Chaos and Control(31)

“I assure you, Wren, I am no one’s secret mistress.”

I give her a suspicious look.

“Would I lie to you?” she asks.

“No. You know better.” She finishes her beer and motions for another. Coach delivers it without question. “Okay then. I’m going to get back to work.”

I pick up empty glasses and bottles on my trip through the bar and mentally vow to look into a recycling program here. Sawyer and his group of buddies seem to get progressively louder and more rowdy as the night wears on. Some girls have joined the mix now, dispersed between the guys around their table, some sitting on laps.

At midnight I check on Bennie again. She’s been knocking them back for a couple of hours now. Her glassy eyes and permanent smile give her away. I hear my name and look up to find Sawyer calling me over again.

“What can I get you?” I ask, feigning indifference to the group watching me.

“Wren Hart, your hair looks like an Easter egg,” one guy says.

The group laughs, but Sawyer stays quiet.

“And is that a stud in your nose?” he continues. “I bet your daddy had a fit when he saw you, huh?”

“I wonder what else she has pierced,” another friend chimes in.

“Oh my God, did that, like, hurt?” a brunette girl with eyes too big for her face says.

“I bet it did,” a blonde chimes in. “Remember when we got our ears pierced? That was brutal.”

“Yes, that’s a stud in my nose. And even if you were the last man on earth and the fate of the free world rested on you and me procreating, you would still never find out what else I have pierced. And, yes, it hurt a little,” I say, addressing each of the offending questions. “I’m here to get you drinks. If any of you assholes want to get laid tonight, I suggest you start buying these girls lots of alcohol. They’re going to need it.”

Sawyer is the only one laughing now. “Twelve shots of bourbon,” he says.

I nod and retreat to the bar before I say something else to get me fired. Lining up thirteen shot glasses along the bar, I pull out the most expensive bourbon we have and fill each glass. I add that to Sawyer’s tab and place the drinks on a tray. When I deliver the shots, each of them watches me carefully, like they’re waiting for me to do a trick. I ignore their gawking and pass out the glasses.

“There’s an extra one,” one of the girls says.

“No, there’s not.” I grab the last shot from my tray and throw it back, swallowing down the sweet bourbon. It creates a nice burn in my empty stomach and a smile on my lips. Sawyer tips me a twenty this time, and I take it with no hesitation. It’s the least he can do for subjecting me to this Midwest version of Dumb and Dumber.

I drop the tray off at the bar and let Coach know I’m taking a quick break. Outside, the night air is a welcome reprieve from the stale atmosphere of The Haystack. I lean against the building and stare out at the parking lot. Preston is not in his usual spot yet. It’s still early. But I can’t deny the feeling of wanting him there, needing to see him.

The door swings open, and Sawyer steps out alone. He gives me a hesitant grin and leans against the wall next to me.

“Sorry about them,” he says.

“No worries. Small town people are nothing if not predictable.”

He blows out a breath. “Well, we can’t all be world travelers.”

At this moment, I wish I were a smoker. I need that habitual action to keep my hands busy and deep lungfuls of oxygen and smoke to fill the awkward silence between us. It’s strange to feel uncomfortable around him. At one time, Sawyer knew me better than anyone in this town. Even though he hated it, he understood my need to run away. It was all I talked about back then.

“Is Crowley everything you remember?” he asks.

I turn to face him, leaning my shoulder against the wall. “It’s everything I remember, and some stuff I tried to forget. Not much has changed.”

“You sure have changed, though,” Sawyer tells me. I shrug. “Not just the hair and the piercing, Wren. You’re different.”

“Being out there,” I gesture to the vast fields and night sky, “makes you different. The things you see and learn, the people you meet, they all change you.”

“So, why’d you come back if it was so great?”

I look at my feet and then out at the dark parking lot. The confession sits in my mouth, burning like hot saliva. I picked the wrong guy. Dylan owned me. He hurt me. I ran. Instead of telling him, I swallow it down and let the fear and pain settle in my stomach. Sawyer watches me closely, waiting for an answer. I ignore the question.

“You should try it, Sawyer. Get out of this place.”

He shakes his head at me and grins. “I’m not that person. I like it here. I’ll probably stay in Crowley the rest of my life—get married, have a family, coach Little League. I never wanted you to leave, but I never wanted to go with you.” He looks away and back to my eyes. “Not that you gave me a choice.”

I take a deep breath and blow it out toward my feet. The guilt of leaving him hits me for the first time. I didn’t just leave Bennie. I left Sawyer, too. At the time, the road in front of me was all I could see. I was young and selfish.

“I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be. We both knew it was coming.” Sawyer rubs at the back of his neck and pulls the baseball cap from his head. He curls the bill into its signature country-boy shape before placing it back on his head. “I would have done anything to keep you here, Wren. But I knew it was useless. I was crazy in love with you,” he admits.