Here With Me

“Put what together?” Sawyer walks up holding a cone of chocolate-vanilla swirl soft serve ice cream. “Here. I know you love ice cream.”

I take it from him, but my throat is so tight, I’ll never be able to choke it down. Still, I try giving it a little lick.

“Beth and Elizabeth think you help me get the poster commission every year.”

He leans back and laughs. “I don’t know shit about art… Other than Mindy’s work is really good.” He gives me a wink. “Andre Caron wouldn’t give two cents for my opinion. He recognizes talent.”

“And big money.” Beth’s voice is just above a murmur as she walks back to the picnic tables.

Elizabeth runs her finger along the top of Sawyer’s sleeve. “Why don’t you ever come by the house and visit Pat?”

“We’re pretty busy with harvest.” I appreciate him stepping away, making his tone more serious.

“Harvest is so punishing. I guess that’s how you keep such an amazing physique year after year…”

“I think your order’s ready.” I nod toward the window, and Sawyer steps around me.

“I’ll meet you in the car.” He says, turning his head to me. “See you later, Liz. Tell Pat I said Hi.”

Driving back to the farm, the aroma of really good burger surrounds us. I dumped the ice cream in the garbage as it started to melt everywhere. Now I’m doing my best to shake off that chance encounter with the adolescent mean girls.

Sawyer looks out the window, quiet as always. “I guess I missed out on all of that kind of stuff growing up.”

“You didn’t miss much.”

“It seemed like you were pretty tight with them in high school. Like they finally let you in.”

“Looked like it, didn’t it?” He studies me, his dark brow lowered, and I glance out the window. “I thought we were friends, then I’d find out they all took a trip to Gulf Shores and didn’t invite me. They’d post BFF pictures all over social media.”

Loneliness aches in my stomach, and it’s like I’m right back in eleventh grade, looking at their pictures and wondering why I was left out. I’m amazed these old wounds still hurt so much.

Blinking down a tear hits my cheek, and I shove it away hard. “God, I’m such a dork. You had real problems growing up. I just had stupid girl shit to worry about.”

His warm hand covers mine, and we’re quiet as we pull into the yard. I don’t kill the engine. I’m ready to go home, when he reaches over and turns it off.

“What are you doing?” I look up at him.

“Come on.” He gets out, slipping my keys into the front of his jeans.

“Sawyer…” I stand out of the car. “I’d better get on back. I need to get serious about this year’s poster or Andre is going to be pissed.”

“I said come on.”

I watch as he drops the brown paper bag in the rack on the front of the three-wheeler and throws a leg over the seat. One push and it roars to life. He sits on the black leather seat looking at me, waiting.

“Well, I’m not going anywhere so long as my keys are in your pocket.”

I walk over and climb on behind him, wrapping my arms around his waist and resting my cheek against his shoulder. His body is warm against mine, his strength melting away the cattiness. I close my eyes and let the hot wind push my hair back, blowing the bad memories out of my mind like carbon off an engine.

We bounce over the small ruts and hills, until finally he slows to a stop. I lift my head and see he’s driven us out to the pond. A quick dismount, and he reaches out, taking my hand as I climb off the seat.

I thread our fingers together as we walk the short distance, up the small rise to where the pier stretches out over the water. It’s like he’s my real boyfriend. It’s how I’ve always wanted him to be.

He leads me down the wooden planks, pausing to toe off his boots. I do the same, and we sit side by side, our legs hanging off the end, toes dipping in the water. He takes out his hamburger and breaks it in half, handing me one side while he takes a big bite of the other.

“Damn.” He shakes his head. “I think it’s still the best burger in town.”

I take a bite, and the rich, perfectly cooked meat with the peppery tang fills my mouth. “What is that? Vinegar? Mustard? It’s more than just black pepper.”