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“Getting clothes for Emmy.” I head for the closet, putting my back to Wes so I’m not tempted to look at him. I drop my purse and keys on the floor and pull the folding doors open.
“What clothes could you possibly have for Emmy?”
“More like accessories. Hats and scarves and other things Dad got me.” I push hangers aside one by one, searching for the items I know have to be here somewhere.
“Want help?”
“No.”
The bed creaks as he lifts himself off it and comes to join me.
“I said I’m good.”
“I heard you.” He starts at the other end working his way toward me. He has no idea what he’s looking for, but pointing that out would just lead to more conversation, so I keep my mouth shut.
We search in silence, which is why I notice the exact moment he stops moving.
“What?” I’m careful to keep my eyes forward so I don’t have to look at him, but I can’t help noticing the dress he pulls off the rack. The bridesmaid dress I wore to our parents’ wedding. And prom.
“I always loved you in this dress,” he says absently.
I snort.
“You don’t believe me?”
“Not really.”
He hangs the dress up and reaches for his wallet. Opening it, he pulls a picture from one of the sleeves designed to hold a credit card. He holds it out to me. I take it gingerly. It’s crinkled around the edges, but the image is clear. Wes and I standing arm in arm at our parents’ wedding. We’re actually smiling.
“What…?” I blink up at him.
“The picture Lisa took of us. I liked it so much I had a copy printed.”
“But how…?”
“She sent a copy to your mom. I asked Jen to forward it to me.” He takes it back carefully, studying it for a second before putting it back in his wallet.
“It’s more than a little creepy that you carry that.” I turn my focus back to the closet.
“Most women find it sweet.”
“Most women? You show all your girlfriends pictures of your stepsister?” The hangers rattle as I forcefully slide them over the rack to find the scarf I’m looking for.
“I show my friends a picture of the most important person in my life.”
“Took a few too many hits to the head I see. You’re getting all confused.”
“What?”
“You should be carrying around a picture of a football. We both know that’s what you live for.” I sink to the floor under the guise of looking for the scarf, putting more distance between us. Without warning I’m plucked from the ground and pinned against the wall.
“I’m getting awfully tired of you telling me I chose the game over you.” His face is inches from mine, his eyes piercing in their intensity. I can feel the anger radiating off him, but instead of making me angry in return it makes my stomach flutter.
“You can’t deny the truth, Wes.”
“That isn’t the truth, Sawyer.” His gaze bores into mine, daring me to object.
“I was there, remember? I know what I heard. I was a mistake.” I seethe, blinking to sever our connection.
