Chaos and Control(32)

For a moment, I see beneath his charming surface and into the boy I once adored. He is vulnerable in this confession, and he waits for a reaction.

“I loved you, too. You know that, Sawyer.”

“But not enough to stay.”

I shake my head. “I’m not sure anything could have made me stay back then. I just knew there was something waiting for me. Something bigger than tractor pulls and being a reverend’s kid.” I glance at my feet and back to his face. “I guess I was tired of being defined by this town. I don’t regret leaving.”

Sawyer steps closer, his feet in between mine. This feels familiar, but not right.

“Do you regret coming back?” he asks, his voice a raspy whisper that reminds me of escapades in the back of his truck.

“I don’t know yet,” I say.

I’m held in place by his hand that slides along my waist. The way he looks at me is the same way he looked at me three years ago. Sawyer tips his head down, his lips a breadth away from mine. My heart leaps into my throat, and I know this is something I don’t want to happen.

The door slams open, and two of his buddies come stumbling out. We break apart, stepping in opposite directions. Sawyer frowns and mumbles a curse into the night sky. I feel nothing but relief.

“I’ve got to get back to work,” I say over my shoulder before stepping back into the bar.

I spend the last hour of my shift immersed in bar duties. Sawyer never comes back inside. Coach says he closed his tab before following me outside. I throw away empty bottles, collect glasses, and wipe down tables while Coach closes tabs. Bennie sits on her stool, her head laid down on top of folded arms. I’ve seen my sister drink, but never drunk. This is new and strange, and I’m not sure if I like how it looks on her.

When the last customer is gone, Coach turns off the sign and gestures to Bennie.

“Go on and get her home, Wren. I’ll finish cleaning.”

“Are you sure?” I ask, not wanting to slack off during my first week of work.

“Yeah. It’s not a problem. Just make sure she gets home safe.”

He slides over my share of tips, and I throw it into my bag. On the other side of the bar, I place my hand on Bennie’s back.

“Bennie? Let’s go home.” She raises her head and gives me a lazy grin. “Can you walk, Ben?”

She slides off the stool, wobbles a bit, but then gathers herself. She takes a few steps as if trying out her feet for the first time and gives me a thumbs-up.

“Of course, I can walk. Been doin’ it for a long time,” Bennie slurs.

I lace my arm around hers and guide us toward the front door. She only stumbles once before giggling and straightening her posture.

“You okay?”

“I got it,” she says, this time more harsh with a frown.

“Later, Coach.” I give him a wave. “See you next week.”

Bennie leans on me, and I can’t wait to get outside and have Preston’s help with her. We push through the doors, and I scan the parking lot. It’s empty. Preston is not in his usual spot. No furrowed brow, no manic scribbling in his notebook, no strong arms to help.

“Damn,” I say.

“What happened?” Bennie asks.

“Nothing. Let’s go.”

Bennie keeps it together for most of the walk. She rambles on and on about the record store, our parents, and even Preston.

“That boy is some kind of gorgeous,” she says, laughing at her admission.

“Bennie. Are you crushing on Preston?”

“Ha! No, Wren. Seriously? He’s like half my age. I’m just sayin’. I’m old, not blind.”

We both laugh as I pull her along the road toward home.

“Why was today a bad day, Bennie?”

“Oh, you know. Nothing goes right. Everything is wrong. So unfair. Life’s not fair. Life! Ha!” She coughs and holds on to me tighter.

Her vagueness bothers me, but I let it go for now. “I’ve never seen you drunk,” I say. “Since when have you given up smoking weed for drinking?”

“I haven’t given up anything!” she shouts. I shush her and pull her through the park. “I am drunk,” she whispers. “Drunk, drunk, drunk as a skunk. Hey, that rhymes. And why would skunks get drunk anyway? Have you ever seen a skunk with a beer?”

I smile at her silliness and let myself enjoy taking care of my sister for once. We pass under the water tower, and Bennie pulls out of my grip. She stares up at the ladder.

“I always wanted to go up there,” she says. “Write a big ‘Fuck you, Reverend Hart’ message on the tower. Wouldn’t that be something?”

“It would definitely be something,” I answer, smoothing down her curly hair.

Bennie whips her head toward me. “Look at us, Wren. The shameless unholy Hart children. The drunk and the runaway.”

“Let’s get home.”

“You left me, Wren.”

Her voice is low, but her words hit me like a blow to the chest. Tears leave silver trails down her cheeks, and suddenly my eyes are watering.

“You left me here alone,” she spits. “How would you feel if I left you? Huh? What if I just leave?”

Tears ease out of the corners of my eyes as the guilt of what I’ve done takes hold. Bennie has always been so strong and independent. I had no idea my leaving would affect her this way.