Entice

by S. E. Hall

  His voice isn’t anywhere close to calm, and I’m sure every employee out there can hear us without even listening hard. Especially Darby. Yes, I know he’s been with her. She very colorfully enlightened me the night she took me home. The bitter venom in her voice told its own story, though…it was only one time and Sawyer never entertained the option again.

  “Can I put my stuff up, please?” I step around him to my locker, taking ample time before I have to eventually turn around again.

  “Emmett,” he’s right up against my back, growling low in my ear, “you know I would have taken you. Do I not help you with anything you need? And you damn sure know I wouldn’t like you asking another guy.”

  If he was looking to get my dander up, he succeeded. I slam the locker shut and flip around to get as right up in his face as I can reach. “How would I know that, Sawyer, huh? You don’t get to act like I’m invisible then pop up all growly when something doesn’t sit well with your male ego! I’m not mad at you for wanting out, hell, I RAN FIRST! Granted, it was only a few days, not weeks, but I did and I own it. So you can run too, but oh wait, you already did!” I hiss in his face, all of my frustration and anger coming to a head. “I freely admit that I had it coming and payback’s a bitch, but even before I pulled back, I told you. I told you, Sawyer. I told you from day one that you wouldn’t want me. I said it over and over. You finally figured it out and I’m glad! The sooner the better, right? Less damage. But what I don’t get, what does make me mad, is why you care what anyone, guy or not, does for me?”

  I can feel the heat blazing up my neck and cheeks, the pounding in my temples. That rant took all the breath from me, my chest rising and falling rapidly with my pants. But none of that matters, the tearing at my freaking heart is the worst of it. I just gave him his ticket out, told him it was okay for him to go and I wouldn’t be mad.

  I’m surprised he’s still standing here, glowering down at me.

  “I didn’t run! I’m there every single day. I sleep in our bed, get groceries, gas up your car, go to appointments with you! How the hell is that running?” He’s screaming, eyes wide and pupils dilated, liquor on his breath.

  I reach back in my locker and grab the papers from my purse. “This came to my place for some reason. I called. They’ve been trying to reach you. You need to go take your physical to complete your application.” I slap the pamphlet against his chest and fight diligently against the tears dying to fall. “I can’t remember the last time you kissed me. We haven’t made love in weeks. And you don’t come to my appointments—you missed the last one. I kept waiting for you to start screaming down the hall, but you didn’t. All that’s okay, Sawyer, I get it. You made a valiant effort and helped me more than anyone else ever has, or probably ever will. So run. I’m not going to chase you, but please consider stopping short of enlisting. You have a great job, school, and friends who love you. You don’t have to run that far.”

  But I do. I move as fast as my trembling legs will carry me and have the door unlocked and open with dexterity that came from I don’t know where. Only a few tears manage to escape before I’m safely tucked in the back stall of the ladies’ room, my feet pulled up on the seat.

  If I get through this shift tonight, it’ll be a miracle. And right after that, it’ll be another change in my life.

  Chapter 28

  I Have No Idea What I Did Last Night

  —Sawyer—

  Riding with other guys—what the hell? And speaking of which, Kasey might wanna start looking for a new fucking job.

  Getting a car, insurance—she thinks she doesn’t need me? Everything I do is for her!

  Missed the last doctor appointment? That’s because she didn’t tell me!

  “Run, Sawyer, I won’t chase you.”

  “You finally figured it out, I’m glad!”

  I’ve got Patron in my system, she’s cooped up in the bathroom, avoiding me, and I can see Kasey’s smug fucking face across the room…I grab the bottle and shove it down the back of my pants, ready to blow outta here.

  Sawyer: You in your office?

  Dane: Yeah?

  Sawyer: All yours tonight. I’m out.

  And with that, I head out the back door to my bike. Ah, my beautiful girl, my silver GSX-R. Never talks back, always in the same place I left her and feels so good between my legs.

  I fire her up and fly out of the lot, not really knowing where I’m going until I know exactly where I’m going. I need a place to be a miserable, drunk degenerate. Somewhere no one decent I know will find me, where hurting the people you love most because you’re a scared fucking loser is acceptable. I take a left at the light and motor to CJ’s mysteriously now un-condemned apartment.

  Perfect. This is just the circle of hell I belong in. Smoke-filled air, beer cans everywhere, guys screaming at the Xbox and half-naked chicks trying to get their attention. Bitch getting fingered in the corner of the couch? Totally normal for this place, but she needs to put that shit away. It smells like catfish and assholes in here.

  But this is indeed where guys like me need to be. Nobody here’s thinking about babies or houses in safe neighborhoods with good schools or affordable family insurance. Nobody here cares that the best I can offer is slinging drinks for diaper money in the middle of the night while she’s up for feedings alone.

  Here? Here I’m actually the most put together person in the room.

  “Sawyer!” CJ yells from the couch. “Long time no see! You want a beer?”

  I pull the bottle out of my pants (a bit uncomfortable when you’re riding, by the way) and hold it up for him to see. “Drinking the good shit tonight. Brought my own.”

  “You want good shit, come get a hit off this.” He raises that creepy ass wizard bong.

  “Gimme a minute to get warmed up.” I walk into his kitchen and quickly decide not to use his glasses, instead taking a long, burning swig straight from the bottle.

  “What are you doing here?” a familiar purr says from behind me.

  Mariah. Great.

  “Hey, what’s up? What are you doing here?”

  “No race tonight; have to come to the man’s to find the sexy racers. Now what’s your excuse? Heard you quit.”

  She moves closer and I back away, right into a counter. Now I’m pinned between her and a sink full of dirty dishes. FML. I take another shot.

  “So did you quit?” She’s so close now I can smell her smoky ashtray breath.

  “Ya, I quit,” I reply, using a hand on her shoulder to gently urge her out of my space. “Sold my racing bike, too.”

  Here she comes again, right on top of me, running a hand up my arm and sneering at me. “Did that selfish bitch make you sell your bike?”

  “Nah, wasn’t like that. Let’s…” My eyes flash around, devising an escape plan. “Let’s go sit down at the table. Want to?”

  She tries to sit on my lap, but I foil that plan real fast, grabbing her hips and moving her over.

  “Sit in a chair,” I say sternly, “you’re suffocating me.”

  Pouting, and not sexy as hell like when Em does it, she takes the chair beside me and pulls it flush to mine. I ignore her, turning my bottle up once more. This expensive shit will fuck you up quick, which I’m realizing as I start seeing two of everything. When CJ sticks two joints in my face, I only take one of them and hit it. Mariah grabs my face and covers my mouth with her own, sucking the smoke out.

  “Shotgun!” CJ cheers.

  “Not cool.” I push her off me. “If I want your fucking mouth on me, I’ll tell you. You know damn good and well I have a girlfriend.”

  “Do you?” She attempts coy, trying to flirt. She bends down with one hand braced on her thigh, shirt gaping open, showing her tits, and bats her makeup-caked lashes. “Then why are you here and she’s not?”

  Pot, Patron, despair…I have no idea why I answer her. “Because I got scared. I was so busy worrying and planning, I lost her. I didn’t kiss her or love on her!” I slam a fist o
n the table, sending the bottle on its side. “Now she moved on.”

  “Ahh.” She stands, crushing my head in between her tits and rubbing my cheek. “If she moved on that fast when you were doing everything for her, then she doesn’t deserve you. A man like you needs someone who can treat you right; who can make you feel good and reward you for all you do.” Now her mouth is over my ear, whispering, “I can make you feel good. I’ve done it before and I’d love to do it again. Only this time, that bitch won’t fuck it up for us. I’ll take care of you all night long.”

  Nothing, not a twitch, slight chub, nothing. All I can think about is Emmett, her words running over and over through my brain.

  “Valiant effort.”

  “I won’t chase you.”

  “I told you over and over you wouldn’t want me.”

  “But I do want her. I love her so damn much. I only wanted some time, some space, to figure things out. I’m the man, goddammit! I need to make money and own a house, all the things she and Alex deserve!”

  “I didn’t ask you about her.” She glares at me now, both hands on her hips. “If you wanna go nursemaid to some short, fat, pregnant chick, go ahead, but I’m sick of hearing about it! My God, it isn’t even your baby!”

  Oh darn, she stormed off.

  I haven’t drank this much in years, let alone smoked. My forehead is pounding, right in the center, the spot aneurysms start, I’m guessing. What am I doing? This isn’t me. There’s not enough weed and whiskey in the world to make me not love Emmett. And I do. God I do.

  I take out my phone and scroll blearily through my contacts, waving goodbye to CJ and walking outside.

  “Hello?” Evan answers on the third ring.

  “Ev, bro, did I wake you up?”

  “Yup. What’s up?”

  “I’m fucked up, I fucked up. Can you come get me and my bike?” I grab a seat on the cold concrete step closest to my bike. “I’m not leaving it here to get stolen.”

  He grumbles as I hear him rouse, sheets rustling in the background. “Where the hell are you?”

  “Briarwood, they’re apartments. Don’t forget about my bike.”

  “Stay put. Do NOT drive.”

  “’Preciate it, man.”

  Okay, back on track. I’ll just go home and tell Emmett I’m sorry and we’ll start all over. I admit, I have no concept of time right now, so it may be five minutes or five hours before my ass is numb. I lie back, flat on my back on the hard, cold ground and look up at the stars. Damn, there’s a lot of them! Or maybe I’m just seeing two of every actual one; I have no idea.

  “Emmy, babe,” I talk to the black sky, me, filled with twinkling, bright lights, her, and practice what I’ll say. “You had it all wrong. I’ve always wanted you. Always. I was afraid I couldn’t be enough for you. You’re so strong and fearless, forgiving and loving—everything I’m not. I don’t forgive that man, the men, who’ve hurt you. It eats at me every damn day that I can’t fix that for you. And what if I’m a shit dad? Lord knows I didn’t get any formal lessons how to be a good one, let alone an excellent one. I work in a bar, for Christ’s sake! You need a house, a yard, that dog you mentioned.” I’m screaming at the moon now and sit up, swiping quickly below my eyes before I actually cry and feel like an even bigger puss.

  “You need a ride?”

  Lurking in the shadows? Who does that? Can you imagine the lengths she’d go to if I’d actually fucked her? “No, I’m good, thanks. I got a ride on his way.”

  “Sawyer, you’ve been out here for almost an hour. I don’t think they’re coming. Let me give you a ride.” She walks to stand in front of me, sticking out her hand. “Come on.”

  I grasp on and struggle to my feet, stumbling into her. “What about my bike?”

  “Get it in the morning.” She pulls me toward…hell, I don’t know. “I’m over here, let’s go.”

  I really don’t want to leave my bike at the mercy of this neighborhood, watching over my shoulder as it gets further and further away, but I need a bed. I’m a mess. I have to sober up so I can talk to Emmett, so regretfully, I cave and follow her.

  “I live—”

  “I know where you live,” she interrupts me haughtily.

  Of course she knows where I live, not at all creepy. Told ya I need to buy a house.

  “Sawyer!” Bright lights blind me, a voice calling my name. I cover my eyes with one hand, straining to see who’s beckoning me.

  Oh thank baby Jesus in a manger! Evan’s jogging up to me, Zach on his tail.

  “Where you think you’re going?” Evan asks me, eyeing my chauffeur skeptically.

  “I didn’t think you were coming. Marcy here was gonna take me home,” I slur out.

  “It’s Mariah, you asshole! My God, you came in my mouth and you can’t remember my name? You’re pathetic!” she yells, stomping her foot, and shoves on both my shoulders.

  Thank you so much, Marcy, for that public service announcement. “Easy on the name callin’ there, sassy. You let me come in your mouth without first making sure I’d want to remember your name.”

  “You what? Sawyer, dude, what the hell were you thinking?” Evan’s head drops, shaking from side to side.

  “Not just now! A long time ago. Emmett knows.” I chuckle, not sure why. “Hell, Emmett saw.”

  “I don’t…” Evan mutters, looking to Zach with a plea of help in his eyes. “Any idea what to do with that?”

  Zach steps up and grabs my arm. “Storytime’s over. M girl, go home. Sawyer, where’s your bike? We’re gonna get it loaded and you home.”

  I point to my bike, I’m almost positive, and let Zach drag me that way.

  “You better be so glad we got here in time, you dumb shit,” he growls in a low voice, squeezing the hell out of my arm. “If you’d have gotten in the car with some chick Emmett knows blew you before, she’d have never forgiven you.”

  Zach would know all about the pains of cheating—what’s her twin had done a number on him.

  “I know, I know. Thanks for saving my ass. Why’d Evan call you?”

  “To help load your precious bike. You’re no help,” he shrinks me with a glare of condemnation, “obviously. We’re both breaking curfew right now for this bullshit, by the way. We get caught or benched and you’re a dead man.”

  Chapter 29

  Road to Redemption

  —Sawyer—

  When I wake, I’m in my own bed, face down in the pillow. It takes a minute to get my bearings and collect my thoughts, considering my head feels like I used it as a battering ram, but it starts coming back and it’s not pretty. Parts of last night are fuzzy, but you’d think I’d remember someone shitting in my mouth, which is exactly what it tastes like. Pushing myself up with great care, at the speed of smell, I turn over and scrub my hands over my face. I feel like busted ass…and what is under my ass? Digging in the back pocket of my jeans, I pull out my phone. Nothing from Emmett.

  Evan: Bike under port, key on the kitchen counter. Good luck!

  I delete the twelve from Dane without reading them. I can only imagine the all caps, scathing rants he’d sent. No, thank you.

  Now time to bite the bullet.

  Sawyer: You home? Busy?

  While I wait for her to answer me, I muster up the will to climb out of bed and head for the shower. I start to feel half alive again under the scalding hot water, but the minute I step out, the pounding in my head returns with a vengeance. Wiping a clear spot in the fog on the mirror, I get my first glimpse of all that is Sawyer after a night of self-destruction. I definitely won’t have to tell people I’m hungover—one look will answer any curiosity.

  I check my phone, still no answer from Emmett. Hungover and haggard or not, this shit ends now. We are gonna talk, she is gonna listen, and it’s happening now. After I get dressed and scrub the enamel off my teeth and fuzz off my tongue, I head outside to her house.

  Car’s in the driveway. She’s either asleep or ignoring me.

  G
entlemanly is probably the safest route to take right now, so I ring the doorbell rather than busting straight up in. My hand’s tapping on the door frame, a lump of unease forming in my throat, when her sweet voice comes from the other side of the door.

  “Who is it?”

  “Em, it’s Sawyer.”

  “What do you want, Sawyer?”

  “I want to talk to you. Please, Em.” I’m not above groveling. My whole life’s on the other side of that door, so close I could knock this damn barrier down and grasp it, hold onto it, and never ever be foolish enough to let it go again, but still devastatingly out of reach. “Please.”

  The sound of the deadbolt unlocking gives me a surge of hope, new life springing in my regretful heart. She cracks open the door and her precious face peeks out. “Talk.”

  “Can I come in?”

  “I don’t think that’s a good idea, Sawyer. You can say whatever you need to from right there.” Her eyes won’t meet mine, head dipped, raven hair shrouding part of her face.

  “I’m sorry, Emmy, so sorry, babe.” I bend, both hands now spread on the frame, and dip my head to look up at her. “I never meant to hurt you or push you away. Please let me come in. I need to explain things, make us good again.”

  “Did you sleep with her?” Green eyes now lift to mine, brimming over with pain, pain caused by my carelessness.

  “What? Sleep with who?” I’m a horrible person. I begged for her heart, and when she finally, wholly gave it, I didn’t take care of it.

  “You know who,” she sneers. “Mariah. Last night, did you sleep with her?”

  “No, God no! Why would you even ask that?” And how’d you even know I saw her?

  She shuts the door in my face, the lock clicking back in place. I dig out my keys, fumbling for the right one, when it suddenly opens again. She slips two things to me through the crack in the door, first, the empty ring box I put my davra in when I’m not wearing it, and second, her phone, a screen already pulled up for me.