Entice

by S. E. Hall

  Things have been lackluster, to say the least, between Sawyer and I lately, and there’s a distance between us that I feel growing wider every day. I’m not a moron, I see the signs, but one person’s slow down is another person’s go faster before it turns red. A racecar driver at heart, I continue to try. I’d put up a fight and he continued to fight for me, I’m more than woman enough to do the same. There’s still a “we” inside him, I catch glimpses of it every so often; a brush of his hand on mine, a wink here and there…deep down, we’re more than just the roommates we’ve become. Maybe this holiday meal, just he and I, will bring us back to good. Bellies full, snuggled up on the couch with a movie, maybe finally a good heart-to-heart conversation…

  “You’re up early.” His groggy morning greeting startles me.

  “I am. Good morning.” I go up on my toes for his kiss, but all I get is a chaste brush of his lips then he steps around me to open the fridge. “I had to get the turkey in early if we want to eat by lunch time. I’m about to start peeling potatoes. You wanna help?”

  “Oh, um,” he falters, eyes flicking around the room, “I didn’t know you had a big deal planned. I was gonna go in to work.”

  “On Thanksgiving?”

  “Yeah, Em, on Thanksgiving. I need all the money I can get. I have responsibilities.”

  “I have responsibilities too, Sawyer. I’m up to my eyeballs in responsibility,” I measure that with a sideways hand at my eye line, “but taking today for family seemed pretty important too. Can’t we just have today?”

  “Sure,” he concedes with a small smile that reeks of effort. “What time you want me to be back?”

  “Whenever.” I toss the dishtowel on the counter, my mood turned.

  “No, not whenever.” He reaches out and grabs my hand, pulling me to him. “What time, Em?”

  I bury my face in his shirt, hiding my teary eyes and disappointment. “I don’t want it to be a burden, Sawyer. I want you to want to be here.”

  “I want a lot of things, Emmett.” His face goes to my hair and for a fleeting, hopeful second I think he’s going to give me one of his infamous head kisses that I’ve gone far too long without, but he merely speaks. “I’ll see ya at two. Good?”

  All I can do is nod, afraid to try and speak any more. If I dare, I’ll either cry, burdening him more, or scream out my frustrations, driving him further away. So I nod, lift my head, and release him.

  “Okay, I’ll be here at two.”

  Here, not home. No kiss goodbye.

  When he’s gone, I slide down to the floor, right where I stand, and wrap my arms around my knees. We aren’t “playing house” any more and reality’s proving to be too much. I’ve lost Sawyer to his own mind—I’ve become his responsibility. Who could blame him for checking out? The road to heartache, it would seem, is also paved with good intentions.

  “Happy Thanksgiving.” I rub my stomach and let go of the hold I had on my tears, watching with a strange detachment as they splash onto my shirt.

  I suck in a harsh gasp, quickly wiping my face and scrambling to my feet. Hoping my mask is in place, I turn, elated that he’s come back in.

  But no, he hasn’t…I hear his voice, but he isn’t speaking to me, it’s floating through the open window. And damn you all to hell, Georgia, for hosting Thanksgivings warm enough for open windows, ‘cause what I hear Sawyer say next reaches into my chest and takes the last hopeful piece of us I had left and snuffs it into the ground.

  “Hi. I didn’t think you’d answer on Thanksgiving. Can I come over now and talk?”

  Chapter 26

  My Family Stone

  —Emmett—

  “This feels amazing. You’re all geniuses.”

  “All?!” Whitley cries. “Do not even think of giving Laney credit for pedicures! She wouldn’t even know that word if it weren’t for Bennett and I. Right, Ben?”

  “Right.” Poor Bennett is breaking a sweat taking the pumice stone to Laney’s crusty, ball playing heels. “God, Laney, I hope you wear socks to bed! If not, Dane’s not gonna have any skin left on his poor legs!”

  “I can hear you bitches when you talk out loud,” Laney retorts, her head back on the couch and cucumber slices over her eyes.

  I giggle even though I’m only half-listening to their banter. Whitley is a rubbing, scrubbing goddess, performing crazy miracles on my swollen feet right now. I’m so relaxed I might fall asleep.

  This is precisely what I needed, an evening with awesome ladies and my aching cankles being tended to. Nowhere in the book Sawyer’s reading did it say that the minute you hit 27 weeks your water retention triples overnight and you turn into an Oompa Loompa. If it did, he didn’t read me that part.

  Then again, Sawyer hasn’t been reading me any parts lately. Nor have we watched movies together, and the two times I treated myself to some Coldstone relief, I was alone. He missed the first breastfeeding class, which I understood, since he doesn’t need to know how to do that, but missing the last doctor appointment? That spoke volumes. Even louder is the fact that he hasn’t so much hinted at, let alone made love to me in weeks. Maybe the person he can “talk to” filled that gap as well…

  Lately, I’ve been regarded with little more than causal friendliness, with pecks goodbye and radio rather than conversation on the trips to and from work—the ones we actually make together, that is. He still finds his way to my bed every night, but he sneaks in late when he thinks I’m asleep and I do nothing to let him know otherwise. In the morning, he’s always awake before I stir. He’s there, but nowhere to be found.

  I don’t think I’m grotesque, my total weight gain thus far is nine pounds, which Dr. Greer assures me is healthy and acceptable. I can still wear almost all my old clothes, even my jeans, if I push the top of them below my baby bump. I haven’t spied any stretch marks yet, but I still lather in Vitamin E Cocoa Butter every morning and night.

  So I’m not sure what the problem is, or when it officially started, but my Sawyer is gone and left “Dutiful Sawyer” in his place. If he’d just talk to me, confirm what I already know deep down, he’d find that I’d peacefully be more than okay with simply having my friend back.

  “Emmett, you okay?” Whitley smiles, drying my feet and placing one on her knee. “Lost ya there for a minute.”

  “Oh yeah, fine. It’s so relaxing, I must’ve started to doze off. Are you done?”

  “No silly! Now I have to clip and paint your toenails. You pick color?” she says in her best pedicure technician voice.

  “Surprise me. Before long I won’t be able to see them anyway.” I laugh.

  Bennett’s sigh can probably be heard by the whole block when she’s finally to the nail painting phase of Laney’s feet. “So what’s everybody doing for Christmas? I can’t believe there’s only two weeks left!”

  Whitley answers first. “Evan and I are going to Parker and Hayden’s, and of course, to see his parents.”

  “How is Hayden?” Laney’s interest now piqued, she peels the vegetable patches off her eyes and sits up. “She should be popping out those triplets anytime now, right?”

  Whitley frowns, her lip quivering some. “She’s due January 4th, but with triplets, they could come any day. Her doctor’s adamant to keep them in there as long as possible, so she’s been on bed rest for over a month.”

  “I should have known that,” Laney says softly, a flash of shame moving over her face. “I’ll be over to see them too. Dane and I are going to Daddy’s. And a trip to Mom too, of course. And let’s not forget, a very important visit to Bag N Suds! I have to make sure Kaitlyn’s kicked out of college ass is enjoying her new job,” she cackles, holding her stomach and throwing her head back.

  “No way! I hadn’t heard that!” Whitley’s face lights up and Laney bobs her head yes very enthusiastically. “What do you know? Karma got something right.”

  I don’t know who Kaitlyn is, and as much as I should be a good friend and ask, I don’t really feel like it. I’m such a
sadsack lately…stupid hormones.

  “What about you, Emmett?” Bennett asks me. “What are your and Sawyer’s plans?”

  I must look as pathetic as I feel with the three of them scooting closer in on me. “I, uh, haven’t heard that we have any specific plans, per se. I’m sure we’ll talk about it soon. In fact,” I go for exuberance and a subject change, “I need to get a tree up and shop for some presents for you ladies!”

  This seems to placate them and all three start rattling off ideas for a Crew Christmas before everyone leaves and maybe drawing names out of a hat for buying.

  “Hey, ladies, foot party I see.”

  Over their excited planning and fight for loudest voice in the mix, Sawyer’s arrival has gone unnoticed. Who knows how long he’s been standing in front of us.

  “You want yours done next?” Bennett teases him, gesturing to the foot spa on the floor.

  “I’m gonna pass, B,” he barely chuckles. “Em, you here waiting for me?” He levels his quirked brow gaze on me, expecting an answer.

  “N-no,” stumbles out of my mouth. “The girls invited me down for pedis.” He probably thinks I’ve camped out here, waiting for him to get back, but if he really stopped to think about it…how the hell would I know when he’d be back, or that he’d decide today he comes here instead of mine for that matter? Hard to stalk a ghost, Sawyer.

  “Hmm.” He nods. “I’m beat, I’m gonna lay down.” And then he’s gone, walking back towards his room.

  “What was that?” Laney hisses when his door shuts.

  I pop my shoulders nonchalantly, because I don’t even know. “I’m gonna go ahead and go. I have a lot to do tomorrow and I need some rest.” Getting up and out of the couch shouldn’t be as challenging as it is with only nine extra pounds, but pregnancy does inexplicable things to your center of gravity.

  Seeing my struggle, Laney jumps up and offers me a hand. “Emmett, is everything all right with you and Sawyer? He’s our friend, but you are too. So if you want to talk—”

  “Everything’s fine, just different schedules and paths lately. I’m sure he’ll be down later.” I slip my freshly painted toes into the flip flops I brought in December. “You guys let me know when we’re drawing names, okay?”

  “Okay,” Laney mumbles, wearing a concerned frown, and the other two silently nod.

  As I shuffle down the sidewalk back to the home he’d secured me, and maneuver around the car in the driveway that he’d secured me…I feel secure in knowing one thing: I’m stronger than I think…I mean, I manage to get all the way inside my living room before I let even one tear fall.

  Chapter 27

  About A Girl

  —Sawyer—

  “What’d I tell you about worrying and upsetting Laney?”

  “Nice to see you too, brother,” I bite back to Dane, standing across the bar from me. “We were low on vermouth and two taps. I put the order in; it’ll be here tomorrow.”

  “Great, thanks. Now back to my original question. Laney’s all in a snit about you and Emmett. You wanna tell me what’s going on?”

  “Nope, none of anybody’s business. I can’t run my life based on what Laney’s gonna think. That’s your gig.” I turn behind me, starting to load the cooler, so he’s forced to talk to my back.

  “You’re damn right it’s my gig. It’s the only one I have that really matters and one I plan to stick to. One I made dead sure I was serious about before I ever asked her to be serious about it too.”

  I slam down the door on the cooler and spin back around, stalking to the edge of the bar. “You got something to say, say it.”

  “Pretty sure I just fucking did.”

  Briefly, I try to remember the last time Dane and I faced off. I can’t.

  “All right, then, what is it you didn’t say? My job? I work my ass off. School? Pretty much work my dick in the dirt there too. So you must mean Emmett, which we covered, under the ‘none of anyone’s fucking business’ part. Now, if you’re done spewing at the suck, I have to run this club, boss.”

  I don’t give him a chance to respond, rather, I slam my hand under the bar flip and head around the corner to the storage room. When I load up all I can carry and reemerge, he’s gone, the key to the Accord on the bar.

  Why’s he giving me the key to Em’s car? To make a point that he has it. Bastard.

  Hold the fucking phone…why does he have it?

  Sawyer: Why does Dane have the key to your car?

  Goddamn women. You need a blink of fucking time to yourself to sort shit out and get your head straight, and they start wildfires—drastic fucking moves over exaggerated drama. And that shit grows, involving everyone in its wake.

  Emmett: It was his car, his key. I don’t need it anymore, but thank you so much for the help when I did.

  Sawyer: Why don’t you need it? How are you getting to work tonight?

  I’m about to stop this texting bullshit and call her, but stop myself. It’s better this way. I don’t want to yell in her ear.

  Emmett: I have a ride to pick up my new car! Found a great deal on an older Jeep Cherokee on craigslist. This sweet old couple’s gonna release it to me and let me pay cash over the next four months! And because of year/model, found insurance that’s only due every three months. Pretty excited things are starting to come together.

  It doesn’t escape me that this is the longest conversation Emmett and I have had in quite some time…over text. Nor do I miss the fact that somehow she managed all this without my help or without me knowing. Right under my nose and I had no fucking clue.

  Emmett: I can’t thank you enough, Sawyer. It all started because of you, my first miracle. I could make your favorite chicken enchiladas one night as a thank you?

  Did my girlfriend, whom I basically live with and is about to have my child, just invite me to dinner? Oh God, I’ve completely fucked up. I’ve been so worried about how to make a life for her, us, our baby…fuck! I’d made her think I didn’t want her, us, our baby. Now she’s making the life she thinks I left her to, alone… She doesn’t need me.

  Well fuck me if I don’t need her, a sharp pain in my chest confirming it.

  It rings three times before she answers. “Em,” I swallow down my pride. “Emmy?”

  “Yeah?”

  “I’m sorry, babe, I didn’t realize. I need to tell you…” I grapple for the words, gripping the phone mercilessly. “I’ve just been so worried, and—”

  “Sawyer?” she interrupts me distractedly. “I hate to do this, but can we talk when I get there or something? My ride’s here.”

  “Oh…yeah, okay, sure.”

  “Okay, so I’ll see you in a little while?”

  “I’ll be here.” My exhale echoes in the phone. “Who’s your ride?”

  “Kasey, why? Listen, he’s honking, I gotta go. See you in a sec?”

  “Yup.”

  She hangs up and it takes all I have not to smash every motherfucking thing in this bar right now. Kasey? As in Kasey Munson, the guy who works here? The guy that spouts prophetic about her very discreet tattoo? That Kasey?

  Fucking fuming, I do something I’ve never done before—I pour myself two shots of Patron and down them both—at work. Then I flip on the music and get the house ready for tonight. Oughta be a hella one.

  —Emmett—

  I’m shocked. Sawyer called, and to tell me something. I swear I heard the faintest hint of caring in his voice. Some small, pathetic part of me almost wants to believe he was jealous of Kasey helping me out. That wasn’t my intention, Kasey’s simply a great guy that was able to help me since Laney had practice. And while I pray I didn’t cause trouble for Kasey, the girl in me, the same one in love with Sawyer, can’t help but bask for just a second in the afterglow of Sawyer perhaps caring enough to still get jealous.

  Kasey drops me off and I briefly visit with Mr. and Mrs. Rosen, the sweetest couple I’ve ever seen in my life. They’ll never know how much they’re helping me, letting me tak
e the vehicle now and pay it off over the next four months. I give them both a hug and jump in my new Cherokee, positively giddy.

  It’s old and has a ton of miles, but it’s mine. It doesn’t smell new and the floor mats are stained, but it’s mine. I sing along with the radio on my drive, a bliss I haven’t felt in too long about me. But all good things must end and all I feel as I park in front of The K is anxious and unsteady. I have no idea what to expect when I walk in. It could be anger, or worse, it could be more cold indifference.

  Alex must feel my nerves, giving me a swift kick right as I pull open the door. I smile and rub my belly. “Don’t you start with me too.”

  So far so good. Everything seems normal. Kasey’s unstacking chairs, smiling and giving me a wave. “How does it drive?” he asks when he sees me.

  I give him a thumbs up, not ready to announce my presence vocally. Austin’s up in the booth getting his stuff ready and Darby and Jessica are standing at the bar counting cash for their aprons.

  My shoulders relax with my sigh of relief as I head to the break room to put up my things, but tense back up just as quickly when I see Sawyer standing by my locker. He’s leaned in on one hip, arms folded across his chest, and he does not look happy.

  “Shut the door and lock it,” he directs in an eerily calm voice. His eyes give him away, narrowed and a dark, stormy blue. He is anything but calm.

  He doesn’t scare me though, not really, and it’s probably high time we talk, so I do as he says, shutting and locking the door. Turning slowly from it back to him, I plaster on the most convincing smile I can conjure up. “Hey, what’s up? I’m not late, am I?”

  “You know you’re not late.”

  “Oh, okay. Then what’s up?”

  “What’s up?” he sneers, moving toward me now in measured, methodical steps. “What’s up, Emmett, is why you’re giving back and buying cars without so much as a word to me, and especially up is why the fuck you’re chummy enough to ride with Kasey!”