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“Are you serious?” He scowls. “Look at us. Look at what we do to each other. You expect me to believe you don’t feel it?”
“Feel what? Lust? Sure, I feel it,” I admit, because it’d be futile not to. “But I don’t confuse lust with love. Not anymore.”
“This isn’t just lust. It never was.”
“Of course it was. Just this once–ring any bells? That was lust. We kept giving in to it.”
“I never wanted anything between us to be just once. You know that.” He shakes his head.
“What I know is you’re my stepbrother, and that’s all you’ll ever be.” I grab my purse and keys from where I dropped them on the floor and race out of the room.
“Sawyer,” he calls after me.
I hear his heavy footsteps on the stairs behind me, but I’ve got too big a head start. I’m in the car by the time he makes it to the front door.
I back out as he watches helplessly, but I only make it as far as the end of the block before I have to pull over because I can’t see through my tears.
It’s not fair. Why is Wes back in my life now, just as I was starting to reclaim it? Why is he still the only man who can make me feel? Why is he so determined to make me relive the past?
When I can’t cry anymore, I drive to the mall. It’s the last thing I want to do, but I don’t want to go home empty handed. And Emmy’s sweet face is about the only thing that might put a smile on mine.
Wes
Islapthedoorwith my palm. The nerves in my hand ignite, searing through my wrist until it’s left throbbing and numb. I had hoped the pain would help ease the anger boiling inside me, but it doesn’t. It only makes me want to hit something else. Harder.
How did things blow up so fast? One minute, Sawyer’s in my arms, kissing me like she’s starved. The next she’s running away, determined to believe the past doesn’t exist. My version of it anyway.
I know I hurt her with that comment about our timing being bad and needing to wait to get serious, but it’s like that’s the only part of the conversation she remembers. Regardless, she won’t even give me a chance to explain why I said it in the first place. Does that leave any hope for us to have a future?
Shit. Maybe coming back here was a bad idea. Sawyer is clearly determined to shut me out, and if that was hard to handle living in different cities, I can’t imagine it will get any easier when we’re in the same town. That isifshe sticks with her plan to move here. I’m not ready to give up. I’m not ready to concede there’s nothing between us. If that kiss is any indication, she knows it, she just won’t admit it. Unfortunately, that leaves me with no clue where to go from here.
I retreat to the family room, hoping some Sports Center will distract me. It usually does. But knowing the very thing that calms me is a roadblock with Sawyer means I can’t get lost in the commentary the way I usually do. Instead, I stare at the screen, hearing nothing but my own thoughts.
“Don’t you get all this information at work?” Pop takes a seat next to me and hands me one of the beer bottles he’s holding.
“What time is it?” I take a sip.
“Almost six. What time did you think it was?”
“Too early for a beer,” I mutter, wondering just how long I’ve been sitting here.
“Yeah, you seem a little distracted.” He takes a sip. “Want to talk about it?”
Pop and I are close. Much closer than any of my friends are with their fathers, and there’s very little I don’t tell him. Sawyer is the exception. I’m sure he knows something happened. He’s too smart not to suspect a deeper reason behind the distance between us, but he’s never asked, and I’ve never offered. I take another sip, wondering if it's smart or foolish to speak up now.
“Why don’t I get you started?” he says. “You’re in love with Sawyer.”
I choke on my beer. Patting my shirt dry gives me a precious few seconds to collect myself.
“Come again?” We both know I heard him the first time, I’m just not ready to admit it.
“This will go a whole lot easier if you stop pretending you didn’t hear me right.”
I take a deep breath. I’ve played on some of the biggest stages there are, with millions of people watching. Those game-time jitters are nothing compared to how I feel right now.
I rub at the wet spot on my shirt, wondering how best to answer. That Iwasin love with her, or still am. “Colt told you?”
“Colt? I should’ve figured he knew,” Pop snorts with a subtle shake of his head. “But no, I don’t need Colt to tell me what I can see for myself.”
