Sawyer (Carolina Reapers 2)

I gave her a pointed look, knowing our friendship had suffered the biggest hit during that time in my life. Thankfully, we’d found some common ground again, but it wasn’t the same. It wasn’t easy like my friendship with Langley, Faith, and Harper. This friendship had been wounded, and it was still raw.

“And the minute I dragged myself away from that,” I continued. “The minute I realized what that life was doing to me…” I sighed, my chest aching from the emotions storming it.

“You chased your dream,” she finished for me and motioned to the bar.

“I tried to make amends,” I said a bit softer as I finished unloading the bin and returned to lean in front of her.

Annabelle gripped my hand. “You’ve done everything right since then, Echo. Look at this place,” she said, eyeing the bar again. “It’s beautiful. It’s everything you and your father ever talked about. And it’s filled with regulars from the town you love. Filled with fans of the hockey team that is now such a huge part of your life. I’ve never seen you more you in all our lives.”

I pressed my lips into a line, eyeing our joined hands. “I should frantically call you about boy trouble more often,” I teased.

She laughed, releasing me. “Boy trouble? I believe Sawyer McCoy, star goalie for the Carolina Reapers is a far cry from Travis Buford.”

I gaped at her. “That was the fifth grade!”

“He wasn’t worth it, was he?” She tsked. “Fighting with poor Suzie May over him. You ripped her favorite blue sundress.”

“She yanked out a chunk of my hair!”

Annabelle flashed me a look she’d mastered over our lifetime, the one that screamed I should’ve known better.

Story of my fucking life.

“Now,” she said, eyeing me. “Is Sawyer McCoy worth all this fuss you’re giving over this silly old key?” She nudged the key closer to me on the bar, and I recoiled like it was a hot poker.

Was Sawyer worth it? Worth letting someone in again?

I knew better than anyone that people never stay.

They die. They leave.

Even Annabelle left for a little while, not that I could blame her. I wasn’t exactly the Echo she’d grown up with.

It’d taken hitting rock bottom, but I’d finally found myself comfortable in my own skin, and letting someone in? That had the power to rip all my progress to shreds.

Sure, I’d never gotten addicted to the drugs like Chad had, but I’d used them and alcohol and him to slake the pain. To numb the daily life I couldn’t stand to wake up to—a world where my entire family, the three people I’d loved most in this world, were taken from me.

I’d thought I loved Chad that way.

Now I knew better.

Because he’d done nothing to save me from myself when I was drowning in grief and instead did everything to keep me there. Keep me dazed, keep me weak, keep me sedated enough where I couldn’t feel the pain. Couldn’t touch it enough to deal with it and work toward moving on. Work toward a better life. Work toward what I had now.

I sighed, raking my hands through my hair.

“What if he thinks after what happened last night, that I’m going to just jump up and be his beck and call girl? Like the bunnies I see here every other night? What if this key is to be used when he rolls back into town or after every home game and—” I stopped myself short. Shaking my head. “Or. Or, what if he gave it to me as an invitation. A silent way of saying he wants more than the no-strings-attached relationship we’ve agreed to.”

Annabelle bit her glossed lip, tsking me once again. “Echo Hayes, I haven’t seen you this torn up about a man since Dwight Pruitt.”

I snapped my fingers. “Don’t!” I laughed. “Don’t you dare say a bad word about sweet Dwight.”

She laughed so hard tears formed in the corners of her eyes. “You always stuck up for him in school, and he fell head over heels for Jessica Daniels. You cried for weeks.”

“It was grade school,” I said, reeling in my laughter. “And him and Jessica have been happily married for over a decade!”

“Still,” she said, dabbing the corners of her eyes with a napkin. Her eyeliner nor mascara hadn’t dared budge. “I’ve never seen you so worked up. Which leads me to believe you have actual real feelings for this man. More than whatever deal you’ve struck with him.”

“I don’t.”

She tilted her head. “You’re lying to yourself.”

“What makes you say that?”

“Because, honey,” she said. “If you didn’t care?” She eyed the key on the bar between us. “You would’ve tossed that key in the garbage, had a laugh, and never spoken to the man again. Or, you would’ve chucked it at the man, then laughed, then never called. If you truly didn’t want something more, you wouldn’t be sitting here debating it with your oldest and dearest friend.”