Entice (28 page)

“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 take 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!”

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—

R
iding 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.