blind panic. thatâs all he felt when he turned and realized that amelia wasnât standing right next to him. sheâd been there just a moment before, sawyer reasoned, kicking himself for taking the time to look at the fruit on display at the cart. a nice afternoon at the farmerâs market had quickly shifted into a nightmare, as he turned and scanned the crowd.Â
just moments before he was thinking of shouting ameliaâs name, he spotted her. she was standing with another adult, a woman in a sun hat. he sighed in relief, jogging towards the booth selling fresh honey and marching up behind his daughter, scolding, âamelia - you scared me half to death! donât run off like that!âÂ
itâs then that he actually looks at the woman and recognizes her. his blood runs cold for a second - he thought heâd never see elise again. after everything that had happened, and especially after the way he abruptly ended things between them, he was expecting her to lash out at him. it would be what he deserved, at least.Â
sawyer canât help but greet her right back, his voice just a bit too soft when he says her name. âelise, i-â he pauses, his mind wandering back to the last time heâd seen her. somehow, she looked full of life, where he remembered the way she always wore her sadness like a shield. âi didnât - we, um, we moved her about six months ago? i couldnât - raising amelia in a shitty apartment in manhattan didnât seem like the best choice for her. i didnât - when did you move here?âÂ
there was panic mounting in her chest now. they hadnât spoken in more than a year, and now here he was, still saying her name the way he always had. the way he had no right to, warm and soft and affectionate. he had no right, because he left, but there he was - saying it anyway. and he still looked at her the way he always had, too. with all that unreadable something in his eyes.
she considered making a run for it. she seriously, really considered it. it would be easy to melt into the crowd of the farmerâs market, to disappear and lock herself in her home and hope they never crossed paths again. but mystic was too small, and she and sawyer had too much of a habit of going back to each other.
she nodded, nervously shifted her weight, and ignored the child at sawyerâs feet. there were a thousand questions she wanted to ask, most of them concerning just one thing: who was this girlâs mother? but she couldnât ask any of them. she didnât have that right anymore, heâd made that abundantly clear. not to mention, there was a child right in front of sawyer, and the conversation elise wanted to have was hardly appropriate for four-year-old ears.
âjust under a month,â she said, quiet, because the wound was still fresh. she fixed her eyes on sawyerâs nose, not quite willing to look him in the eye. âi, um... itâs nice here, from what iâve seen. itâs... quaint. and quiet. how are you? are you still in stocks, or...?â