by Mignon Mykel
I nodded, looking up at him. “We’re good,” I said quietly. And I wasn’t really surprised to realize I meant it. My heart wasn’t racing. My mind wasn’t churning with thoughts.
Everything was a simple calm.
A simple calm that, while I hadn’t forgotten once existed, I had forgotten how it felt.
Looking up at him, I took in everything. The sky had taken on a gray overcast in the late afternoon, making me miss the rich coppery tones in his hair, and even though his eyes still held slight bags under them, the yellow orbs were much more alive now than they had been earlier.
I opened my mouth to say something but thought better of it, closing my lips and folding them in.
“What’s up?”
Of course Sawyer caught it.
I shook my head and offered a small smile. “Nothing.”
Sawyer shifted, getting closer and making my heart start its anxious tumble again, but it wasn’t in panic.
No, it was in an attraction that would do me no good.
His toe tapped my heel and I could tell that his feet bracketed mine; that was how close we were. If he leaned in just the slightest bit… “No, what?” he asked again.
“I was just thinking I hoped you got rest this weekend. You look tired and—” Again, I cut myself off by folding my lips in.
Sawyer reached out now, his hand to my chin and his thumb gently pulling down to release my lips. His eyes watched as I parted my lips but he eventually moved his gaze back to mine. “I look tired and…?”
There was no sense lying to this man. If I was going to be foolish enough to start a thought, I was going to have to finish it. “And it hurts my heart,” I whispered softly, my eyes locked on his.
I watched as he leaned closer, closer, until his lips were near my ear. With his hand on my chin, his feet on either side of mine, and his body so incredibly close, the non-embrace felt intimate.
“When the anxiety churns behind your eyes, it hurts mine.”
He pressed his lips to my temple but before I could process any of it—the words, the touch, the kiss—he was gone, heading back for the garage.
“I’ll see you at breakfast, sweetness.”
Sawyer
Keeping Sydney company over night was no joke. If I thought coming here would allow me to get more rest at night, I was sorely mistaken.
Brandon woke up at three, having an accident in his bed. At the same time, Brody threw up in his bed, so while Sydney cleaned him and his toddler bed up, I took on the task of bed linen changing for a full-size bed that was tucked against the wall. Thank God my sister and brother-in-law were smart and dressed Brandon’s bed with two layers of waterproof and fitted sheets, so I only had to remove a layer and add a clean flat sheet.
I did, however, still have to lean over the bed and over the soiled spot to unhook the far corner, which gave me a slight case of the heebie-jeebies. Like the man that I was though, I completed my task, successfully not touching the wetness and turned to help my nephew get back into bed. Unfortunately, I wasn’t quite prepared for the softly crying three-year-old who stood by his door.
“’sa accident,” he said, tears falling down his cheeks.
I pulled back the fresh sheets and then walked over to my nephew, kneeling in front of the boy. There was no denying this kid was Caleb’s. He was his father’s spitting image, but with the Meadows’ yellow irises.
“I know, bud. It happens.” I reached out to wipe a tear from his cheek. “You ready to get back in bed?”
He sniffled and nodded. With his hand in mine, I walked him to his dresser, helping him out of his soiled night clothes and getting him into clean ones. He was adamant about not putting on a pull-up, which was likely part of the issue tonight, but I was ok with it.
According to Sydney, Brandon had been refusing a nighttime pull-up for the last two weeks and for the most part, accidents weren’t a common occurrence.
He crawled back into the bed that was much too big for him and, after pulling his sheets up and turning on his Scooby Doo night light, I left his room, bed linens and soiled PJs in hand.
Downstairs, I took them straight to the washer, careful to not touch any wet spots. I had everything bundled and held the ball with two fingers and my thumb, tossing it into the washer. When a section of the mass didn’t make it into the washer, I made a face, unsure how I was going to push it in.
Because, go figure, it was the large wet spot that needed pushing in.
With both index fingers, I pushed the mass in, holding my breath as I did so, as well as a shudder at the feel of wet, urine-soaked fabric under my fingers. I quickly stood and turned to wash my hands. Sydney came in with her own mess of fabric and vomit-drenched clothes—the smell alone making me gag—adding them in the extra-large front load washer. She glanced over at me as I had a massive amount of bubbles happening between my hands, making her laugh.
“Thank you for helping,” she said around her enjoyment.
“Thank you for taking on the vomit,” I answered, rinsing my hands and fighting to hold back another gag at the smell that came with her. How she and Caleb dealt with all these bodily fluids was beyond me.
I dried my hands as Sydney started the washer, adding detergents to the top and a capful of those smelly bead things to the drum. “Brody sick?” I asked, leaning against the counter.
After pressing a series of buttons she turned to wash her own hands. I shifted to the side to allow her to the sink.
“He doesn’t have a fever. Probably just ate something that didn’t settle well with his tummy.” She dried her hands and I walked with her back toward the living room where she said, “You sleeping ok in the guest room?”
I really wanted to get back to the guest room to sleep, so I answered, “Yeah. It’s a good bed.”
“Good. We just replaced the mattress and you’re the first to sleep on it. I wasn’t sure if it would be too firm for you.” Sydney settled against the couch and I had the feeling she was getting ready for a conversation, but it was—
I glanced into the kitchen to see the green numbers lit on the double oven. It was three thirty.
Thirty minutes cleaning up wet and dirty kids in the middle of the night?
“I’m going to head back to bed,” I told her before she could say anything else. My sister opened her mouth to do just that but I pointed at her. “Anything you want to say can hold off until the morning.” I was so fucking tired.
I think I slept more at home with cases on my mind. Sleep and little children didn’t seem to mix.
As I neared the stairs though, I remembered something Grace had said, or really, hadn’t said, earlier in the day. “Hey, Syd?” I asked over my shoulder, seeing she was still by the couch.
“Yeah, Soy?” she answered mid-yawn, making me chuckle.
I sucked on my tongue between my teeth, unsure how to ask and just seem like a concerned friend…because that’s what I was, a concerned friend, but Sydney would see so much more in the statement.
She would see what she wanted to see, of course, but what she wanted to see was what I wanted more and more.
“Earlier, Grace said—”
“You like her. Like, more than friends like her.”
“Sydney. Let me talk.”
“You didn’t deny it.” Her face split into a wide grin. “You liked her back when I was casting. And then you two got along so well at the wedding.” I groaned and sat on the stairs, ready to wait out whatever she had to say because there was no stopping her. Not me asking her to stop, not me interrupting her, and damn well not the fact it was way too early to have this conversation. “I know you think distance is a problem and I get it, I do, but Soy, you’d be so good for her. She stops worrying when you’re around.”
Obviously you didn’t notice this morning, I thought, but refrained from saying.
“She doesn’t tell me much, but I see that she’s open with you and I love that for her. And Soy? She’d be really good for you, too.”
“She seemed happy with Jeremy but she’s always been a different person when you’re around.”
“Was Jeremy good to her?” I asked now, needing to know. Grace could say what she wanted but I needed to be sure that it was evident on the outside too. I needed to know that what I saw in him around Grace was just me being a fucking prick and not the truth.
Sydney shrugged a shoulder. “He was good to her, yeah.”
I wanted to ask a slew of questions, ask about his actions and words, but Sydney would likely recognize the interrogation for what it was. “How long ago did they break up?” If I couldn’t know his actions, I wanted to know how long Grace had been without the man.
“She told me a week ago but we all know Grace. She doesn’t always offer that information. The last time I saw him around was probably a month or so ago.”
I nodded, thinking about what I had seen with Jeremy and what I feared where he was concerned. Hopefully I had just been seeing things and overanalyzing his actions. Hell, maybe he’d been exaggerating his actions around me because he was staking his claim. God, I hoped that was the case. I needed to talk to Grace about it though, to be completely sure.
“But what did you want to know?” Sydney asked, bringing us back to the beginning of this conversation. I had to think back to remember what I was asking about.
Oh yeah.
“When Grace was talking about Sweet Grace and when she said it had been too big of a step, she looked at you before saying it.” I paused and thought about Grace’s look again, then asked the question with the answer, I found, I was afraid of. “Did she have a panic attack in the store?”
Please don’t say yes.
Her having slight anxieties, I could deal with. She knew herself best and she knew she could handle the rushing of words and the pounding of her heart. She knew what she could tolerate and she learned how to push past it.
I knew that she could do it. I’d witnessed it a number of times throughout the five years I’d known her.
“Sawyer, I can’t tell you that,” Sydney said, and as much as I liked that she was a trustworthy friend for Grace, I knew—I fucking knew—that she had the answer I was searching for.
“Just yes or no. You don’t have to tell me anything else. Just yes or no,” I begged.
She stared at me across the short distance, the room dim from the night and lack of lights. “Sawyer…”
“Please, Sydney.”
“Why does it matter?” She threw her hands down at her sides in the overdramatic way I knew my sister could at times.
Did I put all my cards on the table? Did I open up this box? Because if I did, the last day and half of this weekend would consist of Sydney purposely putting Grace and I in situations where it was just her and I. Sydney would force the two of us to realize that we could be more than friends, and that we would work as more than friends.
We would work far better than Grace and Jeremy, and so, so much better than me and any woman I brought to my bed in the nights, weeks, months before.
We would work.
We could work.
“Because I care about her,” I confessed, leaving off the ‘as a friend’ because Sydney would see right through that anyway.
I could see Sydney fight with what she wanted to say. She fidgeted against the couch and scratched at her face. She wanted to tell me, she did, but she was a damn good friend and as loyal to Grace as she was to me.
“I can’t tell you, Soy. I’m sorry.”
Resigned, I sighed and allowed that to be her answer. “Yeah, alright. Good night, Syd. I’ll see you in a few hours,” I said, turning to head up the stairs.
She may not have told me, but I knew without a single doubt in my entire body that that was indeed what had happened and it killed me to know she hadn’t told me. Why?
Why didn’t she tell me?
She said she stopped using it as a store front six months ago; that was when we were still talking. Maybe not as much, but it was before I met Jeremy. We were still on good terms, even if cases had kept me busy.
It had to have been a decent panic attack for her to decide to not fight through it. Grace was a fighter; she would have fought through a momentary attack.
The upstairs was quiet, all the kids sleeping once again. I made my way to the guest bedroom and closed the door, sliding back into the now cold bed. I wasn’t sure what time Sydney did breakfast around here, but I was sure the boys didn’t sleep in, so I’d be lucky if I got even three more hours of sleep.
On my back and with an arm thrown over my eyes, I tried to find sleep again. I kept seeing Grace’s uneasy smiles from when I first arrived, and could feel her skin against my lips from the few times I whispered against her. God, I craved her and the twitching under my lounge pants, buried under the massive covers and duvet was the biggest indication.
The longer I thought of her, the harder I got. I should have locked the fucking door so I could take care of it, to hell with being in my sister’s guest bed. I could wash the sheets.
I thought back five years ago, back to Sydney and Caleb’s wedding. She and I had flown to Wisconsin together, rented a car together, drove the distance together. I learned a lot about her during that trip but the biggest thing was that it brought the newfound friendship we had to a new level. We had only been around each other a few other times prior to the wedding, but we had already started emailing and texting by that point.
At the reception I wasn’t terribly surprised that she had been by my side for most of the night. From as early as the engagement party, I knew she needed a constant when in busy places and I was more than happy to be that person for her. But as the sun dropped and the music played, as she and I danced the night away, the easier it had been to give in to desires.
We were both one hundred percent sober when she made her way to my hotel room that night. We were both completely of sound mind when the decision was made to find release in one another.
And what a fucking release it had been.
Grace was all sweet with a body meant for sinning. Our first time was on the bed—I don’t think I could have forgiven myself if I took her against the wall the first time—and it wasn’t nearly as slow and sweet as I would have guessed she’d go for.
Let’s just say, when Grace was comfortable with something, she was a bit of a hellion under all that lace.
Our second time was slow and sweet. If I concentrated hard enough, I could still feel the water of the Jacuzzi tub surrounding us as she straddled me, her high breasts pressed to my chest. I could still hear the jets swirling and the bubbles popping. I could smell the vanilla candles that we lit for fun.
We knew going into that bedroom that whatever we found in one another, it was staying in that room. We agreed it could be a one-night only ordeal, but we certainly covered all of our bases that night.
Bed.
Jacuzzi.
Wall, floor, couch, fucking deck with the rising sun.
If there was a surface, we used it and we used it well.
My dick was hard as granite. I reached under the covers to squeeze myself over my lounge pants and feeling particularly torturous, swiped my thumb over the head, pushed up and trying to find its way out of the waistband. I bit back a groan, slowly swirling my thumb through the drop of pre-cum and dragging slowly over the slit.
Good God. I could imagine Grace’s small mouth over me, her pink lips around my shaft. There was one thing we hadn’t gotten to, and that was her going down on me. I went down on her, but there was no way in hell I was going to survive her blonde head bobbing on me that night.
I sighed deeply, holding my breath in as my chest puffed out, and moved my thumb lower to graze the ridge. Good fucking lord, I had to stop. Someone could walk in. Or while, yeah
, I said I could wash the sheets, it was a little bit wrong to shoot my load while in my sister and brother-in-law’s guest bed.
But I hadn’t been this fucking turned on in a long-assed time.
I released the breath I’d been holding. The blunt tip of my thumbnail grazed the sensitive skin one last time before I pressed my palm, hard, over my shaft, taking even, deep breaths to try and calm myself. I’d be suffering major blue balls, but I’d done that before. I’d survive.
I was still hard but my heartrate had decelerated and my breathing was close to the even rhythm that came with sleep. Maybe for a few hours I could dream of Grace with me.
My mind on that image, I could hear as Sydney padded up the stairs, likely to try and get some more sleep herself before her kids woke her for the day. I had nearly dropped off the edge of sleep when the worst words I could hear were uttered through the closed door.
“It was the worst one I’d seen.”
God fucking damn.
So much for sleeping the rest of the night.
Grace
I arrived to the Prescott household five minutes prior to the time Sydney gave me.
I woke up early.
Showered early.
Sat around and had nothing to do so… I showed up early. I suppose I could have done something with my hair; it would have taken more time to dry it than to throw it in a messy bun, but I was anxious to get to Sydney’s house.
It had absolutely nothing to do with Sydney’s brother. Nothing.
Nothing to do with the almost kisses yesterday.
Nothing.
Nope. It wasn’t the hand hold, the brushing of my back, the whispered words, the calm he forced on me. None of it.
Keep telling yourself that, Grace.
It was funny. Sawyer had only been in my house a handful of times and yet I could feel him everywhere I looked, which probably added to my anxiousness to see him—no, Grace. To see Sydney—again. Jeremy, on the other hand, had practically lived at my place with how often he was over, and if it weren’t for the occasional reminder by way of the postal service, I would easily forget he’d been there.
