Page 24 of Infinite as They Come
Clara was telling me more about the diner. Her boss, her co-worker that she had a little crush on, this week’s specials. My teeth chewed into my bottom lip a little too roughly. I wished Sawyer was with me. That I was with him. That I could erase any and all pain he was feeling. That I could kiss it away. I blinked and chewed at my lip some more. Wherever he was, I just hoped he knew that I loved him, that I always would, that whatever was about to happen, I believed in him enough to know that he would get through it, because I had never met anyone as strong as him.
Chapter 7
Sawyer
Why was it so fucking hard to find a lemon tree?
Four houses. Four. I had looked at four in the last few hours and every last one of them was missing that one important feature, that one thing that would make it the perfect home. None of them really felt right, anyway. I had walked every inch of those houses, the floorboards creaking under my shoes, slipping into countless living rooms and bedrooms and kitchens, and they all felt strange. Like they wouldn’t make Holly happy. They felt like houses, but not like homes.
I knew what it all was as I drove back to the motel, the sun on its way to setting and the sky a deep combination of pink and orange. A distraction. From her. My mom. The three letter word was enough to make my fingers clench at the steering wheel so tight it almost hurt.
My mom had been out of my life more years than she had been in it. That was a long time to go without seeing the woman who brought you into the world. Too many days, months, years. Just the sound of her voice made my brain reel. The plan had been simple enough in my head: take Holly around Texas, enjoy our days on the road together, celebrate all her hard work, and then eventually find the home we’d spend our shared forever in.
Then she called.
I fidgeted, the truck suddenly feeling too small even though it was anything but. It still drove like it was brand new. Over the years, since Holly had given it to me, there had been very little to fix. Just a tune up here and therethat I could do myself. The engine always gave an easy, gentle hum and the wheels always felt perfectly stable and the brakes were still firm as hell. My eyes lowered for a split second, seeing the pom pom keychain Holly gave me years ago swaying away as I drove. I really hadn’t meant to just leave her there in the motel. I had meant it when I said I needed alone time. Some air, some space, someone to shake me by the shoulders and slap me across the face and tell me what to do, because I had no idea what my next move had to be.
I tried to focus back on the truck. Smooth. Solid. Stable.A distraction.
Just like the morning and afternoon had been. Finding that house for Holly was absolutely at the top of my list of priorities—Holly was always at the top—but deep down, my search today had been a way for my brain to forget the sound of my mom’s voice. I could still remember what it was like. Soft, gentle, just a hint of a Southern accent. Enough warmth to make me feel like everything would be okay.
My eyes landed on the billboards I was passing by. A diner in ten minutes. A gas station in fifteen minutes. The motel me and Holly were staying at in twenty minutes. More distractions.
It was easier not to think about her, because thinking about her always took me back to that day I came home to an empty home and a man who took a little too much joy in seeing me in pain. My dad had taken joy in seeing her in pain too, so it wasn’t a surprise that she had left.
But how hard would it have been to take me with her?
I couldn’t think about that. I couldn’t. Instead, I counted how many green lights I got along the way back to the motel. Four. Then I counted how many red cars I drove past. Ten. I counted all the fast food places too. Eight. Finally, I was back at the motel, and I felt a tiny sense of relief I hadn’t felt since the trip started as I stepped into the room.
There was a piece of paper on the bed that caught my eye, Holly’s neat handwriting looking back at me, and there was something about seeing her words that made my body feel warm all over. She felt like home. Like when you had been out all day on your feet, muscles aching from top to bottom, only to feel sweet relief when you walked through the front door. That wasHolly.
Just hanging out by the pool. I love you.
I tucked the paper into my pocket. I liked hanging on to the notes she gave me.
She was probably bored as fuck waiting around in some tiny motel room all day. God, this was supposed to be for her. A celebration for her, a journey for her—one that would lead to our home, but there I was taking off all day. I hissed and made my way downstairs, to the back part of the motel where the pool was. The place was a lot quieter at night, and I needed that. I needed some peace, and Holly always brought me peace.
I could see Holly all the way from where I was standing: there in her pretty pink dress that probably cost a thousand dollars, sitting on one of the cheap pool chairs like she was at some fancy ass resort. She hadn’t noticed me yet. There was a notebook in her lap that she tapped away at with a pen, her eyes stuck on the water. I hated that my problems were pulling her away from her work. She had wanted to spend the trip doing some writing and there I was burdening her with my problems.
As I got closer, she turned her head my way. A little smile stretched across her lips as she sat up straight, tossing the book to the little table next to her.
“Hi,” she said softly.
I rested my hands on either side of her face and pressed my lips to the top of her head, letting that lavender scent take over me. She always smelled so familiar. I kissed her head then her lips, my fingers brushing along her soft cheeks before pulling away. She looked up at me, eyes all big and filled with too much worry I didn’t want her to feel.
“Hey, baby,” I murmured, pecking her lips again before sitting on the pool chair next to hers.
“How are you feeling?” she asked. “Are you okay?”
“Uh…” Letting out a long breath of air, I shoved my hand into my jeans pocket to pull out a cigarette. “I don’t know. I don’t even know where to start or what to think or what to feel, and the worst part is that I feel like I’m not evenallowedto feel anything, that I’m just…” Cupping the cigarette with one hand, I lit it. “I don’t know, honestly.”
“You don’t need to have all the answers right now. This is all new and different and scary. It’s okay to be confused.”
“I feel like an asshole keeping her waiting,” I muttered. “I mean, she made the effort to reach out, right? Nearly twenty years later, but still…effort. More effort than I’m used to from a parent.”
Holly sighed. “I can’t even imagine what you’re feeling, Sawyer. I’m sorry. I wish I could fix this all for you. I wish I could take all your pain away.”
Reaching over the table, I grabbed Holly’s hand. Her skin was so soft. Warm too, even with the cold night air around us. She was always like that: warm, inviting, gentle. My perfect girl, and I was so lucky that she was mine. My thumb couldn’t help but move over to that spot on her left hand. Her ring finger. My eyes lifted to hers, watching as she gave me a shy little smile.
