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Sarah ground her teeth together. She didn’t need Syed distracting her. Nor did she want him reminding her of what she could have been doing, and how she could have been living.
It is. She sent the message without thinking, and grabbed Lexi’s towel, holding it wide for the little girl to step into.
Her phone buzzed in her hand. She ignored it, wrapping the towel around Lexi. “Okay, let’s get what we need from your room.”
After Lexi was dressed, Sarah grabbed the gifts Syed had sent, and Lexi’s favourite bear, and carried them downstairs, Lexi hot on her heels, then ran back up and retrieved the candles. It was only once Lexi had feasted on some peanut butter and jelly sandwiches and fallen asleep that Sarah remembered her phone.
She lifted it up and stared at the screen. There were two messages from Syed.
I’d like to see you again.
And then, twenty minutes later, he’d written, I think you’d like it, too.
She slammed her phone down angrily. The problem was that he was right. She would like it.
Almost as much as she’d like to have the electricity back on and not be counting every damned penny.
*
“How can you not feel sorry for them?” Sarah stared across the table in disbelief, her fingers curled around the ice cold glass of beer. Beneath the table, she crossed her legs, her spare hand curling over her knee in an idle gesture that showed she was listening intently. After the week she’d had, this accidental catch-up was proving to be just what she’d needed. She’d turned up for a shift at Larry’s only to realise she’d got her dates mixed up and that she wasn’t rostered on. “I’d keep you on, kid, but we’re already over-staffed for the crowd we’ve got.”
“It’s not that.” Dave shook his head, his mop of blonde hair flopping over his shoulder. He’d come to the bar straight from work; his lumber jack shirt was pushed up the elbows, revealing tanned, muscled forearms, and he smelled faintly of the pine forests he spent his days felling. “I just don’t see why it’s our problem, necessarily.”
Sarah reached across the table, grabbing his chin firmly, to tilt his head towards the TV in the corner of the bar. “Look at her.” The refugee on screen was a mother, perhaps in her early thirties, and her face was lined with the kind of grief most people will never comprehend. She held a baby on her hip, and the subtitles running across the bottom of the screen explained, in words that did little to adequately give insight into her loss, that her five-year-old daughter had drowned at sea, during the crossing. “Isn’t her suffering something you want to shoulder?”
Dave curled his fingers over Sarah’s, loosening her grip from his face and lowering her hand to the table. He held it between them, his bright blue eyes locking to hers. “I’m sorry for what she’s goin’ through. Of course I am. But we start letting everyone in and suddenly we’re not us anymore.”
“That’s absurd. You think our identity is so fragile?”
“No.” His fingers were stroking her hand. She didn’t notice. She didn’t notice much anymore; not when it came to physical contact. Syed had blown her out of the water; her body now responded only to him. Thoughts of him, dreams of him. That was it.
It had been five days.
Had she expected him to follow her?
To find her?
To chase her?
He’d got what he’d wanted. Apart from those few text messages the day she got back to Iron Oaks, he’d been silent.
And could she blame him?
She’d been horrifyingly easy, and now she could only regret the eagerness with which she’d tumbled back into his bed. Dave was quiet, his eyes intent on Sarah’s.
Shoot.
He’d asked a question and she had no idea what.
“Do you want another drink?” He prompted, eyeing her beer. It had a couple of sips left, but his had been empty a while.
Maybe the drink had been a mistake, after all.
Sitting in a booth with a guy she considered to be a friend, who’d made it obvious he wanted more; a guy who was actually a pretty fantastic prospect for Mr. Right was one hundred thousand kinds of wrong.
Because she felt nothing for him.
“Ummm,” she bit down on her lip, wondering if she should call it a night instead.
