by T. L. Keary
The ceiling stretches high, at least twenty feet. Gigantic windows face east, opening to a beautiful view of the mountains.
A huge fireplace dominates the central wall and a large mantle wraps around it. An oversized leather sectional takes up the central space of the room, donned with an assortment of pillows.
“You hired an interior decorator,” I say, more as a statement than a question.
Ezra huffs a laugh. “Of course I did. You know me, I can hardly match my own socks.”
“Well then, it’s a good thing you’ve got me around now,” I say, raising an eyebrow and leaning forward to kiss him.
“It is a good thing,” he says in a low growl, and I revel in the heat I see in his eyes.
But we’re taking this slow. So I let him go back to his work.
He tosses something in the pot and then removes his apron.
“Come on,” he says, reaching for my hand. “I’ll show you the rest of the house.”
I laugh in delight, and let him pull me down the hall.
He’s truly built this for a family. There’s a mudroom, a massive laundry room. A three-car garage, big enough for his truck, a minivan, and a handful of outdoor toys. On the upper floor he shows me three bedrooms and a loft with room for toys and games.
He’s made this too easy. We’ll be settled in and happy in no time at all.
And he shows me his bedroom. It’s big, and already boasts a king-sized bed. I’d prefer a queen. No need for him to be so far away during the night. There’s a master bathroom attached, with a big shower and a huge tub, made just for two. And a closet with plenty of room to add in all my clothes.
“Ez, this place really is a dream,” I say as we slowly walk back down the hall to the kitchen. “You did such an amazing job. I couldn’t imagine a more perfect home.”
“Well, it’s a lot better with you in it.” When we step into the kitchen, he puts his hands on my hips and pushes me back against the island, pinning me there. His hands come up to my jaw and he tips my head back so he can kiss me.
I rest my hands on his chest, and tell myself that it’s okay that I haven’t seen it bare yet. He’s kissing me like he loves me, and that’s enough.
I hear the front door open, and I startle as someone walks into the kitchen.
Glaring at me like I’m the wicked witch of the west, is Davis.
“Sorry, Ez, I didn’t realize you had company,” he says as he sets a few folders down on the counter.
“It’s okay,” Ezra says with an embarrassed but happy smile. He steps away and returns to the stove. He stirs something that smells divine. “Since you’re here, you might as well stay for dinner.”
I’ve practiced my poker face for years, but something in it must slip when I look at Davis. Because he forms this little smile that gets under my skin. “Might as well.”
He locks his eyes on me as he walks around the island, pulls out a stool, and sits.
The hair on the back of my neck stands on end and something writhes in my stomach.
Why is he here?
“You sure you can’t pull the Walker development?” Davis says, sliding the folders back toward himself and opening them. “There’s still a sliver of time for you to jump in. We don’t break ground until Friday, so I haven’t paid any money to anyone yet.”
Ezra turns and I help him put together the salad. “I’m sorry, I’ve already got more on my plate than my crews can keep up with. You’re just going to have to stick with Jude.”
Davis makes a noise of annoyance. “That guys a jacka—”
“I know he’s a jackass,” Ezra says with a smile. “Which is why he’s available. But he is good.”
“I know he is,” Davis says with a sigh. “I’ve sold three of his houses. They all sell in the first week, for asking price or above. He’s just an arrogant prick.”
“I know,” Ezra says as he takes the food out of the oven and sets it down on a hot pad. “I’m sorry.”
I find dishes in the cupboard, and even these are perfect and match everything. The decorator did a fantastic job. I set the table.
“I know you are,” Davis says, and from his tone I can tell he means it. It’s obvious Davis cares about his brother. “And I’m glad you’re so busy. You did Dad proud.”
“What is this, nostalgia hour?” Ezra says with a chuckle as he carries the food to the table. He nods his chin to the salad and Davis grabs it and brings it over.
It would be cute, watching them interact and tease each other. If Davis weren’t looking like such a problem.
Sawyer is messing things up, even with her out of the picture. Not everyone will forgive what she did as easily as Ezra.
We dish up and dig in. I have to admit, it’s not the most amazing meal I’ve ever eaten. But soon Ezra won’t have to worry about cooking. I can take that over.
“So, Sawyer,” Davis says, placing just a little too much emphasis on my name. “Are you enjoying your time back home?”
I swallow my bite and wipe my mouth on my napkin. “I have to admit, it’s not all sunshine and roses,” I say, meeting his eyes, looking casual. “There are still a few hard feelings, despite my efforts to smooth things over. But for the most part, it’s been good.”
“It was one person,” Ezra says, looking at me with serious eyes. “Don’t let Melody get to you.”
I wished Sawyer only had one day of food left instead of ten when Ezra and I ran into Melody Pandera in town. When she’d seen Ezra and I holding hands, she wasn’t casual or hesitant. She let me know what she thought about me coming back into town and immediately going after my ex again.
“I know,” I say, making my voice sound like I know I’m being silly. “I’ve just thought about it a lot.”
Ezra reaches over and grabs my hand and presses a kiss to the back of my knuckles. “You shouldn’t. You’re here, we’re happy, that’s all that matters.”
I offer an appreciative smile, and I could just cry. Because he’s just as perfect as I always thought he was.
But I look back across the table, and find Davis looking at me with dark eyes that tell me he isn’t buying my shit.
It’s awkward as we eat, and for the most part I stay quiet. Ezra and Davis talk about their normal life. Work. Their parents. They’re having a barbeque next weekend, and Ezra immediately invites me to it.
The look on Davis’ face says he’s not so sure I’ll be welcomed.
I’m not so sure I will go. As far as I know, Sawyer spent quite a lot of time at the Knox home. She was fairly close with Ezra’s parents. I’m getting more and more confident in my acting skills and have the benefit of thirteen years of change and growing up.
But still.
Every interaction is a bit of a risk.
I’m just about finished with my dinner when Ezra’s phone goes off, vibrating loudly against the chair. He pulls it out of his pocket and from the look on his face, I know it’s not good.
“This is that client who’s been evading payment for two months,” he says as he stands. “I’ve got to take this.”
Without another word, he strides off, heading for his office down the hall.
Leaving me alone with Davis.
For thirteen seconds, we sit in awkward silence.
“So what’s the plan?” Davis asks.
My eyes slide over to him and for a moment, my heart drops into my stomach. I look either direction, finding the closest exit.
How the hell does he know?
“You just rent a place temporarily until you get in deep enough again and move in with Ezra? You just hope that everyone forgets what happened and life moves on without a hitch?” His eyes bore into me, and I swear, he can read right down to my soul.
“You’re going to have to get over this, Davis,” I say, forcing my voice to stay calm. “I was eighteen years old then. Yes, I made a mistake…thirteen years ago. Ezra and I aren’t kids anymore. We’re happy now. Things are going great. He’s not dwelling in the past, so wh
y are you?”
I’m not backing down without a fight. I’ve worked too hard for this, given up too much for him to shake me.
“There’s just something that doesn’t sit right with me about you, Sawyer James,” he says. Never once does he look away. His gaze is the most intense of anyone I know. “Things are just too fast and too easy here. I can’t say I’m surprised Ezra jumped back in so quick. He’s given up a lot of good women over the years because they just weren’t you. But you are what doesn’t make any sense.”
“But here’s the thing, Davis,” I say as I grab my glass and take a sip of my water. “I’m an adult. I’m the master of my actions. And I don’t have to explain myself to you.”
I set the glass down and stab my fork into the last of my salad. A crouton snaps and I stab it again, shoving it into my mouth. I hold Davis’ gaze as I chew it deliberately, hoping he gets the message that I’m not afraid of him.
His eyes drop to my mouth and he watches me chew for just a few moments. Slowly, his eyes rise up to mine, and even more slowly, a smile begins to grow on his face.
“Do you remember that time you came to our house for dinner, way back when?” he says. He rests his elbow on the table and props his chin in two of his fingers. “Mom was so excited because Ezra finally brought you over so she could meet you. He’d explained everything carefully, and mom had stressed so bad about making dinner just right. But about an hour after we finished eating, you ran for the bathroom and couldn’t leave for about thirty minutes.”
Something cold drops in my stomach, and it isn’t the food I just swallowed. The hairs on my arms stand on end.
“Mom felt so bad that she didn’t think to check the seasonings to be sure there was no gluten in them,” Davis says, and I don’t like that little devilish look in his eyes. “She apologized through the door all night long.”
I force myself not to look toward the salad bowl.
“Ezra had told her about your Celiac Disease. And you remember how careful he was about taking you out to eat, because back then, everything had gluten in it.” His voice drops just a little at a time and now goosebumps flash over my arms. “But it’s been thirteen years since he’s had to worry about that. He’s a little less careful. Since when could you eat all those croutons without getting sick, Sawyer?”
I resist letting my eyes drop to my plate.
Shit, shit, shit.
I know I have to have eaten at least ten of them throughout our meal.
“You know people grow out of allergies all the time, right?” I say, trying to make my tone sound bored, like he’s the idiot here.
“Is that so?” he asks, leaning his head on his hand. “I’ve only ever heard that gluten sensitivity grows worse with age.”
“And since when did you become the expert on a disease I’ve dealt with for this long?” I probe. I fold my arms on the table, leaning in farther.
I won’t back down.
I won’t.
I’ll find a way to fix this.
He just smiles, sly and knowing.
Ezra walks in then, slipping his phone into his back pocket.
“He’s got my money, he’s meeting me at the bank tomorrow,” he says triumphantly, all smiles as he sits back down, stabbing his fork into the roasted potatoes.
“That’s great,” I say with a supportive smile.
“Hey, Ez,” Davis says, turning his intense gaze from me to his brother. “Did you know that after all these years, Sawyer has grown out of her gluten allergy?”
My heart rate picks up and my palms start sweating. A look of panic crosses Ezra’s face as he looks around at all the food he prepared.
“What did I miss?” he asks, his eyes searching everything.
“The croutons,” Davis says. I will make him pay for that smile he’s wearing. “But lucky for us all, she says she’s grown out of it.”
“More like gained more tolerance for it,” I say, coming up with an explanation that I hope will hold up. “I still try to avoid it, but with some careful controlled experiments, I’ve found I can handle it more than I used to.”
“I’m so sorry, Sawyer,” Ezra says, and I can tell he means it with everything in him. “But seriously, that’s great. I can’t even remember how many times you got sick because someone didn’t check the ingredient list.”
I just smile, nodding my head, trying to sort through all of the problems this could cause.
Once more, I meet Davis’ eyes, and he just smiles, the look in his eyes a little triumphant.
Davis is going to be a problem. He’s going to get in my way. He’s going to put his nose where it doesn’t belong.
Davis Knox is a problem I’m going to have to deal with.
Chapter Fourteen
Sawyer
I don’t know if the imposter is just getting lazy, or if she’s simply getting comfortable.
She cut me off at dinner the other day. I thought I heard the sound of the door opening, but I’m not sure. And then I went what I think was a couple of days without seeing a single thing.
I’m getting so bored I could kill myself.
I don’t want to look forward to the live feeds, but I do, simply for something to focus on other than my impending starvation.
And then it popped on. I got to witness a very sweet stay-in date. Dinner, talking. A foot rub. And then cleaning up. And then making out. And then sex.
Shit.
She’s escalating things.
I take comfort in the fact that Ezra makes a comment after a while about how I feel different than the last time. She makes a comment about a woman’s body constantly changing and growing and evolving.
“You lying bitch,” I cursed at the screen.
“We should go on a trip this weekend,” the imposter Sawyer suggests when Ezra pulls his pants back on and walks into the kitchen for a drink. “Just me and you. It’d be romantic.”
I see him lean in the doorway, and I’m reminded why I was attracted to Ezra in the first place. The muscles stretching across his back, wrapping around his shoulders are something to behold. Ezra was the hottest guy in school, and he didn’t even seem real because he was also so nice and sweet.
“I’ve been meaning to go out camping,” he says, looking into the bedroom where I can just see her laying on the bed. She’s on her stomach, swinging her feet back and forth in the air. “How about we head up into the mountains?”
“That actually sounds perfect,” she says, and I can just imagine the big smile plastered on her face.
Oh Ezra, you should know better. There are tiny signs here and there.
I’m not one for camping. I’d rather explore some new city and crash in a comfortable bed. Camping would never be my first choice over another kind of adventure.
And so the great planning began. Ezra already has all the gear. He has the truck. The imposter me says she’ll cover all the food and pick the spot.
Ezra is even taking Friday off so they can leave Friday morning. They’ll come back early Monday morning.
They’ll be in the mountains, alone. That can’t be good.
There’s also no reception in the mountains.
Looks like I’m in for a boring weekend.
Chapter Fifteen
This is bad.
Early in the morning on Friday, I power Sawyer’s cell phone back on. Once again, it’s flooded with notifications. Texts from friends. Work stuff. Angry clients who demand to know why she isn’t responding to them.
Two of her friends have tried calling five times.
And there are twelve missed calls from Davis Knox.
He left no voicemails. But he’s called twice a day since I last powered this phone on.
He can’t know. Sawyer knew nothing when she called Davis. She couldn’t have told him anything to make him so suspicious.
But I know he thinks something is going on. I see it in his eyes. It’s in every word he says to me.
I weigh my options.
I can�
�t confront him, can’t ask him outright.
I could somehow pressure Sawyer into telling me the truth, if there was anything else she said to Davis.
I could take Davis out of the picture. But I meant what I said to Sawyer. I’m not a murderer. At least not yet. I don’t want to get my hands dirty.
But the reality is that Davis can’t prove anything. He has nothing on me to show for sure that I’m not the real Sawyer James.
He could plant doubt in Ezra’s ear, though. He could cause trouble.
So I just need to get into Ezra’s head before Davis can plant seeds of doubt.
I just need to lean on Ezra’s love for me, and make it outweigh that for his brother. So if Davis causes a problem, Ezra will believe me over him.
Which could possibly take more than a weekend.
A few things are going to go wrong up in the mountains.
But I’ll be prepared. I’ll take care of Ezra.
When he picks me up in his truck a few hours later, I’ve got it all figured out.
Chapter Sixteen
Sawyer
I’ve formed a routine. When I wake up, I drink half a bottle of water. I eat half a can of food. I drop to the floor and do five reps of sit-ups and push-ups. I have this kickboxing routine I’ve been doing.
Before I take a nap, which I do every day because I get so bored, I do lunges and squats. I jog in place. And finish my can of food.
I’m trying very hard not to completely melt down into panic. I only have a week of food left.
Starvation isn’t long off.
I’ve just finished my squats and am in the middle of my daily jog when an agonizing sound rips through the container.
Metal against metal, it screeches loud and angry and sharp.
And then the whole container is shoved forward, throwing me straight off my feet. I land, hard, my elbow hitting the edge of the cot as I go down, my tailbone barking in pain.
Another great scream of metal echoes off the walls, sending vibrations throughout the entire prison box.
