Sawyer groaned. “It’s more complicated than that.” He gave Cade an encapsulated version of events.
“Dude, really?” Cade threw his hands up. “Only one thing matters. Do you love her?”
“I’m not sure I’ve ever stopped loving her.”
Understanding flared in Cade’s eyes. While Cade could be tough and closed-off, something of their father resided in his eyes and voice and attitude. “Then you have to go get her, don’t you?”
If Cade wouldn’t think he was losing his mind, he would give his brother a long, hard hug. God, he’d missed him the years he’d been gone. Missed his no-nonsense advice and steadying force.
“I would run by the hardware store for knee pads though.” The hint of dark humor was all Cade. “You’re going to need to grovel your way out of this one. Take the rest of the afternoon off and handle your shit.”
Cade walked off, shaking his head and muttering to himself.
Was his brother right? Of course, he was. Sawyer washed up in the shop sink and headed out. Cade was in the break room. Their eyes met for a second. Cade tipped his chin and transferred his attention back to Terry, smiling and murmuring something Sawyer couldn’t hear.
He drove over the steel-girded bridge and spotted her at the gazebo talking to Nash Hawthorne. He parked next to Nash’s Defender and took a few seconds for a silent pep talk. He could do this. It was only his heart and future happiness on the line.
Regan and Nash watched him approach, her face unreadable. He would have preferred hurt or anger over coldness. It reminded him too much of the months after their breakup. She had told him she’d been as broken as he had been during that time even if it hadn’t showed. Maybe she was feeling the same now.
“I need to talk to you.” He hoped he didn’t sound as desperate as he felt.
“I guess you heard. It’s going to happen. No use in talking me out of it. Nash thinks it’s a great idea, don’t you?’
Nash sidestepped away and looked at his bare wrist. “Wow, look at the time. I need a drink, so I’ll let you two discuss things and stuff.”
Regan huffed at his back as he jogged toward the walking bridge, probably headed for Tally’s gym.
“What idea does Nash think is great, and I’m supposed to know about?”
“The jambalaya.”
“What jambalaya?”
“The crayfish jambalaya Cottonbloom, Mississippi, will be selling during the Tomato Festival.” Her chin rose and her eyes flashed.
“What the hell, Regan! Where are you getting the crayfish?”
“Mr. Holcomb’s cousin down in Macon. It’s going to be delicious. Way better than some pathetic po’boys.”
She was probably right. Ripe tomatoes and fresh-caught crayfish made for the best jambalaya. She’d reneged on their agreement for the same reasons she’d cut him out of her life for so many years. She was hurt and she cared about him. At least the years had left him with that small amount of wisdom.
As maddening and frustrating as she could be, he loved her. “Cade told me you stopped by the shop.”
She crossed her arms and shrugged, looking somewhere over his shoulder.
“I’m not sure what you think you saw or why you hightailed it off, but Terry Lowe is a customer.”
“You’re working on a reputation for excellent customer service.” Her eyes flitted to his for a second. He recognized the pain. “She’s very pretty.”
“Not as pretty as you are.” The compliment landed with the weight of an anvil. “You have to trust me, Regan.”
“Why? We aren’t in a relationship. You made it perfectly clear you only wanted to have sex with me. Maybe that’s what you want with her too?”
He ran a hand through his hair and sent his gaze skyward.
“Don’t you roll your eyes at me.” She shoved his shoulder. “Why should I trust you when all you do is betray it?”
He clenched his teeth together. Anger finally won out. “I didn’t sleep with that girl in college, and I won’t ever sleep with Terry Lowe. I feel like an ass for treating you like I did the other night. Your mother—” He bit off his words. No use in blaming the woman. He’d been the one to screw up. “You should trust me because I love you. I loved you then and I love you now and I’ve never stopped. Think about that and come find me if you think you might love me and can trust me. If you can’t then don’t bother.”
He stormed back to his truck and took off back over the bridge. Only one thing would soothe him. The river.
Chapter Twenty-two
Sawyer drove off leaving her ripped apart and vulnerable. He loved her. Had always loved her. Even spoken in anger, she sensed the truth behind his words. Or maybe because they had been spoken in anger, she believed him. She had broken her promise to him, yet he still loved her.
Something else he said niggled at her. Her mother. What about her mother?
She tore through town and pulled into her parents’ driveway behind her mother’s high-end Mercedes. Not bothering with the bell, she opened the door to Donny and Marie yipping and jumping around her legs.
They trailed her into the sunroom where her mother was lazing on a couch, flipping through a glossy fashion magazine. “Did you say something to Sawyer?”
Her mother looked up while turning another page. “He stopped by on Sunday while I was deadheading roses. Is that what you mean?”
“What did you say to him, Mother?”
“Only the truth.”
The truth as her mother saw it, no doubt. “What exactly did you say?”
“That you were reliving your wild past with him. Isn’t that about right?”
“It’s nowhere near right. We are—were—are trying to build something new. I love him, Mother. He’s a good man. I’m sorry if he’s not what you envisioned for me, but he’s what I want. What I’ve always wanted.”
Her mother slapped the magazine shut and swung her legs off the couch. “What about Andrew Tarwater?”
“What about him?”
“You two went on a date recently. Did it not go well?”
“It wasn’t a date; it was a business dinner to discuss refurbishing the Tarwater offices.”
Her mother huffed a sigh and smiled a smile that sent the hairs on the back of her neck up. “Regan-honey, you could have Andrew Tarwater eating out of your hand and a ring on your finger by New Year’s if you put your mind to it. You and he would make a fine match.”
“Ohmigod, will you listen to yourself? You don’t even care what I want. What’s best for me. All you care about is yourself. You poisoned me against Sawyer because of your prejudices. And then you tried to do the same to him.” Thunder rumbled in the distance. A purple stain was spreading across the sky to the west.
She headed toward the door, her mother and the dogs behind her. Her mother grabbed her arm, the perfectly manicured French tips in contrast to the veined tendons of her hand. Even her mother couldn’t fight the march of time.
“Don’t go. Wait until the storm passes through. It looks bad.” Her mother sounded truly worried. But Regan couldn’t be sure it wasn’t another one of her mother’s manipulation tactics.
She stared at the gathering storm and muttered, “I wasted too much time already.”
She turned her car toward the state line. Too many wasted years between then and now. Too many years where she’d been treading water. If only she’d been stronger then and stood up to her mother. If only she’d given Sawyer a chance to explain.
He loved her. The tingly warmth started somewhere in her chest and spread outward. He had always loved her. She believed him. Trusted him. Would he believe her? Could he trust her not to turn her back again?
She turned down his long driveway, her little car shimmying with crosscurrents of air. The sky had darkened further, turning an eerie purple-black. The bright sunshine of the morning was engulfed, giving the impression of twilight even though it was only late afternoon.
His truck was out front. The wind tore the ca
r door out of her hands and bounced it open. Pine needles and leaves whipped around her legs with enough force to sting her bare skin. She kicked off her heels and ran around the side of the house to pound on the door. No answer.
She made for the metal shed, the sides shaking from the force of the wind. Empty. She ran back outside and looked up. The storm was approaching too furiously, the color and darkness ominous portents. It didn’t feel like a normal thunderstorm. Real fear wobbled her knees.
The wind gusted around her with renewed vigor, the drop in air pressure making her feel like she was running through a void. Tornadoes were the boogeymen of her youth. The stories and drills they practiced in school were embedded in her mind. It had been two decades since one had hit either side of Cottonbloom.
Where was Sawyer? Was he safe? Please God, let him be safe. Panic turned her movements clumsy. She stumbled and stubbed her big toe against a root on her run back to the house. She felt like Dorothy from The Wizard of Oz. The back door was unlocked. She called his name, even though she sensed the emptiness.
The creaking of the old house didn’t settle her nerves. She’d seen pictures of houses strewn like matchsticks in the wake of a tornado. She stopped and considered her options. Driving home wasn’t one of them. Being caught in any car in a tornado was bad. In her Bug, it could prove disastrous. No ground-floor door revealed steps that might lead to a basement.
She ran back outside and looked around, not sure exactly what she was even looking for. In the brief minutes she had been inside, the atmosphere outside had grown worse. Rain bursts pelted her, and she pushed her hair out of her eyes feeling like a deer caught in a hunter’s spotlight.
A ground-floor closet was her best option. Time to make a decision was slipping away. What if she’d waited too long? What if something terrible happened before she had the chance to tell him?
She ran back inside. Two steps into the kitchen, and a loud crack made her jump. Various parts of her body stung. Wind whipped her hair around her face, the noise growing louder. Seconds ticked off before her brain lined up the facts. The branch of a crepe myrtle, a few tenacious pink blossoms dangling from the end, was in Sawyer’s kitchen. The small window over the sink was broken and tiny cuts from flying glass stung her arms and legs.
She wiped her cheek, and her trembling fingers were red with blood. Terror froze her, barefoot and with glass over the floor.
From a great distance, she heard her name. Sawyer.
Then before she could move or call his name, the back door banged open and he was there.
“What the hell are you doing here? Don’t you know tornadoes have been spotted?”
A sense of calm came over her in the swirling chaos. Only one thing mattered in that moment. “I had to tell you … I love you. I love you, Sawyer Fournette.”
His eyes flashed. “We are cursed with crappy timing—have you noticed?” He tucked a piece of hair behind her ear, but the wind negated his efforts. He rubbed a thumb across her stinging cheek and looked around. “Let us try to stay in one piece, shall we?”
He lifted her into a cradle hold and carried her outside. A flying piece of debris hit her temple, and she ducked her head into his neck. He muttered a curse and bypassed the shed. She peeked over his shoulder, blinking against the rain. The metal of the shed seemed to waver with the force of the wind.
Sawyer tried to run, but between her weight and the wind, he moved like he was swimming through thick honey.
“Put me down. I can walk now.”
He set her down, grabbed her wrist, and pulled her toward a copse of pines at the edge of what used to be a cotton field. Adrenaline kicked her into a higher gear, but she wasn’t afraid anymore. Not with him.
Double doors sat a few feet higher and nearly parallel to the ground. A storm cellar. He grabbed both handles and pulled. Nothing happened. He kicked at the hinges and applied himself to opening one side. With a squeal of rusted hinges, the door lifted. The wind caught it like a sail and slammed it open. A musty, moldy smell poofed out, and she covered her nose and mouth.
The situation took on an unreal, dreamlike quality. While Sawyer descended a few steps into the black hole, she looked around. Debris floated in the air as if gravity was no longer in effect. In the distance, white birds flew in the storm, flitting and diving.
He took her hand and pulled her backward.
She pointed. “What are those birds doing?”
The birds seemed to move closer, the noise increasing with each second that passed. He went from still to frantic. “That’s siding off houses, not birds. Get your sweet ass down here. Now.”
He pushed her past him into the blackness. The steps were rough. Splinters cut at her feet, the pain a reminder of their current reality. A cobweb wrapped around her calves. She was too scared to scream. She kept her gaze up. Debris was spinning over them now as Sawyer wrestled with the door, finally winning.
The darkness was complete. Her knees were watery, her body shaky, and imagining what lay beyond wasn’t helping her state of mind. Her foot touched solid ground. The distance seemed immense as she descended, but it was only ten feet or so in reality. Sawyer clamored down with less hesitancy. A rain of dust had her blinking and finally closing her eyes.
Her toes scrunched in dirt. The air was cooler, and her rain-dampened clothes chilled her. The door bucked, but she kept her eyes closed. She wished she hadn’t watched that movie Twister a dozen times when she was a kid.
Sawyer’s arms came around her, and she burrowed her face into his neck, grabbing him tight around his waist. “I’m scared,” she murmured.
“Me too.” White noise from the storm filled the silence. His hands roamed her body and as if they had actual healing power, her various stings receded. “How badly are you hurt?”
“Some cuts. Nothing serious.” His hands skimmed over her backside and stayed to knead it. Her twinge of laughter bordered on hysteria. “My ass is fine.”
“No arguments here.” How they could find humor in their predicament was beyond her comprehension.
“Your face is cut,” he said softly.
“Is it bad? Will you still love me if I’m hideous and scarred?”
“I will. I’ll even love you when you turn gray and lose all your marbles.”
She rubbed her cheek against his but pulled back when his words sank in. “Wait. You mean ‘if’ not ‘when,’ right?”
His laughter tumbled through her but faded quickly. “Did you mean it?”
“Mean what?”
“Do you love me?”
With the fear of the storm and their lives hanging in the balance, the truth came with ease. “Of course I love you. I loved you even when I hated you.” In the darkness, her lips found his for a brief touch. “I talked to Mother. She got to you, didn’t she?”
He rested his forehead against hers and twined their fingers together. “She did. I knew what she was capable of and yet she still injected doubts. That night in the truck … I was hurt and stupid and thought you were just after a hook-up for old times’ sake.”
“This summer hasn’t been about closure or reliving the past for me. It’s been about the future.”
He sighed. “That’s what I thought too, but then your mother said—”
“How about we cut that phrase out of our lives? It doesn’t matter what my mother said. Not anymore. I know that what happened between us so many years ago was fundamentally my fault, but you scared me.”
“I scared you?”
“You were so handsome and mature and confident. We were young, and I didn’t trust my feelings, I suppose. Mother only amplified what was already bothering me. When I found you with that girl, my worst fears were realized.”
“I wasn’t as mature as you thought I was, obviously, or I wouldn’t have gotten so blitzed that I blacked out. I should have tried harder to get through to you, but…”
“But what?”
“I never felt good enough for you, but the way you treated me after
ward drove that point home like a stake through my heart.”
She leaned away and slid her hands over him until she cupped his cheeks. She couldn’t see him, but maybe he could see her just a little with his Fournette sight. “I was the flighty, pageant girl who never felt good enough for you. Everything you went through and dealt with made me love you even more. I was never ashamed of being your girl, Sawyer Fournette.”
* * *
He grabbed her wrist and laid a kiss on her palm. The world might be going to hell above them. He didn’t care though with her in his arms, her words filling the voids in his heart. “Maybe being good enough doesn’t matter when you’re perfect together.”
“I love you and want to be with you, and if you want me to organize a parade to announce it to all of Cottonbloom, I will.”
He thought about taking her up on the offer for the amusement factor alone. “I don’t think that will be necessary, but I’d be honored to take you to the Cottonbloom Country Club for dinner tonight.”
“That would be—” She gasped. “If it’s still standing.”
Anxiety pierced the cocoon of their existence. Uncertainty existed outside of the darkened storm cellar, and Sawyer was loathe to face it. “I don’t hear anything, do you?”
The wind had stopped battering at the doors, and the trainlike noise had faded into a pattering rain.
He tried to pull out of her arms, but she wrapped her hands around his nape and jerked him in for a kiss. It was quick and confined to a press of their lips together. But he understood. It sealed their commitment to each other no matter what they faced.
His steps on the ladder reverberated. It took a long heart-stopping minute of imagining them dying in each other’s arms in the dank pit before he managed to wrench the door open.
Dark clouds raced across the sky, but the unnatural purpling was gone. From the adrenaline-fueled race up the river to outrun the storm to the shock at Regan’s appearance to the bone-deep relief at finally settling things after a decade apart, his emotions were all over the place. And now this.
“Dear Lord,” she whispered beside him.
A soft rain fell on the destruction. Shingles and siding and broken planks lay around them. The roof of the metal shed had been peeled back like a tin can and tilted like a cartoon house. The farmhouse had taken the brunt of the damage. It looked like a giant had smashed a fist into one side. His kitchen was exposed and covered in debris.
Till I Kissed You Page 25