And I have to be okay with that.
CHAPTER 28
SAWYER
Icome back from my run with my lungs burning and my head no clearer than when I left.
Old Town is loud in that easy Sunday way—dogs on leashes, strollers bumping over brick sidewalks, the faint hum of someone playing guitar down by the water. It’s the kind of afternoon that makes you believe everything’s fine. Even when it isn’t.
I punch the numbers on the building’s security keypad and walk inside. In a few moments, I’m letting myself into my condo, sweat cooling against my skin, not even surprised to find Ty stretched out on the couch. Of course he is.
“Is that Sawyer?” Campbell’s voice drifts from the kitchen. I can only assume he’s rummaging through the fridge.
“Yep, and he’s alive,” Ty says, glancing up. “We were about to send a search party.”
I toss my keys onto the table. “I was gone thirty minutes.”
“Felt longer,” Campbell says as he emerges with a bottle of water in his hand that he tosses my way. “Ooff. You look like you wrestled a raccoon and lost.”
I grab the bottle from the air, chugging half of it before answering. “Maybe I did. What are you two doing?”
“Farmers’ market,” Ty says. “Then a rooftop bar for a late lunch with some of the team.”
“It should be illegal to waste a Sunday like this,” Campbell adds as his gaze lands on me. “Shower. You’re coming.”
“Nah.” I shake my head automatically. “I can’t.”
“What do you mean you can’t?” Campbell asks.
I throw my hands up. “I’ve got stuff.”
Ty narrows his eyes. “What stuff?”
“Stuff stuff.”
Campbell snorts. “Stuff is usually short for sulking.”
“He can sulk if he wants.” Ty pushes off the couch. “We’re going and if you want to join us, please do, but we’re grabbing coffee first. I need to go by my place and get my jacket anyway. It’s colder by the water.” He points at me as he heads for the door. “Five minutes. If you change your mind, meet us downstairs.”
He disappears into the hallway, the only sound being the click of the front door when he leaves.
Campbell doesn’t move right away. He leans back against the counter and studies me.
I hate that look.
“Dude.”
“I’m fine.” I’m lying.
“You have dark circles under your eyes,” he says flatly. “And I know for a fact you weren’t out celebrating with us last night.”
I look away, cap twisting between my fingers.
“What’s going on?” he asks, softer now.
Normally, this is where I unload. I’m good at that. I take the mess in my head and dump it at my cousin’s feet like it’s a strategy session. Break it down. Analyze it. Figure out the play.
I could do that now.
