Sawyer (Carolina Reapers 2)

“It’s not too late,” I said, smiling at her. “You say the word and I can make it happen. My guy is the best.”

She laughed, a full, booming sound that made Sawyer’s eyes light up.

“I like you,” she said. “Now, you two need to leave.”

“Mom!” Sawyer gaped at her.

“What?” She pursed her lips, motioning toward the window. “It’s a perfectly beautiful night out there. You two kids should be out on the town. Go hook up with your Reapers and have some fun.”

“I thought we were going to play cards,” Sawyer said.

“Nonsense. I’m tired of cards. I’m going to go down to the social hour in a few minutes. You insisted on getting me the best living facility, and now I’m going to indulge in the amenities. You’re not the only one who’s been making friends.” She stood with Sawyer’s help, but walked proudly to the door and swung it open. “Out.”

I raised my brows but did as I was told and headed toward the door.

“So lovely to meet you, Echo,” she said as I passed her.

“You too,” I said, biting back a laugh at the way Sawyer just stared at her wide-eyed.

“Love you, son. Have a good night.” She waved him onward.

He kissed her on her cheek. “Love you too, Mom.”

She shut the door behind us, and I couldn’t hold back the laugh one second more.

“She’s amazing,” I said through my laughs.

Sawyer finally joined in as we rode the elevator down to the ground level. “She’s not normally so…aggressive.”

“Well,” I said, walking toward his truck. “Maybe you’ve finally given her a place she can let loose in?”

“Maybe,” he said, holding the door open for me despite my protests. When he fell behind the wheel he asked, “Where to? Frosted Flakes?”

“Let’s save cereal for another time,” I said. “I’ve got a better idea. Head downtown.”

Twenty minutes later, Sawyer and I were strolling down one of Charleston’s main streets, munching on kabobs from my favorite food truck.

“This is life,” he said, gobbling up his last bite before tossing the skewer in a trash can on the corner.

“I know, right?” I tossed my empty skewer too. “That truck has been a favorite of mine for years.”

“It must’ve been nice to grow up here,” he said, his eyes drinking in the city at night—the historic buildings that had been converted into restaurants or boutique shops. The golden lights drenching the pavement in an amber hue that set a nostalgic tone.

I tucked my thumbs into my black thermal, shrugging. “Mostly.”

“Sorry,” he said. “Didn’t mean to dig up the past.”

“No,” I said. “It’s all right.”

“I mean, I have already met a piece of your past,” he continued, and I couldn’t ignore the bite in his tone.

“Ah,” I said. “That’s a pretty direct way to bring up my ex.”

“Can you blame me?” he asked as we continued to walk, taking in the sights of the busy street. “The guy was…”

“You don’t need to finish that statement,” I said. His run-in with Chad had been awkward, to say the least. Unexpected, too, especially since he showed up right after the mind-blowing kiss that had resulted from a dare. “I know how it looked.” I sighed. “He wasn’t always like that. In the beginning, we were in college, and then he was this stand-up stockbroker. We fell hard, and fast and I thought he was it. Then my father died—he was my world, you know. I’d already lost my mother and sister in a car wreck a few years before—it was my fault too. Dad had driven me to my piano recital, and mom was bringing my sister after she’d gotten out of soccer practice. Someone ran a red light, crushed them right into a median. If I hadn’t had that stupid recital…”

I blinked a few times, a sharp gasp on my lips. I hadn’t spoken out loud about their deaths—and my responsibility in it—for years.

“That wasn’t your fault—”

“Anyway,” I cut Sawyer off, shaking my head at myself. “After Dad’s heart attack...Chad was all I had left. And when I found out he loved white lines more than me, I thought I could make him stay by diving into that world with him.”

A muscle in Sawyer’s jaw ticked, so I tugged on his forearm and settled us on an empty bench. “That bothers you, doesn’t it?”

“My dad was an addict. He walked out on my mother when she was diagnosed. Chose drugs over her. Over us.”

I squeezed his hand. “That’s a load of horse shit.”

He huffed. “Yeah.”

I shook my head. “I understand, though. That pain.” I took my hand back, staring out at the busy street—at the shoppers rushing this way and that, at the couples venturing to the local restaurants on dates, the street musicians playing jazz on the corner. “No one ever stays in my life. Not really. They either die or they leave.” I swallowed against the old familiar pain I’d done my damnedest to bury. “I left that life behind me,” I said, gathering myself. “Once I realized I was using the nightlife and Chad as a coping mechanism for losing Dad…I left. I ended things with Chad, and I threw myself into my work.”