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I had let my phone die while I was in the hospital and never bothered to charge it back up. What’s the point? I have no one to call, no one I want to hear from, and after that damn article, I don’t want to field questions from reporters either.
That means I’ve been off the grid for two entire weeks, which is a lifetime in the age of technology. When I pull up my email, it’s overflowing with messages. Sadly, I realize that this is it. This is my life. Back to sitting in this room, working with clients on tracking down criminals who threaten corporate bigwigs, and working out in my basement.
Jesus. I don’t know what’s worse, that I feel so pathetic now that I’ve had a life or that I didn’t realize how pathetic I was before.
I plug in my phone and start answering emails. There are quite a few from Sasha, which I childishly delete without reading. I don’t need her butting in and reminding me that Gavin fell on his sword for me by giving that interview. Then he up and vanished while I was recovering from a gunshot wound! How she can defend that, I have no clue.
I sort the rest of the emails into current clients and future clients and delete all of the garbage ones. As I’m reading a message from the office of a high profile investment banker who has a potential disgruntled ex-employee threatening him, my phone chirps to life.
Dozens of text messages flood the screen, each one accompanied by an electronic beep. The voicemail icon pops up, letting me know I have fifteen unheard messages. Again, I delete everything from Sasha. I’ll deal with her later—maybe in a week or ten, when I’m not still pissed off at her for taking Gavin’s side.
The only thing that catches my eye is a voicemail from two weeks ago. It says it’s from Gavin.
My chest squeezes painfully and I suddenly feel nauseous. Despite knowing that listening will most likely drive the knife in deeper, I can’t resist.
Mitch…
Gavin’s seductive voice floats up from the speaker, but it’s not smooth and clear like it usually is. His voice cracks and wavers as he stumbles through the recording.
I-I’m so sorry for dragging you into my shit. And… for what happened. I’ll fix it, baby. I just… I’ll do my best to get this asshole off of you.
There’s a long pause. The silence filled with Gavin’s staccato breaths.
Don’t worry about me. Just… get better, okay? I-I should go.
A loud announcement blares in the background.
They’re calling my flight. So… I guess this is it. I’ll miss you and thanks… shit.
The phone fumbles and disconnects. I play it again, listening to the tortured sound of his words, the despair conveyed with every painful silence. Now I can see why Sasha defended him. He’s just as torn up about this as me, maybe more.
Then why did he leave?
The answer is so obvious, even an idiot like me can figure it out.
Gavin Walker cares. Maybe, he even loves me.
Gavin
“Sadie! Don’t eat the sand, love!”
Ellie laughs at her husband, Adam, as he hustles over to their fifteen-month old daughter right as she shoves another handful of sand in her mouth.
I grin at her antics. “She’s walking,” I comment from my beach chair next to Ellie.
“She is. Started a month ago. It’s horrible,” Ellie giggles. “It’s exhausting keeping up with her.”
“Adam seems to do okay,” I point out.
“He does,” she agrees. Ellie shades her eyes to watch Adam rinse off their daughter in the low surf. Memories of playing on the beach a few miles from here with Sydney Tannen while our parents watched flick through my brain. I shake my head—that seems like a lifetime ago.
I take a moment to glance at all the familiar faces. After hiding in my house for the past two weeks, Hawke insisted I throw a post-tour beach party. I resisted, but he was a persistent ass who wouldn’t give up.
In retrospect, I’m glad he did. It’s nice to get outside, see my friends having fun, but any joy I feel is fleeting and false. I still feel as if my insides have been removed, shredded, and put back together incorrectly. Everything that used to make me happy does nothing for me now.
Ellie sighs. “It’s not too late, you know.”
“What?” I take a sip of my drink and watch our friends play volleyball. Dax growls after Hawke spikes the ball at Kate, who is four months pregnant and radiant in her lime green bikini.
