Sawyer Says

by Carey Heywood

  I don’t need anyone to remind me how lucky I am to spend the rest of my life with her.

  “Ready?”

  I turn to Will and grin. “Born ready.”

  He shakes his head, but I know he understands. We’ve become good friends since that summer he followed Sarah out to Denver. It sucks that we weren’t able to talk them into moving closer. In fact, they both looked at us as though we were crazy but promised an extended visit every summer.

  They live in Georgia and love it. At least we’re closer than we had been before, and Sawyer’s thrilled about being in the same time zone as her best friend. In addition, we’re now closer to the farm where she grew up. Beau seems like a great guy. I can tell Sawyer is thrilled to have him back in her life. As long as she’s happy, I’m good.

  Will and I walk out of the side door as Sawyer and Sarah come from the back door. This one part of the ceremony was important to Sawyer. She didn’t want me just waiting there for her at the end of an aisle. I could argue that I’m used to waiting for her, but the symbolism of what she was going for is sweet, so I have kept my mouth shut.

  She wanted us to meet each other halfway. I walk on the left side of the seated guests while she walks along the right. I’m not surprised she isn’t wearing a traditional wedding dress, but she still looks like the most beautiful women in the world.

  Her dress has a retro feel to it, with a high waist and a poufy skirt. The color is a pale mint that works with her loose pink curls. She is, as always, the most beautiful woman I have ever seen. Every couple of steps, I catch her eyes. She covers her mouth and laughs when I’m so busy looking at her, I bump into one of the end chairs.

  “Sorry, dude.” I pat someone’s shoulder and I keep moving toward her.

  By the time we reach each other, I can’t wait to touch her. I cup her cheeks and dip my mouth to hers. Our friends and family laugh but aren’t surprised. When I open my eyes and find hers have gone all soft, I just want to kiss her again.

  “Hey, babe,” I whisper.

  She squeezes her grip on my arms and replies, “Hey, lover.”

  I groan. Fuck; that sounds sexy. Sarah clears her throat loudly, and we both glance at her. She presses her lips together, and keeping her face toward us, glances in the direction of all of our guests.

  Right. I reach out for Sawyer’s hand and squeeze it when she slips it into mine. Together, we turn to face our family and friends.

  “Thank you all for coming to join us today.”

  “It means so much to us that you are all here,” Sawyer continues.

  I turn to look at her and reach for her other hand.

  “I love you more than I ever knew was possible, Jared Keller. With you, I have found the freedom to find myself. With your love, I am many things. I am strong, I am brave, and I am loved.” She pauses, moving our joined hands to rest on her perfectly rounded belly. “With your love, I am also going to be a mother. I can’t wait to spend the rest of my life on this adventure with you.”

  I lift one hand to smooth away the wetness gathering at the corner of her eye.

  “Sawyer Sterling, I love you so much. I only have myself to give you, but I’m yours. Everything that makes me who I am I give to you. I’ll spend the rest of my life doing anything I can to make you smile. You and I, Sawyer. Forever.” I drop my lips to hers again before kneeling to place one more kiss on her stomach.

  The End

  Sawyer says…

  Casual flings are the only way to go.

  Everyone you trust eventually leaves.

  Falling in love is for anyone, but her.

  What else would she say when all she knows is loss and abandonment? Sawyer Sterling learned too young that depending on anyone else will get her nothing but heartache in the end. Never shying away from outwardly showing her love, she struggles accepting it herself. Stubbornly, she vows never to risk her heart.

  Dealing with revelations she never saw coming, her impulse is to distance herself from emotional entanglements. When her past collides with her present, can Jared Keller help prove to her just how wrong her assumptions are? He is the exception to her argument that everyone leaves. Will she ever see him as something she deserves?

  The creation process of writing a book is not unlike what I experienced physically while pregnant with my two kids. I gained weight, I struggled to sleep, I was at times a grouchy bear to be around, and I cried frequently. I’d like to acknowledge and thank my family for still loving me after 7 books.

  To my closest author friends, Melissa Collins (my wife), Jennifer Berg (my mistress), Renee Carlino (my lover), and Lisa Paul (my hooker), you keep me sane and support me is ways that I’ll never be able to fully repay. My betas, Amy, Nasha, Judy, Evette, Nicola, Jennifer, Renee, Jessica, Rachel, and Michelle; thank you so much for helping me make Sawyer Says the story I dreamed of telling.

  To Yesenia Vargas and the team at Hot Tree Editing, thank you for making sure I dotted all my i’s, crossed all my t’s and translating my gibberish. To Sarah Hansen with Okay Creations, thank you for another beautiful cover. To Tami with Integrity Formatting, thank you for making the insides of my books so pretty. To Kris and the team at Red Coat Pr, thank you for helping readers find me.

  For every amazingly supportive and wonderful blog that has helped me along the way. Whenever you shared a pic, or a link, commented on a post, made a teaser, and told your readers about my books you made my success possible. Thank you from the bottom of my heart for everything that you do.

  New York Times and USA Today bestselling author with six books out and many more to come. She was born and raised in Alexandria, Virginia. Ever the mild-mannered citizen, Carey spends her days working in the world of finance, and at night, she retreats into the lives of her fictional characters. Supporting her all the way are her husband, three sometimes-adorable children, and their nine-pound attack Yorkie.

  I’d love to hear from you!

  info@careyheywood.com

  www.careyheywood.com

  Other Books Available everywhere

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  Coming July 2014

  By Carey Heywood

  Book 1 in Carolina Days Series

  The Other Side of Someday

  Falling in love? Courtney Grayson has been there, done that.

  Men, who needs them? Love wasn’t everything she thought it would be. This time around she’s doing things differently. She hasn’t sworn off men for good, just isn’t interested in settling. Trusting someone with her heart again? Someday, but not today.

  Falling in love? Sorry, Clay Bradshaw is not the guy for you.

  He’s never been in love and he doesn’t see it happening. Hooking up can be fun, but more often than not, women are a distraction he doesn’t need. He’s a busy man, and doesn’t have time to date, let alone fall in love. Will someone ever change that? There’s always a chance, someday.

  Life doesn’t always go as planned, and love may find them both on the other side of someday.

  Look for these other great reads:

  Excerpt from Let Love Be by Melissa Collins

  It’s been four days.

  It’s been ninety-six hours since I last kissed his lips, since I last felt his loving arms wrap around me from behind, since his strong and stubbled jaw nuzzled into my neck.

  Numbly – as that’s the only way I can do anything since he was killed – I force myself out of bed.

  Staring blankly into my opened closet, I become overwhelmed with anger. How the hell am I supposed to pick out something to wear for my husband’s funeral when all I can think about is curling up in that box with him?

  There’s nothing to live for now.

  Just as quickly as that thought enters my mind, the sharp kick to my ribs from my unborn daughter reminds me otherwise.

  I might not want to carry on, but I have to.
/>   She’ll need me.

  I don’t even know what I end up putting on, but I’m dressed and walking down the stairs ten minutes later where Linda, my best friend, and Ray, my husband’s best friend, are waiting for me.

  They look at me with pity in their eyes and I feel the pain weighing like an anvil in my heart. With more sadness than any of us can put to words, we get in the waiting black limo and drive off to the church to say goodbye to the man I’ve spent my entire life loving.

  The only thing that makes me realize that this is not some kind of horrid nightmare is the kicking baby. Holding my hands over my round belly keeps me focused on something other than the priest’s words. Counting the rhythm of her hiccups pulls my attention away from counting the minutes since Jimmy was taken from me – from us.

  The wind whips outside the church, causing high-pitched whirrs to sound in the knave. The only things holding me up are the hard bench beneath me and Linda’s warm comfort at my side.

  After a final prayer, I watch the pallbearers carry Jimmy’s casket down the aisle in the church.

  It’s the same aisle that I walked down when we got married. That day, it felt like I couldn’t walk toward him fast enough. Now, watching him be carried away from me, I feel time stand still. I want to scream and curse God for taking Jimmy away from me. But, instead, I find that it takes all of my energy to just get out of my seat and follow behind the coffin.

  Frozen and incapable of talking through the lump in my throat, the ten-minute drive by our house and to the cemetery passes in complete silence.

  My short heels bite into the soft, wet ground. Ray loops his arm through mine and I have to wonder if his intent is to hold me up, or to keep himself steady. I look up into his bloodshot eyes and we exchange a sad smile and nod. “I gotcha, Luce,” he whispers and tightens his grip on my arm as he escorts me to the line of chairs arranged before Jimmy’s coffin.

  Words are spoken, prayers offered up to God, goodbyes are said, but I don’t register any of it.

  “May he rest in peace.” The priest softly closes his bible and I feel fingers close around mine.

  The cold and bitter fall air chills me to the bone. Thick, grey clouds threaten overhead. Rumbles of thunder and flickers of lightning are off in the distance somewhere. A thin mist of cold rain hangs all around us.

  Somehow, the clouds manage to reign in the water, just as I’m somehow managing to hold back my tears. It’s numbness really. You can’t cry when you feel nothing. Pain has evaporated and morphed into anesthetized calmness.

  Sitting at my side, Linda squeezes my hand again. “It’s almost time to go.” Her words and the warmth of her hand shake me from my blank stare. What little glimmers of light the sun was just shining have been swallowed up by the blackest cloud in the sky. Angrily, I laugh at how appropriate the scene is.

  My light is gone.

  Dead.

  Buried.

  Through the shuffle of people who have come to say goodbye to my husband, my Jimmy, I vaguely feel Ray grip my shoulder. “It’s time, Luce.”

  A fierceness I thought was buried in the ground alongside my love bubbles up in my chest. “No, no, no,” I repeatedly whisper, a tiny, fragile sound.

  Throwing Ray’s hand off my shoulder, I stand as quickly as my almost-nine-month pregnant belly will allow me.

  “Easy, Lucy. Come on, let us help you.” Linda tries to calm me, pulling me to her side. With all the strength I can muster, I push her away. In the distance behind her, I notice that the crowd that had just left the ceremony has now focused their attention back on the scene that I’ve just created.

  A swift kick to the ribs from my baby girl brings me back to the here and now. I take a few shaky breaths and exhale them raggedly through the sobs closing my throat. Ray and Linda sandwich me between them, afraid that I’ll collapse under my pain like I did the other day.

  Wrapping my arms around their waists, I squeeze them tightly and try to garner some strength from their support. “I just can’t bring myself to say goodbye to him.” My chest heaves through the thought of turning my back on him one last time.

  Linda grasps my shoulders and pulls me into an intense hug. When she releases me and steps back, holding me at arm’s length, I see the pain in her eyes. She smoothes my hair, tucking it behind my ear. “I know you don’t want to say goodbye. But it’s about to pour and we don’t want you getting sick.”

  On her last word, heavy blobs of rain start falling from the sky. Ray pulls off his jacket and holds it up over my head like an umbrella. “Let’s go, Lucy,” Ray grits out through the tears he’s somehow fought off since Jimmy was crushed.

  Looking up into his sad, brown eyes, I break a little more. I force a lame smile, really just to appease them, and ease some of their concerns. “Just give me one more minute with him. Go on to the car. I’ll be right there.” Ray and Linda exchange a look over my head before stepping away from me.

  Inching myself over to the coffin, I reach out a shaky hand. The cold wood finish is glossy with rain and I mindlessly follow the streaks of water as they travel to the seam that keeps the coffin closed.

  Thoughts of Jimmy, cold and alone, buried in the ground for all eternity ravage my soul. I’ll never be able to hold him again. I’ll never curl up next to him in bed.

  He’ll never hold our daughter.

  “I don’t know how to go on without you, Jimmy. Please tell me…how.” Sobs swallow my words and the rain falls down in sheets through the sky.

  The baby kicks once more.

  With one hand on Jimmy’s coffin and one on my belly – one on my past and one on my future – I say one final goodbye to the only man I have ever loved.

  “I’ll always carry you in my heart, baby. I love you, Jimmy.”

  Excerpt from Ready for You by J.L. Berg

  I gasped, desperately seeking air, as I tried clawing my way back to reality. Oxygen filled my airways too quickly and burned a fiery path to my overworked lungs. I felt myself gripping, holding on…trying not to let go.

  Don’t let her go. Not again. Come back, Mia. Come back!

  My eyes flew open, and I found myself back in my cramped, lifeless bedroom, back in the present.

  Back to hell.

  I couldn’t count the number of times I’d relived that day. I would relive what had started out as a perfect day in my past, and I’d wake back up to the hell that had become my life. It was like some sick, twisted curse I’d been given to remind me just how fucked-up fate could be.

  The sheets felt cold against my sweat-slicked body, and my heart rate was still racing a marathon. A marathon I never won. Night after night, I’d awake from the same nightmare, my heart racing as I tried, over and over, to change history through my dreams.

  Good luck, buddy.

  I’d given up on that hope years ago. Sitting up, I ran my hands over my face and tried to calm my nerves. Out of the corner of my eye, I caught the glint of a mostly empty bottle of tequila sitting on my nightstand. Looking through my hands, which were still covering my face, I saw the bra first, then the dress, and finally the heels. They were all scattered among my own clothes on the floor.

  My head began to pound like a drum as I slowly pieced together the night before, remembering the copious amounts of alcohol I’d consumed. I’d wandered into a bar after another long day at work, and there was a woman.

  Sarah or Sierra? It didn’t matter.

  I’d told her she was beautiful and offered to buy her a drink. She’d laughed at my lame jokes, throwing her head back with enthusiasm, while resting her hand on my thigh. Her laugh had been all wrong—high-pitched and too bubbly. But nothing ever was right. I’d bought her another drink, and finally, I’d followed it up by asking if she would like to have a third one—back at my place.

  Shit.

  Running my hands through my disheveled dark hair, I slowly turned to my right, and there she was—the owner of the dress.

  Siena or Samantha?

  Sadie? />
  I had no clue.

  I was not a player. I wasn’t one of those guys who would bring a different woman home every night and brag about it to his coworkers the next day. I didn’t have notches on my bedpost, and I actually really hated the one-night stand routine. But I wasn’t a saint, and sometimes, the solitude and quiet of being alone would get to be too much, overwhelming me to the point where I would become so weighed down by it that I thought I might drown. That was when I would end up here—with a nameless woman and a fucking mess to clean up.

  She really was beautiful though.

  I’m a giant asshole.

  “Hey—” I started but stopped short, remembering I had no idea what to call her.

  She stirred a bit, stretching like a cat, which made the sheet draped over her fall away to expose her naked body. I turned away.

  “Oh.” She giggled a bit. “Good morning, Adam,” she nearly purred.

  Adam, huh? I never gave my real name, but I hadn’t ever used that one before.

  She reached out, searching with her fingers, but I jumped off the bed before she could touch me. I was sober. There would be no touching now. I threw on my clothes and began running around to pick up hers. Once that was done, I risked turning around.

  Sitting up now but using the sheet to cover herself, she had that look. It was the same look they would all give me when I did this one-eighty routine. Her eyes darted around the room, and the confidence from her good-morning purr was now replaced with insecurity and awkwardness.

  “Am I missing something? I thought we had a good time last night,” she said quietly.

  I huffed out a breath. “We did,” I said even though I didn’t remember any of it. “But you need to go. I’m sorry.”