Sawyer (Carolina Reapers 2)

Her gray eyes narrowed, and she tilted her head so the light caught the silver streaks in her black hair.

“I want you to take this recliner with you. I’ll worry less if you do.” It was the one I’d bought her when I got my signing bonus, the one that mechanically tilted and lifted to help her stand.

“I’ll take the chair, but no changing the subject.” Her words were slower today, but she was also tired.

“What do you want me to do, Mom?”

“I want you to fight for her!”

“How?” I turned and grabbed another stack of books to pack. “She doesn’t want me around. She threw me out of her house. She said we were over. How exactly would you like me to fight for her?”

“You show up and don’t leave!” she snapped.

“Well, they call that stalking.” I slid another stack of books into the box.

“Sawyer McCoy, you damn well know what I mean. You’ve got a stubborn streak a mile wide. I want you to use that to your advantage.”

“I tried.”

“Try again.”

I sucked a breath in through my nose and let it out through my mouth. I loved my mother more than my own life, but she was sucking all of my patience dry. “Can’t we talk about something else? I don’t have much time before I have to leave for the plane.”

My suitcase was already in the truck, packed and ready to go. The flight for Vegas left in three hours, where hopefully we’d win a fucking game.

“I’m worried about you,” she said quietly.

I stilled.

“Sawyer, once I’m with my sisters, and off-season is here, what are you going to do?”

“Oh.” I laughed, thinking she’d meant something else entirely. “I don’t know. Work out. Hang with friends. Call you.” I shrugged. “I’ll be okay.”

Her face fell. “You won’t. Honey, you’ve been hiding for so long that I’m not sure you even know what to do with yourself.”

I crouched before her. “Hiding?”

She put her hands on my face. “The moment your father walked out, you stood up and started taking care of me.”

“Of course—”

“Shhh. Listen. You didn’t scream at him, or cry, or act out in the normal way teenagers would. You hid every emotion behind this to-do list that never ended. You never sat still long enough to process any of it. Between your insane hockey schedule in college and checking in on me, I’m surprised you ever had time to forge any real connections.”

“I had relationships, Mom. It wasn’t as bad as you think it was.” Women I’d dated, and a couple I’d fallen for.

“Every girl you dated needed something from you. A shoulder to cry on, a steady hand, someone to hold her up. I’ve never seen someone care for you until Echo.”

That crushing pain awoke in my chest. “Well, look how that ended.” I forced a smile.

“I love you, Sawyer, but you’re about to be out of excuses. I’m moving, and you know I’ll be happy. Your season is about to be over, win or lose the Cup. And then what? What will you find to do that will keep you from going after the woman you love?”

My forehead wrinkled.

“It’s time to figure out what life looks like when you don’t have me burdening you.”

“You’re never a burden!” God, I hope she knew I meant that.

“Fine. It’s time to figure out what life looks like now that you’re going to put yourself first. Because that’s what you have to do. You have to figure out what you want. You’re not obligated to me, and this summer you’re not obligated to the Reapers. What you are obligated to is your own heart.”

“The heart that belongs to the woman who doesn’t want it?”

“She called. She wants something.”

“She probably wants me to bring back the cell phone charger she left at my house,” I joked.

“Then take the charger and plead your case. And if she won’t listen, you plead it again until she does.”

Before I could answer her, my phone buzzed in my pocket, and I quickly yanked it out, praying it was Echo calling back. The number wasn’t familiar, and I nearly sent it to voicemail, but it was a local area code, so I took a chance.

“Hello?”

“Sawyer?” a teary southern drawl asked.

“Yes? Who is this?” I stood as the hairs on the back of my neck prickled.

“It’s Annabelle. Look, I’m on my way to the hospital. Echo’s been in an accident.”

“Where is she?” I asked the second Annabelle came into view.

She stopped pacing the fluorescent-lighted hallway and turned to face me. “Mom, I’ll call you back.” She dropped her phone in her purse and headed my way. “I’m glad you came. She might not be, but I am.”

“Where is she?” I repeated as if I was only capable of those words.

I’d driven like a maniac to get here, bloody scenes playing in my head the whole time. What if she was badly injured? What if—nope, not going there. I refused to even imagine a life where she wasn’t alive.