by Vivian Wood
Sawyer smiled, his first in days. “All right.”
“All right?”
“All right.”
And that was enough, for the moment.
22
Back at the ranch, Sawyer showered and shaved before finally powering his phone back on. A few missed calls from Merissa, two from Remy. Three from a number with a 202 area code.
Washington D.C.
Could be anything, but…
He called back, figuring he needed a clear mind to deal with Remy.
“Hello?” came a woman’s voice.
“This is Sawyer Roman. I missed a few calls from this number.”
“Oh, Sawyer. Yes. This is Ariana Craig.”
Craig. As in, the wife of Darren Craig, his former unit commander. Also the only other person to make it out of their unit alive.
Sawyer’d only met Darren’s wife once, at a gala raising money for veterans, but he remembered her being a friendly face in a sea of strange civilians.
“Ariana,” he said, a dark feeling welling in the pit of his belly. “What can I do for you?”
“Well…” she said, her voice breaking. “I’m sorry. I wanted you to hear from me personally. Darren passed away two days ago.”
His heart skipped a full beat.
“But he was released from the hospital, wasn’t he? That’s what I was told.”
She drew a breath, shaky even over the phone line.
“He was never the same after he came back. I’m afraid…” she trailed off, sniffling. “I’m afraid he took his own life.”
Fuck.
“Ariana, I’m so sorry.”
“It’s… well, it’s not okay, but… I was hoping you might be able to come to the memorial service. It’s tomorrow. I know that’s short notice.”
“Of course. Whatever you need,” he said, gripping the phone tight.
“I’ll have someone send over the details.”
“Of course,” he repeated, completely at a loss for what to say.
“See you tomorrow.”
The call ended, leaving him staring down at his phone, his mind blank. He sat down on his bed, heart heavy, thoughts churning.
“Fuck,” he said again.
Darren had left the SEALs months after Sawyer did. Though they’d been close as brothers during the time they served together, after returning stateside…
They’d both made attempts to see each other, spend time together, but it was always a drag. They couldn’t talk about the explosion, couldn’t talk about their guilt, so it just hung between them in the air.
Poisoned their friendship.
Drove them apart.
Sawyer hadn’t even known that Darren was struggling to reintegrate. Now he was gone, just one more person that Sawyer had let down.
Laying back on his bed, he closed his eyes and said a prayer… not just for Darren, but for himself.
God, please don’t let this be the sum of who I am. I can be more, be better. I know it…
23
Sawyer jumped when he heard a knock on his door a few hours later. When he swung the door open, Remy stood on the other side, eyes wide and nervous.
“Hi,” she said. “Can I come in?”
“Uh…” he said, turning to look at his apartment. It was a bit of a mess, clothes strewn across the bed as he packed for his trip. “Sure.”
He held the door open for her and she stepped in, noting his suitcase.
“Taking off?” she asked, clearing her throat.
“No, no,” he said, closing the door. “Well… just for a trip.”
“I thought maybe we would talk before you, um…” she slowed, waving her hand at the suitcase. “Did whatever you’re doing here.”
“Rem… it’s… I have to go to a funeral,” he said, rubbing a hand over the stubble on his jaw.
“Oh!” she said, turning sympathetic in an instant. “Oh, I’m so sorry.”
“Yeah. It’s… you know, the night I got drunk? The last surviving member of my unit, he…”
He couldn’t finish.
Remy came over and opened her arms, giving him a warning look before she encircled him in a tight hug. He let her, leaning into the embrace.
It felt… well, nice wasn’t the word.
Incredible.
That was closer.
“I’m going with you.”
Sawyer hadn’t realized that he’d let his eyes close. He opened them, pulled back, and looked at Remy.
“Sorry?”
“I’m going with you.”
“To… the funeral?” he asked, confused.
“Yep.”
“Why?”
“Because you need someone. And we need to talk anyway.”
“And you don’t think this is, perhaps, terrible timing?”
“Look. I saw you before, that night you got all drunk and sad. You need support, and I could use a night away.”
“I haven’t even decided if I’ve forgiven you yet,” he said, point-blank.
Remy blinked. “Well… we both have a lot to forgive.”
That gave him pause.
“Fair enough.”
“All right. I need to pack. When’s the flight?”
He stared at Remy for a second, feeling overwhelmed. She was so no-nonsense, bossy almost. A side he hadn’t really seen of her, perhaps due to her responsibilities as a mom.
“What about… Shiloh?” he asked, the name sounding foreign on his tongue.
“My parents will take care of him for a night,” she said. “He loves my mother more than anyone else on the whole planet.”
Sawyer stood, paced to the window. “I want to meet him.”
“You will.”
He looked back at Remy, whose expression was endlessly patient.
“Okay.”
“Okay?” she asked.
“Okay. Go pack. The flight’s in four hours, I’ll get you a ticket.”
Her brows arched, but she just nodded. “Okay. Come pick me up on your way?”
“Sure,” he said, marveling at how very very adult they were both being about the whole thing.
“Sawyer?” she asked as she opened the door.
“Yeah?”
“It’s going to be okay.”
He watched her face for another heartbeat, then nodded. She gave him a half smile, then let herself out.
24
I can’t believe I’m standing here right now, Remy thought.
She looked around at the sea of unfamiliar faces at the wake, lots of men and women in Navy dress whites crowded in a ballroom. Plenty of people in black too, like Remy…
But they were spouses, parents, friends. None of them were quite in her… unique situation.
After she’d gathered all her courage and gone way out on a limb to invite herself to follow Sawyer to D.C., it seemed dumb to be as nervous as she was right now.
For the most part, she was just a blonde in a fancy dress, following Sawyer around as he shook hands with various people. He’d stopped introducing her after the first few, because it was too awkward.
“This is Remy, my… friend,” he’d said, frowning.
Meanwhile, Remy was blushing red to the roots of her hair as she shook hands with a serious-looking silver-haired man in uniform.
There was that word again, friend. Sawyer liked to throw that around, didn’t he?
Then again, there wasn’t much of a better word for it. Baby mama was too trite. Ex-girlfriend was too… finite.
So she’d drifted to the side of the room, accepting a glass of champagne. Watching Sawyer from afar, trying not to let his dress uniform do wicked things to her brain.
Failing, totally and completely.
He looked beyond handsome, and from this distance Remy could actually watch other women reacting to Sawyer. He turned heads, made women bite their lips and give him longing looks when they thought his head was turned.
Not that Remy could judge them. She wasn’t any better, over here in the corner all longing
while he was mourning his friend.
Adding to the awkwardness, they still hadn’t talked.
When she climbed into his SUV, he’d quietly asked if she could wait until after the funeral to deal with all the rest of it.
“Of course,” she’d said, and she’d meant it.
So they’d slept in different hotel rooms, met up before the funeral service. She’d held his hand during the internment, Sawyer watching the casket lower into the ground, so tense that she was worried he might faint.
After that, he’d seemed to need distance. So she bided her time, checking and rechecking her phone to see if her mother had called. Any minute now, she was going to sneak out and call Shiloh, just to check in.
“He’s something, isn’t he?”
Remy turned to find a statuesque brunette standing beside her, holding a matching champagne flute. In a curve-hugging black dress that showed off her fit, tanned body, no less.
“Sorry?” Remy asked, unsure if the woman was talking to her but not seeing anyone else around.
“Sawyer. I saw that you two arrived together.” The brunette’s lips curved in a humorless smile.
“Oh. Uh… we’re…” Remy started, then stopped. “Sorry, who are you?”
“Merissa,” she said, extending an elegant hand. “His girlfriend.”
Remy’s mouth opened, but no sound came out for a second.
“Oh,” was all she managed.
“Yeah. It’s funny, when he texted last night to say he was in town, I wasn’t expecting… well, I’m not sure why he brought you along. Third wheel, much?” she said, giving a little laugh. “That Sawyer, never thinking with the right head, huh?”
She tapped her temple. Remy blinked, immediately off-put.
“He’s never mentioned you,” Remy said slowly, canting her head to the side.
“Funny, I was about to say the same thing about you.”
Merissa gave her an indulgent smile, then tsked. “Men, huh?”
“Right,” Remy said, feeling cornered.
“Yeah. You know what’s so great about Sawyer, though? We always pick right up where we left off. Kinky sex, right out the gate. You know what I mean?” Merissa asked with a sly grin.
“Um, no?” Remy said, furrowing her brow.
“Oh… well. Don’t worry about it.” Merissa patted her arm.
“Will you excuse me?” Remy asked, putting her glass down on a table.
“Of course,” Merissa practically purred.
Heels clicking, Remy crossed the ballroom’s marble floor, headed straight for Sawyer. He turned and noticed her, giving her a nod but continuing his conversation with an elegant older woman.
“Would you mind if I borrowed him for a second?” Remy asked the woman, putting on her sweetest smile.
“Oh… sure,” the woman said, giving them a knowing look.
“Remy, what are you doing?” Sawyer asked as she dragged him off by the arm.
She towed him out of the ballroom toward a side hallway before rounding on him.
“I just met Merissa.”
Sawyer’s expression tightened. “Did you, now?”
“Yeah. She introduced herself to me as your girlfriend.”
“She’s a liar.”
“Was she lying when she said that you texted her last night when we got into town?”
Sawyer hesitated, then shook his head. “No. I did text her. I knew she was going to be… around.”
“Interesting,” Remy said, crossing her arms.
“It’s not what you think.”
“You don’t know what I think.”
“I wasn’t trying to see her last night or anything.”
“That’s good to know. You weren’t just going to hook up with her, with me in the next room?”
“Remy, don’t be like this.”
“Is she your girlfriend?”
“No.”
“Were you two together?”
His gaze narrowed. “Yes.”
“Did you break things off with her before…” Remy paused, taking a breath. “Before you spent the night with me?”
His expression darkened. “No. It wasn’t like that between us.”
“No?”
“I mean, between me and Merissa.”
“I can see why this would be very confusing for you.”
“Remy…” he tried.
“No, you know what? This was my fault. I thought we’d both grown up, that there was a chance for us to find a path forward, together. But…” she said, shaking her head. “I think I was just looking for a fairytale where one cannot exist.”
Turning, she started for the door.
“Where are you going?” Sawyer called.
She slowed, then turned. “I have a kid to take care of. I get that you have a lot going on, but… I can’t wait around to see if you maybe want to be with me, or maybe want to be with Merissa, or… whatever. I have Shiloh to think about.”
“Remy, don’t leave—”
But she was out the door, feeling like Cinderella fleeing the ball. She rushed over to a cab and climbed in, not looking back.
She shouldn’t have come here. It wasn’t where she belonged, not with things between her and Sawyer so up in the air.
There was one man who’d never let her down, though…
And if she got on a plane in the next hour, she just might make it home in time to tuck him into bed.
25
Sawyer upended the tumbler of whiskey, draining the last drops and crunching the ice cubes. He was a little drunk, a little jet-lagged, and extremely fucking confused about the argument he’d had with Remy.
He sat up at the sleek black marble bar, an amenity of his hotel that he’d only just discovered. After he checked Remy’s room and found her gone, he’d come down here for a drink.
Which turned into three.
“There you are.”
He looked up to find Merissa sliding onto the bar stool beside him, wearing a skimpy little lace number. She leaned close, making sure he got an eyeful of her cleavage, then put her hand on his thigh.
“Merissa,” he said, removing her hand. “Speak of the Devil.”
“Oh, you flatter me,” she said, laughing. She was very proud of her dazzling white smile and her big fake tits, making the most she could of both. It worked on most men, always got her what she wanted.
Hell, it had worked on him for half a year.
Today, though, he looked at Merissa and just thought… phony.
“Why are you here?” he asked.
“You texted me last night.”
“Yeah, because I wanted to tell you in person that I’m with someone else,” he said, raising his hand to the bartender to order another round.
“Hmm, and yet….” Merissa glanced around. “No cute little country blonde present. What happened, you two have a fight?”
She pretended to pout, leaning close again to flash her half-bared breasts at him.
“Yeah. Thanks for that, by the way.”
“Sounds like a fairweather friend.”
He gave Merissa a sharp look. “You don’t know shit about it. That woman’s been through hell and back on my account.”
“Puh-lease,” Merissa said, rolling her eyes.
“She had my baby. Never asked me for anything. Not that you’d understand that.”
Merissa’s expression turned sullen. “I never asked you for anything, either.”
“No, but that didn’t stop you from meddling, did it?”
“How could I have known that I was meddling? It wasn’t like you ever told me you were together with someone. Just like you never told me you left D.C.”
He pulled a face, but she was right. “Fine. I’m sorry.”
Merissa’s brows rose. “An apology? Well, color me shocked.”
“I’m trying to learn from my mistakes.”
He knocked back half the whiskey in his glass, winced.
“Yeah, I don’t think you’re really on the rig
hteous path right now,” Merissa said.
“You’re one to talk.”
Merissa’s dark eyes narrowed.
“Yeah,” Sawyer said. “I know you were Darren’s mistress, Merissa. I’m not stupid.”
Hurt flashed on her face. “You don’t know anything about it.”
“I know that you cared about him, and that he chose his wife and new baby over you.”
“Excuse me, bartender!” she called. “I’ll have what he’s having.”
“See, the righteous path is harder than it looks,” Sawyer said.
“Don’t gloat. It’s not a good quality for a father.”
Sawyer almost choked on the next sip of his drink.
A father, she’d called him. She wasn’t wrong, of course. It was just… he’d never considered himself that way before.
“Can I give you some advice?” Merissa asked.
He slid her a glance. “Do I have a choice?”
“No.”
“Go ahead,” he said with a shrug.
“Your blonde. Do you love her?”
He sat his glass down a little harder than he intended.
“It’s complicated.”
“No, it’s not. Not talking about the fact that she had your kid, or whatever past you have together. Do you love her? Could you spend your life with her?” Merissa asked, pinning him with an intense expression.
He thought about it. Remy was beautiful and kind. She was smart and funny, and determined. She cared about him, her capacity for love seemingly endless. When he was with her, he felt… lighter. Happier.
So yeah, maybe the whole kid and family thing was still stressing him the hell out. Enough that he couldn’t even delve into his feelings surrounding being a father, not quite yet.
But just Remy, herself?
“Yeah,” he said at last. “I love her.”
“Then what the hell are you doing here?” Merissa asked. “If you love someone, you don’t let anything or anyone keep you apart. Me and Darren? We had problems that couldn’t be fixed. You, though? From where I’m sitting, all you have to do is reach out and take what you want.”
He stared at her, dumbstruck for a minute. “Jesus. That’s… like, inspirational.”
“I’m fucking Yale educated,” Merissa said, standing up. “Being hot doesn’t preclude me from being intelligent.”