We settle into silence, the kind that doesn’t feel heavy but still carries weight. It stretches between us, filled only by the sound of the tires against the pavement and the occasional rustling of a snack bag from Ada’s direction. I watch the road signs blur past, each one marking the distance between us and Maple Hill.
I don’t know what I’m expecting when we get there. Maybe nothing. Maybe too much.
A few hours in, we make a stop at a rundown gas station on the outskirts of some nowhere town. The kind of place that looks like it hasn’t been updated since the ’90s, with flickering fluorescent lights and a convenience store that probably hasn’t changed its stock in years.
“I need more coffee,” Sawyer announces as he pulls up to the pump.
“And I need more snacks that aren’t…” Ada waves vaguely toward me. “Whatever the hell she’s been eating.”
I give her a lazy salute as she hops out, heading toward the store.
Sawyer stays behind, stepping out to start filling the tank. I follow, leaning against the side of the car, watching the gas meter tick up. The air smells like oil and asphalt, and the wind carries the distant sound of a train passing through.
He glances at me. “You look tired.”
“Feel tired.”
“You sleep at all?”
I shrug. “Enough.”
He doesn’t call me out on the lie, but I can see it in his face thathe wants to. Instead, he caps the gas tank and stretches, rolling his shoulders like he’s shaking off the weight of something unspoken.
I shift my gaze toward the store, watching Ada browse the aisles through the smudged glass windows. My mind drifts back to the messages from my mom, still sitting unanswered in my phone. Still pressing down on my chest like a weight I don’t know how to lift.
Sawyer follows my gaze. “Something on your mind?”
“Too many things,” I say, my voice quieter than I intend.
Sawyer leans against the car beside me, arms crossed, watching me with the same careful scrutiny he always does, like he’s trying to decide if I’m about to bolt or bite back.
I sigh, tilting my head up toward the sky. The now gray clouds hang low, unmoving. “My mom texted.”
Sawyer’s brows raise slightly, but he doesn’t say anything right away. He just nods, like he’s letting me take my time.
“She wants to talk,” I continue. “Says she has something important to tell me.”
Sawyer hums in acknowledgment. “And you don’t know if you want to hear it.”
I huff out a laugh, but there’s no humor in it. “I don’t even know if I care anymore.” I pause, shaking my head. “No, that’s a lie. I do care. I just wish I didn’t.”
His eyes flick toward the store window, where Ada is holding up two bags of chips like she’s debating which one to bring back. He exhales through his nose before turning back to me. “Not caring would be easier, but that’s never been you.”
I scoff. “You say that like you know me so well.”
“I have come to know you quite well, actually,” he says simply, like it’s not even up for debate. “I know that when you’re pissed, you go quiet instead of yelling. I know you make jokes when you’re scared. I know you don’t trust easily, but when you do,you’d burn the whole world down for the people you care about.”
I swallow hard, gripping the edge of the car door. The weight in my chest shifts, something warm creeping in beneath it.
Sawyer glances at the gas meter before continuing. “And I know what it’s like to have a parent you don’t know what to do with.”
I glance at him. “You do?”
He nods. “Never saw eye to eye. My father wanted things from me I couldn’t give. I spent years of my youth trying to make sense of it, trying to be what he wanted. Eventually, I realized some people will never be who you need them to be, no matter how much you want them to.”
I look down, my fingers tracing invisible patterns against the car’s door. “So, what? You just let it go?”
Sawyer is quiet for a moment before he shakes his head. “Not exactly. I just stopped letting it own me, but it took me a very long time and changed me too.” He turns his head slightly, watching me. “You don’t owe her anything, Isabella. But if you think hearing her out will give you peace, even a little bit, then maybe it’s worth it.”
