My chest expands with warmth that quickly cools when I consider what she told him about me. Does he think I’m crazy? Some kind of hermit like the girl at the bar did?
“If I tell him he’ll feel deceived. I can’t do that. But I can leave and he’ll never have to know who I really am.”
“You actually think that’ll work? That you’ll walk away and he’ll let you go?”
I shrug. “Yes. I do. He might miss me for a day or two but some willing female will take my place.” My stomach wrenches as my words bring forth a nausea I can’t fight.
“Or . . . you tell him who you really are, explain—”
“The truth isn’t an option now. He told me a little about his nightmares, about how he was let down by someone he trusted. If he knew I lied about who I am it would only hurt him.”
“Shit . . .” He cups his head into his hands, rubbing circles on his temples. “That’s true.”
“I allowed myself to get off track with Aden and that was a mistake. All I’m here to do is pack up my sister’s stuff, get a glimpse into her world, and then leave here with everyone thinking she’s living her life to the fullest to die a happy old woman rather than being robbed of her life.” Tears spring to my eyes. “She asked me for a favor, I couldn’t say no.”
His stern expression softens with sympathy. “This was not her brightest idea.”
“Tell me about it.” I search my brain for the umpteenth time trying to figure a way out of this that doesn’t include hurting Aden and come up with nothing.
“I’d think it were harmless if my nephew’s feelings weren’t involved, but they are and I can’t sit by while you toy with him.”
“I’m not toying with him. I . . .” I care about him. “I don’t know what to do.”
“Finish what you came to do.” He pushes to stand and stares down at me. The weight of his judgment has me studying the floor. “Then leave and I promise, as fucked up as this is, I’ll keep your secret. I’ll do that for Celia and for Aden.”
“Cal—”
“But you can’t ever come back here, understand? Once you leave, you make a clean cut and let Aden move on with his life.”
His words stab me in the heart.
“Promise me, Sawyer.”
“Okay, I’ll disappear.”
“And when Celia’s . . . condition . . . finally takes her . . .” He clears his throat and I look up to find emotion shining in his eyes. “I’ll let Aden know and that’ll be the end of you two.”
I nod, unable to form words because everything he’s saying slices through my chest, but I know he’s right. Aden will mourn her loss, and it’ll be like none of this ever happened. He’ll go on with his life thinking I was nothing more than a summer fling that ended before it even got started.
A single tear slides down my cheek.
“I’m sorry it has to be this way, but I think you’re right, his mind may be too fragile to handle the truth and this is the only way it can be.”
“Either way, I lose him forever.”
His gaze swings out to the ocean, gray clouds beginning to form on the horizon. “Enjoy the rest of your stay.”
“Cal, wait.” I stand and cross to him, brushing away my tears. “How did you know I wasn’t Celia?”
He smiles sadly. “I saw the fear in your eyes the second I walked on that boat. Your sister? She’s never been afraid of anything. Not even death.”
And with that, he’s gone.
I stay rooted in place as one by one tears slide down my cheeks.
He’s right. I’m a pathetic replacement for Celia. Whatever Aden feels for me isn’t actually because of who I am but rather who he thinks I am. Someone who swims naked in the ocean at night and dives off a kayak to swim with sharks, the person I’m pushing myself to be. If I were able to truly be myself, he’d lose interest in a heartbeat.
Celia and Aden make a fantastic couple, they’re cut from the same Technicolor cloth.
Sawyer and Aden don’t make any sense. He’d get frustrated with my obsessions and I’d get irritated by his casualness toward just about everything.
Whatever future I could map out for us in my head is nothing but a fantasy, and a charade I could never keep up.
I dry my tears and straighten my shoulders as I digest Cal’s words.
I have only a couple days left with Aden, so I’ll take them and make every second count.
TWENTY-ONE
ADEN
The minutes that I’m not with Celia pass at an irritating pace. I hold back from dropping all my responsibilities and not breaking the speed limit to get to the cottages. I even considered not taking a shower, which is messed up.
When in the hell did this woman manage to crawl under my skin? I forget who I am when we’re together, and as fucked as that is I feel better than I’ve felt in a really long time. I can’t even think about her without grinning. Maybe it was spending so much time together, my body got used to having her within reach. Or maybe it was the awkward way she left, chased away by Cal’s disapproving stare. Whatever it is, being without her leaves me twitchy and uneasy. I’ve spent hours in a ditch staring down the scope of my rifle and that wasn’t as maddening as the distance between us.
Which is why I’m hauling ass through the cabin of the boat, grabbing my keys and sunglasses to get to the cottages to see her. It’s only when I’m jumping from the back of the boat to the dock that I catch movement from Jenkins’s sailboat.
My good mood dissolves instantly. The old man’s only been gone four days and the vultures have already descended. Not on my watch. With light steps I creep to the boat and manage to slide aboard without being noticed. There’s a shuffling inside the cabin.
I stand in the doorway and brace. “Drop whatever you have and come out with your hands up, asshole.” My muscles jump and prep for a fight.
A slender body pushes out from the shadows. A woman, her eyes wide.
I try to relax my stance to keep from scaring her any more than I already have. “Who are you?”
“I’m Becky Muller, Billy’s daughter.”
“Oh shit.” I step back. “I’m sorry, I didn’t know.”
“Who are you?”
I reach out my hand. “Aden Colt. I was friends with your dad.”
“You must be the man the hospital said he was with.” I nod and she shakes my hand. “It’s nice to meet you.”
“I’m sorry about your dad. If it makes you feel better, he talked about you all the time.”
She blows out a breath and frowns. “I wish I could say that helps, but I haven’t spoken to my dad in over ten years. My brother said I should just let all this stuff go, but I had to come.”
I knew his relationship with his kids was strained. He was a washed-up sailor with a drinking problem, a bad temper, and a boatload of regrets, and after losing the love of his life he gave up trying. It didn’t take a genius to realize that his stories about his children were always those from their childhood.
“Do you need some help?” I nod to a small box that has a few of his things in it. A watch, an old photo of his wife, and a couple records.
She picks up the box and clutches it to her stomach. “No, I got it.” She turns back to study the humble living quarters of the man who loved her but didn’t have the balls to get his shit together and missed out on half her life. “Actually . . . I don’t know what to do with his boat. Could you help me sell it?”
Sell his boat? This thing meant more to him than anything, which might be the reason Becky looks like it’ll bite. The resentment makes sense, but damn, it’s fucking sad. “Sure.”
“Oh, and his ashes. He didn’t have a will, but I think he’d want to be spread out over his favorite fishing spot? I don’t know where that is, and I have to get back to my family in Denver.”
“I’ll take care of it.”
She smiles sadly. “Thank you.”
“Please, let me take that.” I scoop the box from her arms.
“You
don’t have—”
“I know, but your dad would’ve given me shit for not being a gentleman to his little girl.”
She frowns, and ducks back inside to grab a few more things. His Padres hat, his antique copper maritime telescope, and his tackle box that’s faded and covered in close to fifty years of dirt, grime, and fish blood.
When she’s finally ready to go, the box is almost overflowing with things. Staring at it, all I can think is that life is too short to live with these kinds of regrets.
She hands me Jenkins’s fishing pole. “Here, I was going to give this to my son, but I can’t fly with it. I think you should have it.”
“No, I can’t take that.” I grab the pole and take in the torn grip and rusted reel. “It was his favorite. Your son should have it.”
“It’s too much trouble.”
“I’ll send it to you. Really, it’s no big deal. Jenkins would haunt me forever if he knew I was using his lucky pole.”
She smiles, but it’s shaky. “Thank you.”
About an hour later I’m loading the back of a rental car with two small boxes of Jenkins’s stuff. That’s it. All he’ll have to be passed along to those who never got the chance to know what kind of man he was. Two boxes. And as much as the items they contain will shed light on the subtle things about Jenkins, they’ll never tell stories of his love for his wife, his love of country, and the demons that held him back from being the kind of father and grandfather I know he could’ve been.
Just like the children of the men I buried.
Watching their wives at the graveside, clutching a folded flag to their chest as their sons and daughters clung to them. So young, and they’ll never know the kind of men their fathers were. That they sacrificed their lives for someone so undeserving, someone who is right on track to make the same mistakes Jenkins did.
I’ve pushed away my family.
Alienated myself from the world.
I hole up in my boat just like Jenks did.
At this rate I’ll die alone like he did too.
The sound of Becky’s car door pulls me from my thoughts.
She hands me a business card with her name on it. “I’ll call the morgue and have them contact you when his ashes are ready.” Her eyes give away a hint of sadness, the truth that she’s struggling more with her father’s death than she’s letting on. “If you could text me your number.”
“Sure.” I pull out my phone and hit the text icon when I notice I have a new text from Celia.
I’m all packed up and missing you.
My pulse quickens and I quickly fire off a text to Becky.
Her phone pings. “Thanks.”
I nod and step back. “I’ll let you know what the ship brokers say about selling his boat.”
“I appreciate that.”
After a few silent seconds she nods and gets in her car and I turn to my truck.
Life can change so quickly and in such abrupt ways that we never get a chance to see it until it’s over.
I’ve let one too many suns set on my feelings for Celia without telling her what she means to me, how she calms the war in my soul and silences the screams.
I can tell she’s hesitant to rush into something.
But I live with enough regret as it is.
Last thing I want is to regret never trying.
SAWYER
It’s been almost an hour since I sent Aden the text about missing him and because he hasn’t texted back I’m second-guessing the logic behind sending such an honest message. I should’ve thrown some kind of sexual joke in there to lighten the seriousness, maybe? My worst fear is that he’s staring at his phone wondering how to respond appropriately.
This whole thing between us went from casual to something so much more really quickly. Too quickly.
Statistics have proven that the best relationships develop out of great friendships. That patience in getting to know one another is more lasting. Does that mean this urgency and intensity I’m feeling is nothing more than misplaced lust?
Mark and I were friends first. We took things slow. And I never felt even a fraction of what I feel when I’m with Aden, hell, I don’t even have to be around him to feel the pull toward him.
What does it all mean?
I dial my sister’s phone number for what seems like the hundredth time today and after two rings it goes to voicemail.
“. . . volcano diving in Hawaii and it’s too hot for—”
I hit END and dial my mom’s cell.
“Hey, Sawyer.” She sounds tired.
“Mom, I’ve been trying Cece’s cell all day but it goes straight to voicemail.”
My mom sighs.
“Is everything okay?”
“Yeah, sorry. We had a doctor’s appointment.” There’s the sound of a door shutting in the background and I imagine my mom tucking away somewhere so she won’t be overheard. “It’s her vision. The tumor is growing rapidly; she’s only able to see shadows.”
I swallow hard and fight the urge to cry; after all, this isn’t something I didn’t know on some level was coming, but to think she can no longer see makes everything so . . . real.
“What . . .” I clear my throat. “What does that mean?”
“It means that the pressure on her brain stem is increasing. They can’t tell us how long she has because there’s no telling what the pressure could affect.”
“Is she in pain?”
“No, honey, she’s lost a little of her spunk, but that’s about it.” She sniffs followed by the sound of something rubbing against the phone, as if she’s dabbing a tissue on her cheeks. “When will you be home?”
“The movers come day after tomorrow, first thing. My flight leaves at seven o’clock in the morning.” Everything behind my ribs hurts.
“Okay, that’ll be good.”
“Can I talk to her?”
“Sure. Hang on.” There’s more shuffling in the background and the opening and closing of doors. “Cece, honey, Sawyer’s on the phone.”
More muffled sounds like sheets rustling. “Mom, could you grab me a glass of water? Hello?”
“Hey, Cece.”
“Finally a little privacy. Mom’s been hovering.”
I chuckle at the irritation in her voice. “Mom told me about your vision.”
“It’s not that bad. I can still watch TV. How about you? Have you ruined my reputation over there yet?”
I smother the urge to cry at my sister’s blatant diversion and slip down onto the couch. “Not yet. Oh, I met Cal.”
Silence, and then, “Oh shit.”
“You told him you were sick. He knew I wasn’t you.”
“Eh, he’s a cool guy, I knew he’d play along. If I told you Cal knew you’d never have agreed to go.”
Play along, sure, but this isn’t a game anymore. I chew my bottom lip and fight off the urge to cry. Again.
“Sawyer, what is it?”
“I think, I mean, I don’t know because I’ve never really felt anything like this, but I think I’m in love with Aden.”
There’s not a hint of sound coming through the other end.
Not even breathing.
“Celia, did I lose you?”
“What did you just say?”
“I’ve fallen in love with Aden, but he thinks I’m you and—”
“Tell him the truth, Sawyer, tell him it was my idea and—”
“I can’t.”
“Why not?”
I stare out at the ocean thinking it wasn’t too long ago that I was terrified of the massive sea and now I’m going to miss seeing it every day. “He was lied to about something, he hasn’t totally confided in me, but something tells me this kind of deception would be unforgivable.”
“But how do you know unless you try?”
“Cal made me promise I’d never tell. He knows Aden better than I do.” And even though there’s truth in those words they taste sour in my mouth.
“Tell him, Sawyer. Tell him it’s my
fault, that I put you up to it. If he hears the reasons why he’ll understand. And if he doesn’t then he must not feel the same and you’re better off knowing that now.”
“There’s more.”
“What?”
“Jenkins died.”
“What? How?”
I tell her about how we were out on the boat and everything that happened after, making sure to gloss over the sex marathon.
“Aden’s been through so much I can’t bring myself to be the cause of more pain. Besides, it’s not me he cares about anyway. It’s you.”
“Sawyer—”
“It’s true. If he knew me . . . he wouldn’t like the real me.”
“Shit, I’m sorry. I thought this would be fun for you, that you’d let loose a little and live it up. Leave it to you to find some heavy emotional crap to deal with.”
That makes me laugh. “Right?”
“So what’re you going to do?”
“I’ll enjoy my last couple days here and then come home and get back to the real world.”
“Back to boring, huh?”
“You call it boring, I call it predictable.” Even though going home just means walking from one broken heart to another.
“Do what you need to, but Sawyer?”
“Hm?”
“Remember what this feels like, okay? Don’t forget what it’s like to fall hard for someone and never settle for anything less than this feeling.”
I don’t think it’s possible to ever feel this way about anyone again. “I won’t.”
“Good.”
“Now, no more changing the subject, tell me about your doctor’s appointment.”
She goes on to tell me that all the doctors are kooks trying to scare her into dying when she feels great. I smile at her ability to shrug off the warnings and keep up hope that she’ll fight death as long as her body will allow.
Death sentence be damned, if anyone could be the exception it’d be her.
I catch movement from outside the window. “Oh my God, Cece,” I whisper. “He’s here.”
“Shit! Okay, go. Have fun. Tell him who you are!”
His heavy feet hit the steps.
“I gotta go!”
She laughs hard. “Make him wear a condom—”
Wrecked Page 24
