But…maybe someday that wouldn’t be the case.
I took my time shaving my legs and let the lavender aroma of my body wash soothe my shattered soul. I forced myself to focus on my plans for the screened in porch. This next week I was going to move forward. I was going to be productive. I was going to look towards the future and leave the past where it belonged, in the past.
When the water started to get cold, I took it as my cue to get out. I dried off, applied a decent amount of lotion all over my body and took a moment to stare in the mirror. I was surprised at what I saw, or should I say how my brain interpreted what I saw.
Instead of my eyes immediately zoning in and judging the areas that I had considered my problem areas, my wide hips, stomach pouch, and upper arm fat, I saw all of my body. All the curves that made me the woman that I was. I didn’t see flaws, I just saw me. And I liked me.
As I continued studying myself in the mirror, an epiphany struck me. All my life I’d been worried about the wrong things. So what if I had cellulite? So what if I had stretch marks? So what if my stomach wasn’t flat as a pancake? Did any of those things really matter? No.
If there was one thing that I could take away from my experience over the past few weeks it was whatever disconnect he-who-shall-remain-nameless had with me, it wasn’t physical. In that, at least, we were on the same page. He’d had no problem with the extra weight that had taunted me and held me back from truly enjoying life.
Not once had I felt insecure or nervous about my body around him. If I traveled back in time and told myself that a year ago, I would’ve laughed in my face. My body image had been such a huge struggle my entire life. I’d been sure that it was going to be the biggest obstacle if anything actually happened with my dark angel. But, as it turned out, that had been the one non-issue we’d had. I’d never once worried about what he was thinking about how I looked. I didn’t have to. I’d lived in the moment.
With him, I was enough. I was present. I was happy.
And that shouldn’t change just because things hadn’t worked out the way I’d wanted.
Taking a deep breath, I stated aloud, “I am enough. I am present. I am happy.”
Well, two out of three ain’t bad. I’d find my happy again, and until then I would fake it until I made it.
Chapter 25
Sawyer
“Thinkin’ you know what’s best doesn’t do ya any good if you’re wrong.”
~ Grant Turner
“How’s your dad doin’?” Mrs. Reed asked as she passed by the main booth that I was manning.
“He’s good,” I stated.
It had to be the hundredth time I’d answered that question in the past two hours. Which was always followed up by…
“And your mama, how’s she holdin’ up?”
There it was.
“She’s hangin’ in there.”
She’d been camped out at the hospital since my dad was admitted. He’d had a few complications that were keeping him there, but every day he was getting stronger. My mom hadn’t left his side. She’d had my brothers, sister and I bring her changes of clothes, books, and her laptop. We’d all tried to convince her to take a break and go home, but she’d dismissed us, saying that she’d leave when my dad did.
Staying in the hospital hadn’t slowed her down one bit. She’d been running things on the farm and keeping all of her community commitments without skipping a beat. Which was the reason I was here, at Movies in the Park.
Every Saturday evening in the spring and summer, weather permitting, the community gathered in the town square for a barbecue and live music. Then when the sun went down a movie would be projected onto the side of city hall, the tallest building in Wishing Well. I didn’t make a habit of attending. It was a social event and being social wasn’t my thing.
But tonight I was here representing Briggs Farms, the host of the barbecue portion of the evening. I’d tried to convince her to back out, assuring her that everyone would understand considering the extenuating circumstances, but she wasn’t hearing it. She insisted that I not only come but that I “be nice” to everyone.
“You tell them they’re in our prayers.”
“I will.” I nodded.
As the sheriff’s wife moved away to find a spot on the grass, I rechecked my phone. I was only obligated to be here another twenty minutes, and then I could get the hell out of here.
“Sawyer Briggs.”
I turned to see that Edith Scoggs was rolling up to me in her motorized scooter. When it came to a stop, she waved her finger at me. “You missed your fitting, young man.”
“I’m sorry. My dad ha—”
“Oh, I know.” She waved her wrinkled hand. “I was just giving you a hard time. How is your daddy doin’?”
“He’s good.”
“And what about your mama? How’s she doin’?”
“She’s hangin’ in there.”
I really should have just worn a shirt or one of those sandwich signs that read he’s good on one side and she’s hanging in there on the other.
“Good, that’s good to hear. You let me know when you want to reschedule. I’m gonna go get me a good seat. I just love that Prince Humperdinck.” She winked as she drove away.
I was going to have to go in and see her this week. Harmony was still planning on proceeding with her wedding no matter what. If my dad was still in the hospital, she said she was just going to have the ceremony in his room. I didn’t think she was being serious, but she’d explained that since she’d asked Hudson to marry her when he was in the hospital, it was fitting. I didn’t get the rush, but I’d learned a long time ago not to argue with my baby sister when she got her mind set on something.
A loud whirring sound caught my attention, and I looked up and saw that Edith’s scooter was caught in a blanket that she’d driven over. She was revving the engine, which made the wheels turn and the material get wrapped even farther in the mechanism. Leaving my post, I crossed the lawn to where she was stuck.
“Stop,” I instructed as I reached the scooter.
“Well,” she revved again, “it’s not going.”
“I know.” Reaching down I lifted the wheel and after several tugs was able to free the blanket.
When it was untangled, she thanked me and went on her way. As I turned to head back to the stand and finish out the time I needed to be here, I was stopped in my tracks. I did a double take.
Delilah was here. All evening, I’d kept thinking I was going to catch a glimpse of her, but I hadn’t, until now. She looked so beautiful, so sexy, so stunning that it made my entire body throb with need. Her long blonde hair was in a loose braid that hung over her right shoulder. She had on a tank top and cutoff shorts that hugged her generous curves and made me want to strip her out of them. But the real cherry on top was her cowboy boots. There was something so damn sexy about a girl in boots and Delilah in boots was off the charts hot.
I hadn’t seen her since I dropped her off at her house last week and fuck, I’d missed her. The past six days had been a blur. I’d either been working or at the hospital, and the entire time I just kept hearing her sweet voice saying that she loved me.
She loved me, and I loved her.
That should’ve been enough. I would do anything if that could be enough for us. I’d even convinced myself several times since she’d told me how she felt that it was enough. But then I’d visit my dad, see him lying in the hospital bed and remember that’s exactly where the other three women I’d loved ended up. I couldn’t live with myself if anything I did caused Delilah to suffer the same fate.
Yes, the circumstances with those three women were all different. None of them were related in any way. But, somehow, that made it worse because in all three of those situations there was only one common denominator…me.
Still, every cell in my body was screaming that this was different, that she was different, and I should take a chance and roll the dice. And if it were my safety, my life on the line
, I would in a heartbeat. But it wasn’t. I was never the one that ended up in a hospital bed, broken and hurt. I’d walked away from all three of those relationships, the ones I’d loved hadn’t.
As I watched Delilah smiling, laughing, and talking with Jade, it was killing me not to go to her and tell her how I felt about her. I wanted to say that I saw her, I saw how hard she worked, how she would do anything for the people that she cared about, how talented, kind, smart and funny she was. To tell her that I loved her, that she was the light in my darkness, that loving her was the best part of me. To tell her that I would do anything to be the man that deserved her love. But how could I do that if there was even the slightest chance that her fate would be the same as Laura’s, Erika’s, or Kenna’s?
I couldn’t. It was as straightforward and tragic as that.
I felt a hand on my arm, and I turned to see Mrs. Higgins standing beside me, staring up at me with a knowing look. “Just go talk to her.”
For a second, I thought about playing dumb, but I knew there was no point. Mrs. Higgins wouldn’t have made a statement like that if she didn’t already know.
“I can’t.” I walked to the stand to start cleaning and packing up.
“Why not?” She stepped in between me and the cooler that I was about to put the leftover hot dogs in.
“I just can’t.”
“Why not?” she repeated, not moving from in front of the ice chest.
“I need to get back to the hospital.” It was technically true. I’d told my mom I would stop by after I was done and bring her a change of clothes.
“Then you should probably start talking,” she stated firmly.
I should have known better than to try and use a half-assed excuse with this woman. She’d been a high school teacher for twenty-seven years. Her nickname had been The Bloodhound because she could sniff out bullshit when students tried to play her.
“I just…I can’t…she deserves…” I paused, searching for the words to explain. I hadn’t ever spoken my feelings out loud and doing it now was like scraping my heart over a grater like it was a block of cheese. “I’ve been down that road, several times, and things haven’t ended well. I can’t risk it. I can’t risk her.”
Either my explanation was sufficient, or she saw the pain in my eyes, because she stepped to the side so I could continue my clean up. I thought it was strange that she’d dropped it, but as I bent down to open the lid, I realized she hadn’t.
“Does this have anything to do with Laura McKinney?”
Her question caused me to freeze in place. I hadn’t heard anyone say that name in twenty years. I set the hot dogs down and straightened back up, not sure how to answer that question.
When she saw the expression on my face, she had her answer and nodded. “I thought so.” Then, she reached into her purse and pulled out a wrinkled envelope with my name written on it. “Laura gave this to me before she left town. She told me that once you were an adult if you ever asked about her or brought up the incident, to give this to you.”
“What does it say?” I stared at it, still frozen in place.
“I don’t know. I never opened it.”
My eyes lifted to hers. “Why didn’t you give it to me sooner?”
“You never asked about her or brought up what happened.”
“Why did she give it to you?” There was accusation in my tone.
She shrugged. “Probably because she knew that we were close and I cared about you. She knew she could trust me to do what was best for you.”
I blinked as my gaze dropped back down at her hand that was still outstretched while my arms remained by my sides. I wanted to take it, to read it, but for some reason, I couldn’t bring myself to.
When it became clear that I was making no move to retrieve it, she set it beside the hot dogs. “I’ll leave it here.” Then she took one of my hands between hers and looked up into my eyes, her own shining with care and sincerity. “Sometimes things don’t end well. That’s life. What happened to Laura wasn’t your fault; just like I’m sure the other times that things didn’t end well weren’t your fault either. You need to forgive yourself. You need to stop punishing yourself.
“And as far as the risks, again, that’s life. I know that’s scary, but what’s the alternative? What kind of life will you have if you stay behind the walls you’ve built? You said that you couldn’t risk her, I think that she should have a say in that decision. Don’t you? Delilah is a strong, smart, capable woman. What makes you think you have the right to say what she does or doesn’t deserve?”
With that, she patted my hand, turned and walked out of the booth, leaving me alone with the questions that she’d asked. I stared at the black letters of my name written in cursive across the envelope.
Had I been punishing myself?
And was I the one that was scared to take the risk?
I’d honestly believed that I was protecting her, but was I?
Did I have the right to make that decision for her?
“Hey, man, glad I caught you before you left.” Hayden’s voice cut through my haze, and I looked up to see him standing on the other side of the table. “I needed to go over a few things on the Talbot Street job.”
Before turning my attention to Hayden, I grabbed the envelope and stuck it in my back pocket. I had no idea what it said, or what the answers were to the questions that Mrs. Higgins had posed, but for the first time in a long time, I had hope.
Chapter 26
Delilah
“Don’t walk ten miles into the woods and expect to get out in five.”
~ Grant Turner
“See,” Jade tugged at my arm. “I told you that this would be fun! Aren’t you glad you came?”
No. I was not glad I came. This was not fun. Unless you considered torture fun because that was what this was.
“Yeah!” I smiled, hoping that she didn’t see the truth behind it.
Sawyer was here.
I could count on one hand how many times he’d been to Movies in the Park in my entire life. Four times. That’s how many. I thought for sure there would be no way that I’d have a Sawyer sighting tonight. I mean, his dad was still in the hospital. But there he stood, on the other side of the grass in the barbecue area at the main booth that overlooked the lawn of the town square.
Wishing Well was a small town, so obviously, I knew that I was going to have to get used to seeing him around. But, I wasn’t there yet. I was doing my best not to look at him, but I guess my best wasn’t good enough. Every five seconds or so my eyes would drift to where he stood across the grass in the picnic area.
He stood with his arms crossed, looking like a king holding court as his subjects came to speak to him. My heart squeezed as I watched him interact with person after person. Even from this distance, I could see that he looked tired. I wanted to go to him, to ask if he was okay, to tell him that I was here if he needed anything. But I knew that was a bad idea. Before I could even consider trying to be his friend again, I had to get over my feelings for him. As much as I cared about him, I had to take care of myself first.
Logically, I knew that the fat lady had sung, that’s all folks, it was game over with Sawyer. Emotionally, I was still pining away for him like he was the Romeo to my Juliet. And physically, I ached for him like an arthritic ninety-year-old.
I was a hot mess.
“Oh!” My friend snapped her fingers. “I almost forgot, I asked about my mom about your donation.”
Jade’s mom Nora was on the committee that distributed the money raised, so I’d asked her to see if she knew anything.
“What did she say?” Mrs. Porter had been oddly resistant to clearing up the situation.
“She said that they’d received an anonymous donation the morning after the fundraiser covering your donation.”
“The day after?”
“Yep.” She nodded.
“Anonymous donation?”
“Yeah.” Jade smiled brightly. “So I’m thi
nking shopping spree.”
Before I had a chance to process that information, Brady Calhoun sat between Jade and me.
“Hey, there Delilah,” Brady Calhoun sing-songed as threw his arm around me, winked, and tipped his hat. “What’s it like in Wishing Well, Texas?”
Ever since the Plain White T’s came out with the song that included my name in the title over a decade ago, people have been singing it to me, sometimes changing the words like Brady and sometimes reciting the lyrics verbatim. It had grown old after about…oh…the first month. Now, it was just funny to me that people actually thought they were being original. Even people, like Brady, who’d referenced it a hundred times before. They acted like we were sharing some inside joke.
“Hi, Brady.” I removed his arm from my shoulders and scooted away.
At my dismissal, he turned to Jade and began to sing, “Heeey, Jade.”
“No.” She held up her hand stopping his rendition of the Beatles classic “Hey Jude.” “Just no.”
I laughed.
Jade O’Sullivan was just…cool. She always had been. Not to mention stunningly beautiful with her long raven hair, bright green eyes, and olive skin.
I’d known her since we were five years old. She moved from Ireland with her family when she was four, and she’d still had an Irish lilt when she started school. We’d been table buddies in Mrs. Lindy’s kindergarten class, and I remember that, even then, the boys in class had tried to get her attention by any means necessary.
One day, Tucker Timmons wrote her name with Elmer’s glue on his arm, let it dry, and then peeled it off and set it on our desk in hopes to impress her. Even at five, she’d handled the unwanted attention with grace and poise. She’d thanked him and asked if he could tape it to a piece of paper so she could keep it. She’d been so convincing, I’d thought that his stunt might’ve worked and she wasn’t as grossed out by it as I was. Then when he walked away she turned to me and made a gagging face and we’d dissolved into stitches.
Seducing Sawyer (Wishing Well, Texas Book 7) Page 16
