Page 76 of The Love You Fight For
Her thinly veiled insults almost land how she intended—right to my chest—and each one threatens a blow to my confidence. My lastconversation with Sable tries to gain attention, followed by my sister’s words at the birthday party, and I have to grit my teeth against the force of it all.
Can’t see past her pretty face.
Sable all over again.
You’re too naïve.
Sam has me in a cyclone and I can barely keep my feet on the ground. A big part of me knows for certain that something is wrong, and this is just her tried and true method of self-defense. But another part is still trying to recover from her expertly crafted blow.
The sound of tires on gravel brings me out of my spiral, and I glance up to see Sam hurrying toward Macon’s car. Macon strides toward me as Lennon and Sam exchange words. The concern on Lennon’s face and the slight droop of Sam’s shoulders are what set my feet in motion.
I go straight to my truck and open the driver’s side door, then dig through the center console for the small, black velvet bag. I look up to see Lennon climb into the driver’s seat of Macon’s car and Sam in the passenger seat. When Lennon cranks the engine, I bolt to the car and bang on Sam’s window.
She jumps but won’t look at me.
“Roll down the fucking window, Sam.”
Lennon whispers something to Sam, then flicks her eyes to me. I can’t read them, but I release a sigh of relief when Lennon reaches to the window button on the door. Sam’s window rolls down, but she still doesn’t acknowledge me. She says nothing. She doesn’t even look at me. Her designer sunglasses stay pointed at the windshield.
It’s fine. She can listen.
“You can be as vicious as you like, princess, but I told you I’m not falling for it. I’ve got a thicker skin than you’re used to. Your bite may bruise, but it doesn’t cut. I don’t know what happened, but I know whatever this is has nothing to do with you and me. When you finally admit it to yourself, I’ll be waiting.”
“There is no you and me,” she whispers.
I don’t say anything. I don’t argue. I just reach into the window and drop the velvet bag into her lap.
“A gift. For your true north.” I look at Lennon. “Drive safe, Len.”
I walk back to where Macon is standing with a stick of licorice hanging from his mouth. I can hear Lennon put the car in drive and disappear down the gravel lane.
“So,” Macon says around his licorice. “You want to stay, or you want to head back?”
I look back toward the cabin and my heart clenches in my chest. I can’t go back in there right now. I can’t sleep in that bed.
“Let’s head back,” I say, and Macon nods.
He helps me pack the contents of the fridge into the cooler and clean up, then I turn off all the lights and lock the doors. On the drive back to Franklin, Macon and I don’t speak. He plays music from his phone, and when we get back to town, I go straight to his apartment above the community rec center.
I park my truck, and we head inside to the rec center gymnasium. Macon tosses me a pair of boxing gloves and then flashes a grin.
“Loser buys dinner.”
It’s beena while since I’ve last heard from Sable.
Not a whisper since she “accidentally” tagged me in her social media post almost two months ago.
In the weeks after she turned down my proposal, I would find myself wondering how I would react if I ran into her. Would it hurt? Would I be angry? Would I want her back? Wouldshewantmeback? I could never decide. I was never sure just how much damage she’d done.
When I see her car pull up to the garage on the morning of my shift, though, I get my answer:Annoyed.
All I feel when I see her isannoyed.
“Chris,” she calls as she steps out of her car. “Hi! Hi, Chris!”
“Hi, Chris, hi!” one of my coworkers whisper-mocks, and I flip him off as I walk to where Sable is now standing at the garage door.
“All service appointments need to be booked at the service desk, Sable.”
