wasn't already broken.

He has no idea how many years I wished for him to look at me the way he is right now. Like he can't stand the thought of losing me.

He finally releases my arm and I rush to the spare bedroom, locking the door behind me.

After weighing the pros and cons of jumping out the second story window to be able to leave undetected, someone knocks on the door.

"Leah, Sweetheart. Unlock the door." I almost immediately start crying when I hear my mom's voice on the other side. I take a deep breath in hopes of composing myself and unlock the door, but the moment I see the genuine concern in her eyes my lip begins to quiver all over again.

"So, it has nothing to do with a certain Clark boy moving back home, huh?"

"I'm fragile right now, Mother. Please don't make jokes." I choke out a laugh and turn to walk to the foot of the bed before falling back on it. I feel a dip in the mattress when Mom sits down beside me, her cool hand brushing through my hair comforting me the way only a mother can.

"You know we have to make jokes, or we will end up drowning in our tears." I remember when my mom told me that the secret remedy to heartbreak was a rom-com. So you can laugh and cry all at once until one day, you're left with only the laughter.

"I can't control myself around him, Mom. I'm still so mad at him but I…" I bite down on my lip so hard to keep the next part of my sentence in that I can taste the blood that's been drawn from the sensitive flesh.

"But you still love him." I shoot up from the bed and rush to close the door.

"Mom! Do you want a megaphone? Sheesh."

"Oh, Honey. If anyone doubted the way you felt about him before, they're likely clued in now," she laughs.

My head drops as I stare at the light wood grain floors in Taylor's spare bedroom, wishing that tonight hadn't happened.

That I hadn't drank so much.

That he hadn't looked straight at me with those sapphire blue eyes when he said he was thankful to be home.

That he didn't still affect me the same way he did ten years ago.

"I don't love him. I hate him." My eyes burn and my throat feels dry, and I force the words out. "I hate him for not showing up that day for breakfast. I hate him for leaving and ignoring me, but never telling me why . I hate that I loved him for so long and he never saw it. And I hate that he's finally looking at me the way I always looked at him." I focus on the warmth of my tears running down my face, embracing my emotions before I pack them back up in their little box so I can face my friends again.

"Because it's too late. He waited ten years too long to apologize, and now I don't want to hear it."

"There's a fine line between love and hate, Leigh-Ann. Make sure you know with absolute certainty what side you're standing on before you lose him again. If you need to hate him, then I'll understand. But I love you too much to see you hurt like this if there's a chance you could trade all of this hurt for happiness." I shake my head as she caresses my cheek, wiping away the rest of my tears.

"I was on the other side before, Mom. Look at how that worked out for me. Maybe I'm just not meant to be in love." My voice is such a low whisper I'm not even sure she heard me until I see the sympathy in her eyes.

Just as she looks as though she might say something, a soft knock sounds at the door and I push off it, turning just in time to see Shane peek her head in.

"Hey you. Everything okay in here?" Her eyes bounce between me and my mom as I quickly wipe away the tears that have stained my cheeks.

"I'll let you two girls talk. I'm going to go find your father and make sure he's not into dessert just yet." Mom gives me a reassuring wink before standing up.

"He was definitely eyeballing Ruby's homemade brownies before I came up here." Shane tells her, making Mom shake her head.

"This man will be the death of me." The soft smile that plays at her lips is a dead giveaway that she's not the least bit angry. When she's finally gone Shane slips in and shuts the door, following me to the bed to sit down.

"Wanna tell me what that was all about?" She pulls a water bottle from behind her back and hands it to me, making me laugh.

"What has happened to me? Are you the only levelheaded one left?" I laugh, unscrewing the top to take a sip.

"Starting to look that way. Even with Ruby in the group now, she leans a little more on the unhinged side," Shane laughs. "Probably all of those mama bear instincts that make her not give a shit." We share another laugh, but when it's silent again Shane takes my hand in hers. "If you don't want to tell me what's going on, then I'll respect that. But I know you and Sawyer used to be close—like, really close—until you weren't. Losing a friendship like that has to be hard, and you shouldn't have to go through it alone."

My phone buzzes in my pocket and when I pull it out to see who it's from, tears resurface in my eyes.

Dad

Car's warmed up and ready to go. Just say the word.

"I didn't go through it alone." I smile, earning a confused look from Shane. "But I'll keep what you said in mind. Coffee date tomorrow?"

"Yes!" she immediately agrees. "Brüman's at nine?"

"Sounds like a plan." She pulls me in for a hug and when I finally let out a full breath, it feels as though there's been a weight lifted from my shoulders.

Not telling my three best friends what really happened between Sawyer and me was one of the hardest things I've ever done. No matter how much support I got from my parents, sometimes you just need your girls. Because they're the ones that will trash talk, prank call, and help you rebound from the guy who broke your heart.

Since he's my best friend's brother , it always felt a little too messy to bring them into the middle of it, but we're grown now and that's about to change.