by T. L. Haddix
After Daniel was gone, Sydney didn’t have the strength to feel anything other than hurt. The blow of losing the baby had pushed her over the edge and into a chasm of self-preservation.
Sawyer walked her inside after her tears had died down, leading her to the bathroom. “Let’s get your face washed,” he said softly.
She stood perfectly still as he wet the washcloth, then took her glasses off and carefully set them aside. When he started gently blotting her face, she stopped him. His kindness was killing her.
“This isn’t working for me,” she rasped. She laid the cloth aside and reached instead for the tissues. Once her nose was clean, she ran water and splashed her face, aware of Sawyer’s tension as she delayed.
“You’re going to have to be more specific,” he said. “What isn’t working?”
“All of this. Us.”
She kept her eyes on the sink, the water playing over her hands.
Sawyer reached out and turned it off. “Look at me.”
“There’s nothing to say,” she protested, pulling back when he reached for her. “Do we have to make a big deal over this? I thought we agreed that wouldn’t happen.”
He blew out a breath. She could tell he was struggling to maintain his calm. “Okay. I’ll back off for now. But we are going to talk.” Moving fast, he sneaked in a hard, desperate kiss.
Before she could do more than gasp, he was gone.
A couple of minutes later, her father was knocking on the door. “Sydney?”
“I’ll be right out.”
She put her glasses on, avoiding her reflection in the mirror, and opened the door. Archer was leaning against the opposite wall, arms crossed.
“Are they gone?” she asked.
“It’s just you and me, kid.” He eyed her with concern. “What do you want me to do?”
She shook her head. “I don’t know. Make everything okay?”
He held his arms open, and she walked in for a hug. “I wish I could. Want to go home with me? I’ll make you pancakes and we can watch TV.”
Sydney tightened her grip, hugging him so hard that he grunted. “I appreciate the offer, but I think I need some time alone.”
“If you change your mind, you know where to find me.”
“Love you, Daddy. Thanks for understanding.”
Archer kissed her forehead. “Love you, too, sweetheart.”
After he left, she locked the house down and went back to the bedroom. She was utterly exhausted. Stripping down, she crawled in bed and waited for the oblivion of sleep to claim her.
With Sydney clearly needing space, Sawyer didn’t have much choice but to leave. He stopped to have a brief word with Danny and Archer on his way out.
“If she needs anything, will one of you let me know?”
Archer nodded. “I’m sorry for whatever role I played in… I shouldn’t have pushed.”
“This isn’t about today,” Sawyer admitted. “It’s a culmination of things. Just take care of her?”
“We will.”
Needing some space himself, he headed home. Several miles of swimming would at least burn off some of his anger and frustration, he hoped.
By bedtime that night, he’d exhausted himself to the point that he thought he could sleep. He wanted to go to Sydney, but that wasn’t an option. If he ever wanted it to happen again, he knew he had to keep his distance.
Whatever Gods existed in the universe were laughing at him. He knew that. If he weren’t hurting so much, he’d be laughing, too.
He had an appointment tomorrow in Lexington he had to keep. He’d use that time, and maybe the weekend, as well, to let things calm down between him and Sydney. But if he hadn’t heard from her come Monday, he’d reach out. There was no way he was willing to let her go as easily as she seemed to think he would. Not until she told him in plain words why it was over, and maybe not even then.
Chapter Fifty-Five
Knowing Sawyer would be away Friday, Sydney went into the office. She made a couple of circles around the block first to make sure he wasn’t in town. When she didn’t see his truck, she parked and went to work.
A lot of tasks had gotten pushed aside through the week, as well as the week before, thanks to everything that had happened. And while she figured she probably wouldn’t have a job much longer, until he told her she was fired, she had things that she needed to do. Besides, the busywork would keep her mind off the state of her personal life.
By the time four o’clock rolled around, she’d plowed through a great deal of the paperwork that had built up. She stacked the finished work on Sawyer’s desk and locked the place down. Danny had called earlier to ask her to dinner, the invitation a thinly veiled command.
“We need to talk,” he said.
“I know. I’d appreciate a shoulder to cry on, to tell the truth. A sounding board. When and where do you want to meet?”
They’d decided on his small apartment at the church and set the time.
She stopped by the house to change into comfortable clothes, then made the drive, using the time to clear her mind.
When she got to the church, Danny was out back, watering his small garden patch. In khaki shorts and a ratty T-shirt that she remembered him wearing new when they were teenagers, the familiar sight of him nearly made her cry.
“Feeling better today?” he asked.
“Some. I went in to work.”
He turned off the water hose. “With Sawyer? How’d that go?”
“He’s in Lexington today. He didn’t know I was there.”
“Ah.” He pursed his lips as he rolled the hose up. “Are you quitting your job or do you plan to try to stay on?”
“I don’t know. What do you think I should do?”
“I think you need to talk to him. Tell him you’re in love with him.”
She walked over to a healthy pot of basil and bent down to sniff its fragrant leaves. “I’d rather not do that.”
He shrugged. “I hate spinach but I eat it.”
Sydney threw him a dirty look over her shoulder. “Smart ass.”
“Yeah. What’s your point?”
“I don’t think I’m strong enough to have that conversation, Dan.”
“Maybe not. You might not get a choice. Monday will be here before you know it.”
“I am very aware of that. I hope I have a plan by then.”
But she didn’t. All weekend, she dithered, going back and forth between wanting to run and wanting to stay and have it out with Sawyer. Tired of her own indecision, she texted him Sunday night.
“Do I still have a job, or am I fired?”
His response didn’t come for several minutes, long enough that she was starting to wonder whether he’d received the message or not.
“Up to you. Ready to talk yet?”
“No.”
“Okay, then. See you at nine,” he texted back.
Sydney fell back on the bed with a sigh. “At least there’s that,” she told the ceiling.
Incredibly awkward didn’t begin to describe the mood in the office Monday morning. Sawyer was there before she was, going through papers in the reception area. He looked up warily as she came in.
“Hey,” Sydney said, watching him. He looked tired, a little worn, and she felt guilty for that.
“Hey. You worked this weekend?” He held up one of the reports she’d finished Friday.
“Yeah. I needed to catch up.”
“Okay.” He looked down at the papers in his hand. “I’ll be in the office, then.”
By lunchtime, some of the tension had faded, but it was still less than ideal. Sydney figured it would be until after they talked. She was trying to gather her courage to suggest they do just that when he came out of the office t
o make some copies. Before she could speak, his cell phone rang. He frowned when he pulled it from its case and saw the caller’s name.
“Hello? Hey, Frank. What’s going on?” He went still, so much so that Sydney knew something was very wrong. “When? Ah, geez. No, okay. I’m sorry. I… Yeah. Have you called Nan?” He closed his eyes and sighed. “I will. I’ll have to let you know. How’s Mom?”
Sydney got to her feet, gripping her pen so tightly in her hand it would leave an imprint as she waited for him to end the call.
“Tell her I’m sorry. I’ll call Nan right away, and I’ll be in touch.” He ended the call, staring at his phone as though it were an alien device.
“Sawyer?”
“My father’s dead.” His voice was flat. “I have to call Nan. Excuse me.” He turned and went into his office, closing the door.
“What? No,” she said, following him. When she opened the door, he turned, a fiercely angry scowl on his face.
“Do you know what that door being closed means?” he growled.
“Yes, I do. But you can’t say something like that and just walk away. What happened?”
For a moment, she thought he was going to tell her off. Instead, he ignored her and made a call as he paced behind the desk. “Nan? Hey. You busy?”
Much the same way he was wont to do with her, Sydney perched on the edge of his desk and listened to the conversation. The nasty looks he was giving her didn’t sway her in the least.
“Frank just called. I have some bad news. Dad’s gone. I guess he had a heart attack.”
Sydney could hear Nan’s muted reaction, and though she couldn’t understand the words, she picked up the nuances.
“I’ll drive up tomorrow if you’re sure you’re up to flying alone. Okay. No, he said Mom’s sedated. She’s at home. He and Jana are there with her. Matt’s on his way in.”
When he hung up, he stared at a poster on the wall. “I need you to cancel everything for the rest of the week. And we might have to work late tonight to get things done.”
“Okay. I’ll get started on that right now.” She waited for another minute, but he didn’t say anything else, so she went out, closing the door behind her. She leaned against it, her heart breaking for him. There was never a good time to get the kind of news he’d just received, but to have gotten it on top of all the turmoil from everything else?
“It just isn’t fair,” she whispered under her breath. “Why’d you have to do this to him now?” She wasn’t sure if she was asking that of God or herself. She knew if she hadn’t pushed him away, she might be able to help ease the burden he’d be carrying in the coming days. But she couldn’t go back, as much as she regretted how she’d acted. She’d have to try to help from a distance, instead, and hope it was enough.
An hour later, Nan called her cell phone. “Can you talk?”
Sydney glanced at the door. “Give me just a couple of minutes and I’ll call you back. I don’t want him to overhear.”
“Okay.”
She grabbed her wallet and phone, then went to the door and tapped.
“Come in.” When she opened the door, Sawyer was sorting through papers, his phone tucked between his shoulder and ear. “Yeah?”
“I’m going to grab something to eat. Can I get you anything?”
“No. I’m fine, thanks.” He looked away, dismissing her.
Sydney took the hint and closed the door, then left. She called Nan back once she’d reached her car.
“Hey. Sorry about that. I wanted to get someplace private. How are you?”
Sawyer’s grandmother let out a huffing breath. “Worried about my boy. How is he? I know you two are having problems. I’m assuming from your remark about him overhearing that you’re at work?”
“Yes. He’s… I don’t know how he is. He shut me out as soon as the call came in, not that I blame him given how things have been the last few days. How much do you know?”
“I know about the baby, but why don’t you fill me in?”
Sydney did. Over the weeks she’d been working with Sawyer, she’d gotten to know Nan fairly well, and they’d struck up a friendship. They usually talked on the phone at least once a week now.
“So that’s where we’re at. I was shocked when he didn’t object to me coming in this morning,” she finished.
“Hmmm. I’m not. The boy has some common sense, after all. He’s a stubborn Evans, and he gets a fair amount from the Carsons, God knows, but he’s smart for all that obstinance. You realize this is going to hit him hard, right?”
“Yeah, I do. And if I hadn’t been so damned obstinate myself, I’d be able to help him. What should I do, Nan?”
“Don’t let him head north by himself. Go with him. He won’t like it, but I have faith in you. You can figure out how to get him to let you ride along.”
“He said something about you flying in?”
“I’ll be on a plane late this evening. Matty is going to meet me at the airport.” She sighed. “I’ve wanted to meet you, but sure as hell not under these circumstances.”
“Me, too. Are you sure I should force his hand?”
Nan gave a short laugh. “Absolutely. I can’t promise it won’t get ugly, though.”
Sydney grimaced. “Oh, I can almost guarantee you it will. I have an idea of how to approach him, but I don’t know if it will work or not.”
“Like I said, I have faith in you, girl. You two be careful on the road, hear me?”
“Wish me luck.”
She could hear the smile in Nan’s voice. “You have it.”
After she hung up, Sydney closed her eyes and leaned back, praying for strength. As long as Sawyer stuck to his plan to head out in the morning, she could pull this off. They’d be working late, and as soon as she got off, she’d head home and pack, then drive to his house.
“God, what if he isn’t alone?” she whispered. “What if we’re all misreading this and he’s not as broken up over us as we think?”
Learning that was the case would do her in, but she’d promised Nan she’d pull a rabbit out of her hat. She had to try. She just hoped her fears were unfounded.
Chapter Fifty-Six
Sawyer got home that evening after nine, tired, hurting, and entirely out of sorts. He’d not slept well since Wednesday night, and he was at his emotional breaking point.
“Guess we’re taking turns,” he said to the empty bedroom. He pulled his clothes off and angrily tossed them into the hamper, then hit the pool hard. He swam for close to an hour before he finally felt like he’d exhausted his pent-up anger enough to get out. He’d just gotten showered and dressed and had sat down with a sandwich in his office when headlights flashed through the house.
“Who in the world?” It was after ten. Grabbing a gun from his desk drawer, he tucked it into his waistband at the small of his back and went to the door. A glance through the peephole showed Sydney coming up the walk, a small overnight bag in her hand.
“What are you doing here?” he asked as he jerked the door open.
“I’m going with you tomorrow,” she told him through the screen door.
Sawyer glared at her, his head warring with his heart and his emotions. “You’re what?”
“Going with you. We can take my car. Nan made me promise. Are you going to let me in, or am I going to have to stand out here all night?”
“How about you go home? How’s that sound? I like that idea a hell of a lot better.”
She raised her chin stubbornly. “I’m sure you do. It isn’t happening.”
“You’re the one who told me we weren’t working. What is this, then?”
“This is you being a stubborn ass who wants an argument. We don’t need to go down that road right now and you know it. Let me in. I’ll sleep on the couch.
For the next few days, just think of me as a pesky co-worker. All right?”
With an aggravated growl, he flipped the latch and let her in. “Take the bed. I’m on the couch.” That was part of the reason he wasn’t sleeping well—he’d been on the couch since he came home from her house. The empty bed was too much of a reminder that she wasn’t there.
“Do you have your bags packed?” she asked as she set her own down at the end of the couch.
“Not yet. I needed to decompress first.”
“Want some help with that? The packing, not the decompressing,” she clarified when he shot her an incredulous look. He was gratified to see her cheeks flush and was half tempted to push her just for the sake of being contrary.
“Whatever floats your boat,” he said instead. He headed to the office for his food, leaving her to follow or not. She did, but she stopped in the doorway.
“Where’s your luggage? The closet?”
“Yeah. I’ll have to get it down.”
There wasn’t much conversation as she supervised the packing. Instead of the throw it in and make it fit method he preferred, she was neat and orderly.
“Which suits are you taking?” she asked, walking into the closet.
He chose two, a medium-gray and a darker charcoal-gray, along with four white dress shirts. Sydney picked out several ties, holding them up for his inspection, and he nodded.
“Those are fine.”
As he zipped the dress clothes into their hanging bag, the idea that his father was gone caught him off guard. His hands tightened on the vinyl of the bag, and he had to blow out a slow breath to retain his focus.
“What time are we leaving?” Sydney asked quietly as she dug dark-colored socks out of his dresser.
“I’d like to be on the road by six. How much gas is in the car?”
“Full tank. I stopped on the way here and filled up.”
“Does your family know you’re going with me?” He hung the bag up on the closet door, straightening it with precision just to give his hands something to do besides reach for her.