“Not for lack of trying,” I say. “But I know some things about you. You’re more likely to die trying than quit. You’re smart, but you forget that about yourself. And I could buy a hundred acres if I had a dime for every time you stopped yourself fromsaying exactly what was on your mind around people that you’re worried won’t like you.”
Her mouth drops open, just barely, but enough for me to notice.
Even I didn’t realize that I knew those things about her, but they felt true coming out of my mouth. I’m pretty confident that she’s easily misunderstood and not used to someone pinpointing things about her like I just did. She can come off as cold or a loose cannon judging by everything that’s gone down since I’ve met her. But I’ve studied her enough over the last few weeks to know that’s not the whole story.
At least part of what I said must be right on the money because she doesn’t bother arguing.
“Are you buttering me up, or do you actually believe those things about me?” she asks softly.
I don’t hesitate to answer. “I believe them.”
She tucks a stray strand of hair behind her ear as she nods.
“When I left the city, it was because I was let go from another job. They were nice about it and used their supposed downsizing as an excuse, but I knew I hadn’t been performing at the same level as some of the other attorneys there. I held myself back a little bit, I think. Fear of failure and all that. That mentality came back to bite me, I guess.”
I lean forward on the couch, concentrating on her story. I want to respond, letting her know that she and I have a fear of failure in common. But I don’t want her to stop talking, so I sit back and continue listening.
“My parents were already mad at me for not wanting to work for them, and losing my job made them look bad in their circle of friends. They were pissed.” That self-deprecating laugh rings again, but her face falls soon after.
“Why wouldn’t you want to work for your parents?”
“I don’t know,” she sighs. “For one, my brother works there. And he’s more concerned with party drugs and making money than being nice to me. For two, I think my parents just wanted me as an in-house lawyer at their investment firm so they could keep me on a tight leash, you know? And I want tohelppeople. Not sit in a skyscraper all day doing nothing but figuring out ways to keep white-collar rich businessmen with questionable ethics out of muddy water.”
The last part gets a laugh out of me, and I lay back with one arm slung across the back of the couch.
“From how you describe it, I wouldn’t want to work there either. But that explains a lot about your brother.”
“What do you mean?”
“Well, he’s dating Emma and—” I rub the side of my head, not wanting to sound like a gossip, but feeling like Savannah might want to know. “She's had a few problems in the drug department in the past too, so they have that in common. It’s part of why we didn’t work out.”
“Oh,” she whispers. “That makes so much sense now. I wondered why he was so obsessed with her.”
“Yeah . . . she came over here high in the middle of the night one time. Heston’s dog was going crazy barking and we found her with her hands on the hood of my truck. Claimed I hadn’t called her back, and she was checking to see if my truck was hot from driving home from some other girl’s house.”
“No fucking way.” Her expression is shocked but slightly amused and I can’t help but laugh at how ridiculous that situation was.
“Dead serious. I think she’s got it under control now, but I don’t know. None of my business anymore.” She nods and I realize that I changed the subject to my ex, which was probably a dumb move. I’d rather talk about Savannah. “Were you sad to leave?”
She shakes her head right away. “I wanted to leave. Go off and find some different scenery, new chances. Get away from my family and their expectations.”
My heart sinks and I try not to immediately blurt out a multitude of more questions about her family. It makes sense now why keeping the job that she has here is so important to her. She was pretty relaxed before, but after sharing what she just told me, she’s starting to bite her thumb and look away again. That’s the last thing I want, so I slightly change the subject before she shuts down altogether.
“Well, I’m glad you’re here,” I say. “And hey, maybe next time we’re around him, Henry won’t be suspicious.”
That gets her attention.
“Oh, god,” she covers her forehead with her hand. “You noticed him being kind of skeptical too? I wasn’t sure if he was buying it, to be honest. I mean, he didn’t say anything but . . .”
“Yeah,” I rub the side of my jaw, “I’ve never lied to him before. Or my parents. It’s possible that he saw through it a little bit.”
The click on the footrest being put down echoes around the living room, and Savannah stands, taking her drink with her. Between paces across the floor and sips of her beer, she’s doing a terrible job at reining in the panic.
I just smile. When she’s stressed out about something, I bet she gets over ten thousand steps in a day just from her little pacing and thinking sessions.
“Warren,” she says while stopping in front of me for a moment. “Thishasto work.”
I stand up from my spot on the couch and look her right in the eye so she knows I’m serious. “It’s going to.”
