He chuckled. “I try. Listen, Gideon, trust me on this Lilly thing. Once you see her, you can—and you know I hate to use this word, but for this situation, it’s fitting. You can both find some closure. Some peace.” He opened his menu, and I realized with relief that the difficult part of the dinner was officially over. “And now, speaking of the season, I might have some pointers—some ideas . . .”
13
Sarah
It was late in the afternoon at the end of what had felt like an endless week, and I was determined to leave the office before the sun set tonight. Not that I had any exciting plans; all I craved right now was my comfortable sofa, fluffy socks for my poor, aching feet and a nice glass of Pinot Noir to keep me company while I caught up on Grey’s Anatomy.
As I headed down toward the elevator, I reflected on how much my life had changed since I’d moved to San Francisco. While I loved my new job and was passionate about the work, I didn’t have anywhere near the social life here that I’d enjoyed in DC. Of course, come to think of it, that social life, aside from my occasional visits with Leo and Quinn, had been mostly centered around my work friends, none of whom had kept in touch once I’d deserted the good ship politics and decamped to the West coast.
And while I’d made a couple of casual girlfriends in San Francisco, there was still no one I wanted to hang out with on a regular basis. If I was being totally honest with myself, there was no one for whom I’d interrupt my nightly texting sessions with Gideon. And that truth scared the hell out of me.
We almost never missed a night, unless one of us had plans we couldn’t shake, and even then, we usually checked in with each other afterward. I felt as if I’d gotten to know Gideon on a deeper level, because I had a sense that he found it easier to open up about some topics when we weren’t face-to-face. I wondered if that same sense of intimacy would continue when I flew out to see him next month.
Speaking of which, that planned trip was stressing me the hell out. I didn’t know why . . . or maybe I did, and I just didn’t care to acknowledge it. Our recent text chats had skirted closer and closer to flirtation, and I wasn’t sure I was going to make it an entire week at the farm without throwing myself at Gideon and begging him to take me now. As it was, there were some nights that I had to take a cold shower after we’d been texting.
And then again, there were some nights when I just fantasized about the man himself while I put my vibrator to good use.
I blew out a breath and fanned myself with one hand just thinking about it. Gideon was undeniably hot, and once he’d begun to let me in, to reveal parts of him that he didn’t share with anyone else . . . well, was there anything sexier than a big, strong brooding man who finally gave a woman a little glimpse under the hood? I’d have to have said no.
The elevator stopped on the ground floor, and as I stepped out, I heard Kara calling my name. I halted, smiling when she waved me over.
“Sarah, are you heading home?”
I nodded. “I finished those last five press releases and sent them to you before I left.”
“Oh, thanks for doing that.” She pointed out the glass doors at the dark gray sedan parked along the curb. “Want a ride home? We could catch up on the way.”
I hesitated. While Kara was undeniably a friend, she was also my boss, and I didn’t want to take advantage of her.
“Thanks, Kara, but I don’t mind walking. I don’t want to take you out of your way.”
“Sarah.” She tilted her head. “Would I ask you if I didn’t want you in the car with me? Come on. I promise, accepting a ride doesn’t make you a boss’s pet.”
Laughing, I acquiesced, following her into the backseat of the car. We’d just merged into traffic when Kara’s phone rang.
“Oh!” Her face diffused with pleasure, she hit a button. “Hello, Quinn! What a great timing. Look who I’ve got in the car with me.” Kara turned the phone slightly, and Quinn’s face beamed out at me.
“Hey!” I smiled big, glad to see my friend. “How’s it going out there, Q?”
“All is well.” She shrugged, rolling her eyes. “I had to use lots of TLC when the Rebels didn’t make it into post-season, but we’re mostly over it now. And by we, of course, I mean Leo.”
“Quinn and I are always comparing notes on the trials and tribulations of loving a football player,” Kara explained to me. “You know the old saying about the bigger they are, the harder they fall? I’m fairly certain that was coined about the men who play the game and don’t make it to the championship. Their tender feelings are so bruised.”
I laughed, thinking about Gideon and his response to this past season. He hadn’t struck me as hurt so much as frustrated and determined to do better. But then again, maybe he hadn’t opened up and shared that pain with me.
“Your timing is perfect, Quinn.” Kara leaned back in her seat. “I was just about to ask Sarah what plans the two of you have for your visit next month.”
Sheer panic sluiced through me like water over rocks. Damn. When I’d asked Kara for a week off so that I could go to East Coast to visit friends, she had asked if I was planning to stay in New Jersey or in DC. Without thinking, I’d said I was going to Virginia, forgetting that my boss would logically assume I was flying in to see Quinn and Leo.
Quinn’s face on the screen was a study in confusion. “Are you visiting next month, Sarah? Did you talk to Leo about it? I had no idea.”
With a heavy sigh, I dropped my head into my hands. “Ughhhhh. I’m sorry, Quinn—no, I didn’t say anything to Leo. I talk to you more often than I do to him, and I’d never just pop in for a visit without clearing it with you both.”
Kara winced. “Did I just step in something here without knowing it?”
I shook my head. “Not your fault.” There was nothing else for me to do right now but to come clean with both of my friends. “I am, in fact, going to Virginia next month, but I’m actually staying with another, ah, friend.”
“Okay . . .” Quinn drew out the word. “And you weren’t even going to let us know so we could meet up for, say, dinner or something?”
“Well—no, I wasn’t going to say anything, because . . .” I swallowed, hoping Gideon wasn’t going to be furious with me for outing us like this. “I’m spending the week with Gideon at—um, on his farm. And since we’ve been trying to keep this quiet, just between us, I didn’t plan to let anyone know I was going to be in the area. I haven’t even told my mother or my sisters that I’m flying east.”
There was a long, weighted silence on the other end of the call, while in next to me, Kara’s eyes had gone wide with surprise. I slumped in the carseat and covered my eyes.
“Gideon?” Quinn spoke at last. “Gideon Maynard? You’re going to stay at his farm? And what exactly have the two of you been trying to, um, keep quiet, Sarah? And for how long?”
“We’re friends,” I stressed. “Good friends. We met at your engagement party last year, and then we just, um, kept in touch, and it turns out we get along well. But you know Gideon—”
“Not as well as you do, apparently.” Quinn wasn’t going to let me get out of this gracefully.
“—he’s so private. He hates anyone knowing his business, and God, Quinn, please, please don’t make a big deal out of this, or he might never talk to me again.”
Quinn frowned. “I just don’t even know what to say. I had no freakin’ idea that you’d even talked to Gideon. And now you’re planning to spend a week at the farm that he never invites anyone to visit? Not even Corey and Ellie Iverson have been there, and they’re the two he’s probably the friendliest with on the team.”
“The farm is Gideon’s sanctuary,” I explained. “It’s perfect for him—so peaceful and quiet—and he’s done some amazing things with the house.”
“You’ve already been there?” Quinn’s voice went up another octave.
I felt my face heat. “Yeah, I was there with him for Christmas.”
“Holy shit.” Quinn blinked rapidly. “
Holy fucking shit.”
“Uh, yeah. What she said.” Kara laughed. “You’re even better at keeping a secret than I’d thought, Sarah. Wow.”
I felt as though I was drowning, struggling to come up for air, to make sure they both understood what was between Gideon and me. “It’s not really a secret so much as both of us being discreet. I don’t feel the need to tell anyone who all my friends are.”
“But when this ‘friend’—” Quinn made the air quotes with her fingers. “—is also a friend of another friend—oh, crap, you know what I mean. Why wouldn’t you mention to me that you’d talked to Gideon and hit it off? Why didn’t you tell Leo and me that you were, what, five miles away for a whole week at Christmas?” I heard the hurt in her voice, and I hated that I’d put it there. “Leo asked me if I’d heard anything from you over the holidays. He knew you were up in New Jersey with your family, but he was surprised that you didn’t try to make it down for a couple of days, at least.”
“Quinn, I’m sorry.” It was all I could say. “I didn’t mean to keep this from you or Leo—or you, Kara.” I met my boss’s gaze, finding only sympathy there. “And this isn’t an excuse, but you’ve been kind of busy with getting married and being a newlywed. Part of being Gideon’s friend is building his trust that I’m not going to go blabbing about us around the world.”
“I hardly think I qualify as around the world,” Quinn sniffed. “What is it about my friends that all of you feel compelled to keep me in the dark when it comes to your relationships? I’ve always been an open book. You all knew about Nate, and then about Leo . . . but I didn’t know jack about Gia and Tate being a couple until my own wedding. And even though I suspected about Tuck and Zelda, she never confirmed it until they’d been practically living together.”
“Quinn.” Kara was, as always, the voice of reason. “If you were here in this car, you’d see how upset Sarah is right now. She is truly sorry for hurting you, and I think you know her well enough to realize she didn’t do it intentionally.”
Quinn sighed. “Yeah, I know.” She eyed me suspiciously through the phone. “Are you sure you’re just friends, though? And it’s not, you know, growing into something more?”
“I have to second that question,” put in Kara. “I met Gideon once a few years ago at a charity event in New York, and I have to say . . . if I was a single woman, I’d be all over that hot package.”
“Kara!” Quinn and I both chimed together in appalled shock.
“Oh, stop.” She waved her hand. “I said if, didn’t I?”
“Sarah, Gideon’s not . . . is he gay?” There was no judgment in that question, only curiosity.
“No, he’s definitely not gay.” I knew I’d put a little too much assurance in that answer when the other two women exchanged significant glances.
“Aha!” Quinn’s eyebrows shot up. “Something is happening between the two of you. Or it did. Either way, you know more about him than a friend would.”
“I’m not saying anything else.” I shook my head and mimed locking my lips. “This is my business—mine and Gideon’s.” I caught Quinn’s eye. “So I’m sorry that I hurt you, even though it was unintentional, but I’m going to ask you to please respect our privacy. Don’t say anything to Gideon, if you see him.” I struggled to put into words what I needed to say. “He’s important to me, Quinn, and I really don’t want to lose him.”
My friend’s face softened. “Okay, Sarah.” She hesitated. “But please know that you can talk to me about anything. I can be discreet, too, you know.”
“Meanwhile, I’m going to owe Sarah a glass of wine as a mea culpa for having a big mouth.” Kara chuckled. “Quinn, we’ll talk again soon. Love to Leo.”
Once the connection was cut, Kara turned to me, regret written all over her face. “I really am sorry, Sarah. I had no idea.”
“Of course, you didn’t. How could you?” I shrugged. “And it’s not your fault. I should’ve been clearer, or I should have been honest with Quinn . . . I don’t know.” I covered my face. “I feel like there’s no win here. I don’t want to upset Gideon, but do I have to protect him at the expense of my other friendships?”
“I think you already know the answer to that question.” Kara smiled at me gently. “You care for him a great deal, don’t you?”
I nodded. “More than I expected I would.”
“Ah, yes. It happens that way sometimes.” She fiddled with the strap of her purse, turning it over in her fingers. “When was your last serious relationship, Sarah?”
That felt like a very abrupt question, and I frowned. “Um . . . I don’t know what you mean by serious.”
Kara cast her eyes upward in thought. “Longer than six months. Deeper than just booty calls and friends with benefits. Someone you introduced to your family . . . someone who had the power to hurt you.”
I recoiled. “That doesn’t sound serious—it sounds unhealthy.”
“Not at all,” Kara returned. “When you love someone, that person has the power to hurt you. It would be unhealthy if he acted on that power. In a healthy, balanced relationship, both parties have that same ability, and yet neither would ever intentionally allow the hurt to happen.”
“Okay.” I nodded. “In that case . . . I guess I’d have to say I haven’t had that since high school.”
She pursed her lips in a silent whistle. “That’s a long time.”
“I’ve been busy.” I made the lame joke and then gave in. “Okay, yeah, I’ve avoided complicated relationships, and it doesn’t take a degree in psychiatry to know why. I grew up in a home where my mother gave up everything to follow a man who demonstrated at every turn that he wasn’t worth her love. He hurt her, he humiliated her and he put her down over and over again, and she kept coming back for more. I am not going to be that woman.”
“I’m certainly glad to hear that.” Kara nodded. “But please, Sarah, in your determination not to be that woman, don’t be the woman who doesn’t believe in love at all. Don’t let the man who damaged your mother take away that opportunity from you. Don’t miss out on what could be a really good thing.”
Tears filled my eyes, and I pinched the bridge of my nose to stave them off. “I’m trying, Kara. But holy hell, thinking about taking a risk like that is fucking scary.” I fumbled for a tissue in my purse and dabbed at my nose. “Maybe that’s why Gideon is so appealing to me. He’s always sworn he’s not looking for anything deep. We really are friends, and I love him as my friend. We talk to each other every day, about everything, and there’s nothing I wouldn’t tell him.”
“Isn’t there?” Kara murmured, but before I could do more than frown at her question, she waved her hand. “Don’t mind me. I just worry about all of my girls. You know, as much as I loved having a son, as much as I adored my Gunner while I had him, I always thought I’d be a good mother to daughters. It never happened for me, but then Quinn came into my life, and now I have you, too. I know we’re friends . . . I’m not quite old enough to be your mother–” She winked at me. “But still, I hope you know I’m always willing to listen. I love you, Sarah Jenkins, and I want the absolute best for you, no matter what.”
I sniffled. “Same goes, Kara. I’m so grateful that Quinn introduced us, and my life here has been amazing.” I shredded the tissue between my fingers. “But I’m not going to lie. I think maybe I do want more with Gideon . . . and at the same time, I’m terrified of getting it. Am I crazy?”
Kara’s eyes twinkled. “No more than any of us, dear one . . . and have a little faith. Sometimes what frightens us the most is exactly what we need to make our lives complete.”
I nodded, but Kara’s advice shook me. What if I wasn’t brave enough to take that leap into the dark unknown, going after what I wanted with Gideon? Or what if it turned out that Gideon didn’t want me the way I suspected I needed him?
And most terrifying of all . . . what if I didn’t go for it and got to the end of my life only to realize I’d missed out on something wonderfu
l?
14
Gideon
“Gideon. Hello.”
I stood in the corridor of the hotel, rooted in place. I’d just raised my hand to knock on the door of Lilly’s hotel room, but before I could do so, she’d opened it, appearing in the doorway as if I’d summoned her.
“Hey.” It was all I could manage, and my voice was so hoarse, so rusty, it sounded as though I hadn’t spoken in a month. I cleared my throat and tried again. “Hey, Lilly. You look good.”
I’d rehearsed what to say, and that had been my practiced line, but as I looked at my ex-girlfriend, I realized that my words were true. She did look good. Her blonde hair was cut shorter than it had been when we were together. Her skin was still beautifully translucent. But her eyes—those were what I noticed the most. Those crystal blue eyes that used to dance with laughter all the time had dulled to a frightening stillness in the wake of her attack. That had broken my heart on a daily basis.
But now, there was life in her eyes once again, and if they didn’t quite dance, at least I could still spy a hint of humor.
“Better than I did the last time you saw me, I’m sure,” she answered ruefully. “Come on in, Gideon.”
I followed her into the suite, glancing around the room. “This is nice.”
“Thanks. I’m working for a company that promotes audiobooks, and we’ve had a very good year. Staying in the penthouse is one of my perks.” She pointed to a chair in the sitting room area. “Won’t you sit down?”
I did, feeling a little like I’d stepped into a bizzaro world, a strange alternate dimension. Lilly was so familiar in so many ways—how she graciously offered me something to drink, poured us each a glass of ice water and then perched on the sofa across from me. So much was the same, and yet, at the same time, three years had passed between us—and we were both different people.
Sway (Keeping Score Book 6) Page 25