Once I shut his bedroom door, I lean against the wall beside it and let my eyes close.
Sawyer makes me smile. He makes me and my son happy.
That doesn’t mean he’ll ever be something more than just the man who makes us smile.
Chapter twenty-one
Sawyer
“You’ve been MIA lately, what’s going on?”
Max’s tone is neutral, but I still pause mid-bicep curl for a second.
“Nothing,” I say casually, resuming my reps.
“Bullshit,” Jude coughs under his breath. We’re in Westport, at the gym in the arena where his hockey team plays. Normally, I would work out in Dogwood Cove, but coming here meant Max and Jude could join in, and it’s been a while since the four of us hung out.
“Not bullshit. I’m busy living life.” I set the weight down and pick up a large medicine ball, inclining my head to the open space next to the weight rack. Jude follows me over, and we drop to the mats and start a set of crunches with a medicine ball toss.
“Something’s definitely up. You haven’t been whining about having no one to go to the bars with or ribbing us about our relationships.” My oldest brother’s helpful assessment of the last few weeks has me grinding my teeth together. Why the fuck do I have insightful brothers? Why can’t I have oblivious idiots who are consumed with their own shit and stay out of mine?
I let out anoomphas Jude chucks the damn medicine ball at me with some extra force. “Can’t a guy just enjoy a few chill weeks without it becoming a national emergency?”
“Not when the guy is Sawyer Donnelly, manwhore extraordinaire, destroyer of panties and hearts across the province.”
I shoot a glare at Jude, ignoring the pang of hurt I feel at his words. Not that they’re untrue, or at least they were accurate at one time, but it’s never fun having my sins laid out for me like that.
“Does it have something to do with Tori? You guys seemed awfully cozy at the adoption fair the other day. For what it’s worth, she seems nice,” Beckett adds, all casual, as if he isn’t digging into my brain and uncovering shit I don’t want uncovered.
“We’re just friends,” I reply automatically.
“Looked like it could be more than that.”
Goddamn Beckett and his ability to read me like a fucking book.
“It’s not.” I scramble to stand up and make my way over to the treadmill, climbing on and immediately setting a punishing pace.
“And now he’s partaking in the Donnelly men tradition of trying to outrun reality.” Max’s wry voice comes from beside me as he leans against the handrail of the machine next to mine. Dropping his voice a little quieter, he says, “Seriously bro, is everything alright? You have to admit, you’re different these days. Is it this woman? Tori?”
I ignore him for a couple of minutes, focusing on my breathing and the rhythmic sound of my feet hitting the treadmill. But of all of us, Max is the one who will wait it out the longest.
Eventually, I hit the button to slow down to a more reasonable pace, and glance over at him. “I’m fine, Maxy, seriously. I’m not dating anyone, I just haven’t been interested in hitting the bars lately, so there was no need to ask any of you to go out. Not like you’d say yes, anyway. You three are boring fuckers these days.”
Max raises one eyebrow. “Boring? You want to rethink that statement?”
I huff out a laugh. “Relax, old man. I love your women, they’re my bonus sisters. But yeah, you guys are boring now.”
Max slaps his hand on the rail of my treadmill, shaking his head. “Someday, you’re gonna realize what you consider boring is actually really fucking nice. Having someone you can count on, someone there at the end of every day, someone who makes you happier than you’ve ever been? That’s not a bad thing, and it’s definitely not boring.”
He saunters off, leaving me to my run — and my thoughts. Because when he was talking, telling me how nice it was to have someone?
I kept picturing Tori.
The next morning, my last day off before I head back to work, I’ve just climbed out of the shower when my phone pings with a message.
TORI: Remember the other day when you did that thing with me against the wall…
I chuckle to myself, already liking where this is going. Friends who fuck. That’s what we are, and this is the perfect example of that fact.
