367 Days

by Jessica Gadziala

  If I was lucky, they didn't erase their footage after looking it over. They were, I hoped, too smart for that amateur shit.

  "I got your call. Sorry it took so long to get back to you. Lot of shit going on lately. But I have Tony working on getting the footage onto an external drive and over to you."

  "You didn't erase it."

  There was a short pause. "You should know better than that. We don't erase anything ever. Much easier these days. We have our own servers to store this shit."

  "I really appreciate this, Luca."

  "Don't mention it. Pops is pissed that anyone would dare drop a woman behind our dumpsters. When you figure out who it is, he might feel the need to pay a visit too. Is she okay?"

  I looked over at Riya, flipping through her paperwork, a line between her brows. "Yeah, she is."

  "But she'll be better when you figure out who did this to her," he guessed. "Bring her up to Familgia for dinner one night. I mean," he said, as if realizing what he was saying, "if she's not too traumatized by the place."

  "She's stronger than that," I said. "Thanks," I added, ending the call.

  "Who is stronger than that?" she asked a little distractedly.

  "Marg," I improvised. "She can deadlift a fucking SUV when she's in a mood," I shrugged, knowing the lie fell a little flat. And just about then, my phone started ringing again.

  "Popular today," she said, reaching to turn on the heat.

  "Hey Marg. Just talking about you," I answered.

  "All good things, I trust," she said and there was a clanging noise on the line. "Listen, mijo, I will drop everything off at your place at four tomorrow. But you need to make sure you get around to it no later than five or it will all start to turn," she lectured.

  "Got it, Marg. And thanks again."

  My whole team was helping me track down some things for the surprise I had planned for Riya the next day, something she needed, a win.

  "No, no," she brushed off my gratitude, as she always did, despite this being an even bigger favor than I usually asked her. "It makes my heart so happy that you finally have a woman in your life."

  "Marg," I said, dragging it out, warning in my voice. "It's not like that."

  "Sure, sure it's not, mijo. For what it's worth, I like her much better than the others."

  "Marg..."

  "A mother can dream, Sawyer," she said, hanging up.

  "What was all that about?" Riya asked, watching me with drawn-together brows. "You're smiling."

  "Marg is helping me on a special project. And she somehow believes I am her child in desperate need of advice."

  "It's sweet that you have her, though," Riya said, a small amount of sadness in her own voice, likely remembering the too-short time she had her adoptive mother.

  Another reminder of why she needed what I had planned.

  And while she was at work the next day, I was going to set things in motion.

  I was ignoring the fact that Marg was right in a way, it wasn't something a man generally did for just any woman. But Riya wasn't just any woman. She had been through hell and was really holding it together better than anyone else could expect.

  She deserved all the work that it was going to take.

  And I was just pretending that I wasn't maybe a bit too invested in seeing her happy than I should have been for a client.

  FOURTEEN

  Riya- 6 days

  Barrett was being weird.

  And, being that Barrett was always a little weird, that meant he was being super weird. But I shrugged it off as he drove me home and walked me to the back door, punching in the code though I already knew it, and for whatever reason, following me up to the door.

  "Is Sawyer expecting you?" I asked when he just stood there, hands tucked in his pockets, making him look boyish.

  As an answer, he reached out and tapped the door a couple times, making my brows draw together as the door pulled open.

  "Have fun, Riya," Barrett said, giving his brother in the doorway a megawatt smile and then taking off down the stairs almost at a run.

  "What is up with..." I started, looking at Sawyer who had the same freaking smile on his face. "Alright, what is up with both of you?"

  "Got something for you," he said in response, making both a thrill of hope and a stab of worry course through me. Hope because, well, I needed answers; I needed to know what happened to me. Worry because I wasn't sure what that might mean for not only the situation with Sawyer, but my job situation and my life in general.

  But then Sawyer stepped out of the doorway and held an arm out to indicate something inside and I pushed those worries away to be dealt with later.

  I took a step forward, putting me right inside of what used to be Sawyer's apartment.

  But where it used to be neat and streamlined, it was full of things that had never been there before. To the left inside the room was a fold-up table topped with a plastic tablecloth with little witch hats all over it. On top was a bowl full of gourds and two giant pumpkins along with a plastic jack-o-lantern full of candy.

  All over the kitchen were endless covered trays, the smell of turkey, stuffing, and the usual trimmings heavy in the air. A cornucopia was on the counter, bursting with fruits between two autumnal place settings.

  The living room was, well, it was Christmas. There was an untrimmed artificial tree with a dozen boxes of lights and ornaments piled beside it and a collection of wrapped presents underneath it.

  There was a small fold-up table with two chairs. There was champagne in a ice bucket and two flutes and big, obnoxious hats that said Happy New Year.

  On the desk of his that used to be loaded with junk, was another pile of presents, but wrapped in birthday paper.

  And finally, there were rose petals that led into the hall.

  I felt like my heart froze in my chest as I realized what it was.

  It was Sawyer giving me my year back.

  I felt the weight of that settle on me, making tears sting at the backs of my eyes and my heart do a weird expanding thing in my chest.

  When I looked over at him, I found him watching me, taking in me taking it all in.

  "Sawyer..." I said, my voice a hushed imitation of itself, finding myself almost alarmingly overwhelmed.

  "I know it's not the same," he said, lifting a shoulder and dropping it slightly. "But at least you can make some memories of the holidays you missed."

  I looked at him for a long minute, seeing nothing but kindness, genuineness in his eyes.

  And, for once, I didn't think, I didn't weigh the pros and cons of it all. I did what I felt like I wanted to do.

  I flew at him, knocking him back a step at the impact, my arms going tight around his back, my head buried in his neck.

  "Hey," he said, his arms sliding around me, pulling me even tighter against him, his face turning so that I felt his lips against the side of my head. And it was right about then that a strange, strangled sob escaped me. "Shh," he murmured and I felt his lips press a small kiss into my temple. "If you have a breakdown now, the food is going to get cold," he told me, making a choked laugh escape me. "Come on, we have pumpkins to carve," he said, running his hands up my back for a moment before releasing me, leaving me to swat at my eyes as he walked over toward the Halloween table and opened a laptop sitting there.

  "What are you doing?"

  "We need ambiance. What's your poison: Addams Family, Practical Magic, Hocus Pocus, or something scary?"

  "Um, Hocus Pocus. Duh," I said, moving over toward him as he clicked through movies online for a second before I heard the opening credits start.

  "Alright. So I bought all the designs and shit you can trace on..."

  "What is this, amateur hour?" I asked, making his eyes light up. "Give me a knife and I will carve this old school."

  "I respect that," he agreed, tossing the papers out of the way and opening the packages for the carving material.

  So then we got to work opening up the tops and pulling o
ut the guts. "You kind of lucked out that it's the right time of year for pumpkins," I said, reaching inside mine and grabbing a handful of the squishy guts, smiling a little as I pulled it out and then threw it at him, laughing when it hit him in the cheek, making him turn to me with a raised brow and a small smile, guts and seeds running down the front of his shirt.

  "Oh, babe. You're gonna regret that," he said, reaching for the giant pile of yuck sitting on a plate between our pumpkins.

  And, yeah, you didn't just stand there and take your retaliation. I turned and tried to escape.

  Only to find myself snagged around the belly from behind, hauled up and off my feet as I shrieked and tried to struggle away. His free, full hand rose and slapped down on the top of my head, squishing the pumpkin guts into my scalp. "Gross!" I laughed and kicked my legs out so hard that I knocked Sawyer off his feet, sending us both crashing backward. My stomach clenched hard as his arm tightened around my belly and the other crushed my skull to his chest so on impact, my teeth didn't knock together.

  "Fuck," he grunted when I felt the jolt as his body slammed into the hard floor.

  I pulled and turned, bracing my arms on his sides to take some of my weight as I looked down at him. "You okay?" I asked, snorting at the absurdity of it all when a bit of pumpkin innards slipped off the top of my head and landed on the top of his.

  "Can think of worse positions to be in than this," he said, wicked smile in place as his hands moved down my back and landed on my ass, giving each cheek a comical squeeze.

  But my breasts were crushed to his chest. My hips were aligned with his hips. His lips were a whisper from mine.

  And he was giving me a year of memories in one night.

  I had never felt closer to someone before in my life.

  As if seeing the change from playful teasing to something more, his hands sank in harder into my ass, his breathing got a little deeper, his eyes lost their light and grew heated.

  And reacting to his reaction, I felt my pressed breasts get heavier, my nipples tightening into peaks, my sex clenching, making me have to resist the urge to grind my hips against his to see if he wanted me as badly as I wanted him.

  I swallowed hard and he took a deep breath, one hand falling from my ass, the other slapping one cheek hard. "Okay. Up. We have a lot of holidays to experience still."

  I nodded slightly and pushed up, moving back onto my heels and he slid out from underneath me and got to his feet as I took a couple of deep breaths to calm my libido and did the same. I went back over to my pumpkin as Sawyer went to the kitchen, running water for a moment. When he came back, he moved in behind me and I felt something wet drop on the top of my head as he scrubbed the guts out. I had to focus fully on what my hands were doing so I didn't slice off a finger. Because his warm, solid body was behind mine and the urge to lean back into him was almost overpowering.

  "Alright. Better," he declared, moving away to the kitchen and I quickly finished my one jagged tooth and moved onto the eyes, carving them out as fast as was safe.

  "Classic," Sawyer declared when I stepped back to look at my triangle eyes and wide mouth.

  When I looked over at his, I found his jack o'lantern looked like he carved them for a living. His mouth stretched up toward slitted, sinister looking eyes and was full of a dozen or so sharp, pointed teeth on each bridge. I made a disgusted noise. "Is there anything you're not amazing at?"

  He looked over, lips twitching. "Not a fucking thing," he declared with confidence and I found myself laughing. "Alright, here," he said, reaching for a tea light and putting it inside mine, lighting it, and putting the lid back on. "Pick it up," he declared, moving backward several steps.

  "Why?" I asked as he took his phone out of his pocket.

  "You're taking a picture," he informed me and I felt myself shift uncomfortably. I was in jeans and a camel-colored sweater that had a slight fraying on the bottom hem. My makeup hadn't been touched up since the morning and my hair still felt damp from where he scrubbed it. I wasn't in a picture-taking mood. "Stop being such a girl about it and pick up the fucking pumpkin," he declared and somehow, his usual gruffness pushed my silly insecurity away.

  I picked up the pumpkin and held it, giving him a small smile as his camera made a shutter sound twice.

  "Perfect," he declared as he looked at the picture and I felt my belly do a wobble as I placed the pumpkin back down on the table and reached for a piece of candy. "Eat that quick. We have Thanksgiving dinner to eat now."

  "You cooked?" I asked, following him into the kitchen as I unwrapped my mini Milky Way and popped it into my mouth.

  He smiled over at me and shook his head. "I can cook. But I can't put out a spread. This was all Marg," he declared as he picked up the plates and handed one to me. "What do you usually do for Thanksgiving?" he asked, knowing I had no family to turn to.

  I shrugged. "I usually cook a really tiny turkey and make boxed stuffing and mash up a potato and call it a day."

  "Well, if I know Marg, not a fucking thing here is from a box," he said as he took the tops off some of the bowls and platters. "And the turkey is big enough to feed ten people. I hope you like it because we will be eating it for a week," he told me, piling his plate and I moved in behind him to do the same. He placed his food on his spot and moved back to grab his laptop. Hocus Pocus turned off and he placed it on the counter as I sat down and I watched as the parade suddenly came on the screen.

  He had truly put a lot of effort into the whole thing. Even if Marg had cooked, he had asked her to. He had found the parade and he had gotten pumpkins and carving kits. He found a tree and ornaments, despite it being way too early for the stores to have them stocked. And then he had bought me presents. Presents. I was more than a little excited to know what he had found that he thought I would enjoy. I was pretty sure I hadn't been so excited for Christmas presents since I still believed in Santa. It was making my insides jumpy and my skin electric.

  "You're quiet," he declared a long time later as we each ate and watched his laptop as various performers sang and kids danced and floats moved down the street.

  I looked over, gave him a somewhat giddy smile, and told him the truth. "I'm really excited about Christmas."

  He smiled back at me, warm, warmer than I had ever seen him smile before and my insides maybe went a little melty at seeing it. "Well, you are just going to have to contain your excitement because we have to trim the tree and write letters to Santa and eat cookies before you can open your presents."

  "Write letters to Santa?" I asked, smiling big.

  "Yep. We'll see if you made the nice list."

  I resisted the urge to quip something about him being naughty and said instead, my voice a little small, "I didn't get you anything..."

  He looked back at me, brows drawn together. "This isn't about me," he declared, then looked back to his food.

  We ate until I swore I couldn't take anymore. And then he served me pumpkin pie and, well, you didn't turn down pumpkin pie, no matter how full you were.

  "Okay, here you go. You get into this and I will make the hot chocolate," he declared, holding out a bag to me.

  I looked at it skeptically. "This isn't some see-through Christmas lingerie, is it?"

  "I wish I had thought of that," he told me, eyes dancing. I took the bag and moved toward the bathroom.

  When I pulled it out, I didn't find lingerie.

  Oh no.

  I found a one-piece candy cane-printed pajama set.

  Yes, one piece.

  With feeties.

  I laughed at it for a second, looking up into the mirror and seeing something in my face that I hadn't seen there since before I found out Michael was a cheating bastard.

  Happiness.

  I looked so freaking happy.

  And I had Sawyer to thank for that.

  So I stripped out of my clothes and climbed into the onesie, pulling up the front zipper and turning to make sure there wasn't some cheesy buttons on the ass o
r anything. Finding there wasn't, I moved back out to find Sawyer waiting for me in the living room. Two cups of hot chocolate were steaming in their mugs on the table and pens, paper, and envelopes were beside each cup.

  "Come on, tell Santa what you want for Christmas," he declared and, even though I felt silly at the very idea of writing a Christmas list, I walked over, smiling when I heard Christmas music playing.

  I sat down cross-legged on the floor and stared at the paper for a long time, realizing there was only thing I wanted. So, knowing it was going in an envelope, I went ahead and wrote it:

  Sawyer.

  There was no more denying it, no more pretending it was just a crutch or some kind of post-traumatic attraction to the first person who was nice to me.

  It wasn't that.

  I liked him. I liked him more than what was probably healthy because I knew he wasn't that settling down kind of guy. I found that all the things I found hard to take at first- the bluntness, the gruffness, the occasional rudeness, and the coolness, became some of the things I appreciated most about him. He said what he felt; he didn't sugarcoat things; he didn't even think about doing something like tempering his opinions to not offend me; and he kept a level head. Those were admirable qualities. They were strong and self-assured qualities.

  But on top of those things, I had also learned that he was other things as well.

  He was observant. He was a good listener. He gave a shit about people, even people he pretended to have a love/hate relationship with like his brother.

  And, as this night proved, he was so incredibly thoughtful that he put every other man I knew or had even heard of to shame. Who else would think to give you memories of a year you lost? Who would think of every small little detail from the parade to hot chocolate?

  He was so freaking good.

  And I wanted him. And not just sexually, though that was definitely part of it. I wanted him because he was just all around amazing.

  "Alright, seal it up," he demanded and I did, putting the freaking address label to the North Pole on it and everything. "So," he declared as I picked up my hot chocolate, smiling because it had mini marshmallows and whipped cream as he got onto his feet. "What do you like, white or colored lights?"