“And you think that’s fair to her?”
“I don’t fucking know.” Feeling cornered by his questioning my pulse kicks behind my ribs. “We’ve been together for a week, how the fuck should I know?”
“Look . . .” He rubs his eyes. “I’ve been driving all morning. I’m gonna head over to my place and crash before I start dealing with all this bullshit bank stuff.” He stands and tosses his beer into the garbage.
“I’ll get cleaned up and meet you over there in a few hours.”
He smiles, but again the expression communicates more sadness than anything. “Sounds good.”
He passes through the back door and I stare at nothing, the whole time my mind turning over Cal’s words.
I asked her to consider staying because I love the way I feel when we’re together. But what do I have to offer a woman like Celia? In one week I’ve managed to unleash all my demons on her. And yet . . . she keeps coming back. I’m being selfish and when the time comes I should just let her go.
The problem is, I don’t think I can.
SAWYER
I’ve made more progress on boxing Celia’s things in the last two hours than I have the entire time I’ve been in San Diego. With the threat of Cal telling Aden about who I really am I’ve never been in a bigger hurry to get this done and get back to Phoenix and far away from Aden Colt.
My chest aches at the idea of not having him in my life, which is ridiculous. I’m not some lovesick girl with inflated ideas about life and relationships. If my twenty-four years have taught me anything it’s that shit happens frequently and I have a bull’s-eye on my back.
Time’s up, Sawyer.
Come clean and confess, or get the hell out as soon as possible.
God, what was I thinking!
I grit my teeth remembering the promises I made my sister. That damn quarter, taking chances, but all I’ve managed to do is create a web of lies I can’t get out of without hurting someone I care deeply for.
After moving all the boxes to the front of the cottage I pull out the small yellow pages and dial the number for the shipping company who is responsible for getting all Celia’s things back to my parents.
“Crosscountry Express, how can I help you?”
“Hi, I’m . . .” I look around to make sure no one’s standing outside the open windows. “Sawyer Forrester. I arranged for you guys to ship some boxes back to Phoenix for me?”
“Yeah, I see it here. Pickup in Ocean Beach. We have it down for the fifth?”
“Yeah, but they’re ready now. Is there any way they can be taken sooner?”
“Ohh, no can do. Tomorrow’s the Fourth.”
“So?”
She huffs in my ear. “We’ll be closed for the holiday.”
I rub my forehead, feeling completely dense. “Fourth of July, right. I’m sorry. I wasn’t thinking.”
“If you’d called yesterday I could’ve had the guys pick up the boxes today, but they’re booked for the afternoon. I’m sorry.”
“I understand. We’ll stick with the fifth.”
“It’s better this way. No one in their right mind would willingly leave town before the Fourth of July.”
“I wouldn’t know,” I say absently while trying to figure out how I’ll be able to avoid Aden for another day.
“The fireworks go off on the pier and everyone paddles out on surfboards to watch. It’s incredible.”
“In the ocean? At night?”
She laughs. “You’re funny.”
Yeah, and she’s crazy if she thinks I’d sit on a surfboard with my feet dangling like an earthworm appetizer into the dark waters at night. “I’ll have everything ready on the fifth, then.”
“Sure thing. We’ll be there early.”
I hit END and toss my phone on the couch. Looking around the room there’s nothing but boxes, bare walls, and barren furniture. And I’m stuck for two more days.
There’s no way I’ll be able to avoid Aden for that long.
I chew my lip, my palms sweating and my pulse racing. A hotel. I’ll go to a hotel.
A knock on the door nearly sends me through the roof as my nerves seem to crack and fizzle beneath my skin.
I don’t want to see anyone. Can’t bear opening the door to see the questions in Aden’s eyes, or worse, the anger of betrayal.
“I know you’re in there.”
My stomach threatens to heave at the sound of Cal’s stern voice as he calls me out. If only I could turn to liquid and melt off the couch and into the floor—
Another knock.
Shit!
“I have a key. Don’t make me use it.”
My shoulders slump and I push off the couch. This is happening. May as well get it over with. Tears spring to my eyes when I think how something that started out so innocent is about to blow up in my face. There’s no way I’ll be able to walk away from this without emotional shrapnel.
I unlock and crack open the door only to be met by his scolding stare. “Hey.”
He doesn’t take his cold dark eyes off mine. “Mind if I come in?”
I step back, bringing the door with me, hiding behind it as if the wood can protect me from his chastisement.
Steady steps carry him in and across the tight space, his eyes scanning the boxes and the walls. He’s not a small man and even in a Hawaiian print shirt, shorts, and flip-flops he’s intimidating. He doesn’t seem angry, his body language not giving off irritation as much as grief.
I say nothing. There’s just nothing to say. He must think the absolute worst of me and no matter how many ways I flip the story around in my head it all leads to the same conclusion. I lied to and deceived someone he loves.
“She didn’t make it?”
My eyes dart to his. “I’m . . . what?”
“Your sister. Celia. She’s . . .” He swallows and the lump in his throat bobs. “Dead.”
“No, she’s not.” Dead. I can’t bring myself to say the word.
He tilts his head and studies me. “Then . . .” He swings an arm around, motioning to the boxes. “Why are you here packing up her stuff?”
I run my fingers across my lips and wonder how honest I should be. Cal and Celia were close, and she assured me no one knew she was sick.
“You know?”
He looks down at me and the stern set of his jaw reminds me of Aden. “She confided in me shortly before she left. Made me promise I wouldn’t say a word.”
I motion for him to sit and then hesitantly move to the opposite end of the couch to sit on the edge. “She told me no one knew. She asked me to come pack up her stuff and . . .” As I line up my excuse in my head it sounds ridiculous, but it’s the truth so I share, “Pretend I was her.”
“And how’s that working out for ya?” There’s no humor in his voice, but rather a parental reprimand that has me curling in on myself.
I knew this was a bad idea, but I couldn’t say no to my sick sister!
“It’s working well, no one seems to know I’m not her.”
“Including Aden.”
“Yes.” Shame soaks me in regret. “Including him.”
He nods and leans forward to rest his elbows on his knees. “You need to tell him.”
“I can’t. He’ll hate me.”
He eyes me. “He cares about you.”
“I didn’t mean for that to happen—”
“Too bad. It did, and he deserves to know who you really are, Sawyer.”