But not Sawyer.
I hadn’t seen him in ten months, since the night I’d gotten everything so very wrong, but it wasn’t like I’d felt free of him. He’d DM-ed and texted for the first month or two of the semester, checking in on me, requesting to talk. Finally, an apology.Sorry. I didn’t mean it to go like this.
Eventually, when he’d heard nothing from me, the messages had dried up all together.
I was glad. It had taken until Christmas before my heart stopped lurching at every alert in case it was him. I didn’t know if he even knew I wasn’t coming back this summer, and I hoped when he realized I wasn’t there, he would feel bad and know it was his fault.
I smoothed down my smock and walked to the restaurant. I hated that even now, on the first day of an unrelated job, he was at the front of my mind. When would it not be like this? When would he not be a constant part of my day? Ten months of my silence hadn’t done the trick. Taking an extra class each semester to keep myself too busy to think or feel hadn’t done the trick.
Being this close to Oak Crest was a risk in terms of feeling his presence, thinking about what they—he—was up to. But I could get a better start here as an aspiring chef than I could at any of our Creekville establishments, and I could only hope work would keep me busy enough to distract me.
I pushed into the restaurant and found my way to the kitchen, where I presented myself to Chef Marc.
“Ten minutes early, Winters. That’s good. Now get on the line. Hieu will show you what to do.”
The day was as grueling as I could have hoped for. I worked six hours straight, washing produce, peeling root vegetables, chopping, chopping, chopping.
My back ached, my hair reeked of onion, and I couldn’t feel my feet anymore, but I’d had no time to think of anything else, and I walked to my car exhausted but feeling like the day was a success.
At least I did until I turned on my phone and found three texts waiting for me. One each from Ben and Natalie telling me they missed me. And then…
SAWYER:It doesn’t feel right without you here.
I studied that for a long time before I started the car. I could respond. I could say, “Too bad you broke us.”
Or I could let him suffer in my silence.
So I did that.
It took about three weeks before turning off Interstate 81 into Roanoke didn’t make my stomach dip. Sawyer was in my thoughts every day, maybe even every hour, but the pull to keep driving on to Oak Crest had eventually eased.
On particularly stressful days in the kitchen—days where we had a big reservation or a VIP—I would curse his name in time to the thwacks of my chef’s knife chopping up vegetables. But mostly, I knew this prep cook job was right for me.
My thoughts started splitting evenly between Sawyer and how to tell my mom I would be going to culinary school after graduation instead of getting an MBA.
In July, I got a text that hitched my breath.
NATALIE:Tabby Cat! I miss you! We want to come see you!
TABITHA:Who is we?
NATALIE:Me and Ben. We’re off Sunday. When can we come?
TABITHA:After 2. Slow until dinner prep at 4.
She sent me a thumbs up, and I stared down at our conversation. She’d know I was checking to make sure Sawyer wasn’t coming. They were still friends. I knew that. I didn’t expect her to drop him. But she’d figured out quickly that I didn’t want to talk about him, or even hear about him casually.
Sunday, I made sure my hair was in a neat French braid, and I put on waterproof mascara and a light shade of long-lasting lipstick. The other cooks gave me funny looks, but I ignored them and went to work.
Normally, I spent the time between shifts reading or napping in my car, which I’d started parking behind the restaurant. But today, I hung up my smock and sat at an empty table in the front, waiting for my friends.
Natalie pushed through the door, Ben right on her heels, and scooped me into a gigantic hug. I hugged her right back, happy to get one of her squishes, but for a second, I thought I glimpsed the top of Sawyer’s head over hers. It was the right color hair and the right height. I straightened, but he was gone.
Natalie followed my gaze. “He caught a ride to town with us, but he’s going to do his own thing.”
I nodded and let it drop, instead giving Ben an enthusiastic hello. We walked over to the ice cream shop and got cones, then continued to a shaded bench where we sat and talked, them catching me up on camp shenanigans and asking me about Martin’s.
Sawyer’s name didn’t come up at all, and it was obvious in its absence, but I was glad. I already thought about him too much; I didn’t want to have to talk about him too.
