His stomach churned as he thought of the wedding they might’ve had, the trials and tribulations of going through the pregnancy together. Raising their son, as a couple.
Now, it was all bitter ash in the wind, a fantasy that would never be.
How could he ever trust her again?
He drifted off to sleep, heartsick.
Twenty
By the third day of camping, he was running low on rations. He was also starting to think a little more rationally, or at least more kindly toward Remy.
Actually, he was starting to feel guilt. That was his overwhelming emotion as the sun dipped low, ready to drop below the horizon. Once he’d raged about the deception, he couldn’t help but think of Remy’s side of things.
She said she’d written, and he believed her.
He could imagine how she’d felt, thinking that he was ignoring her. Thinking that he didn’t care about the mess he’d left behind, the mess he’d made of her life.
No wonder she’d slammed the door in his face the first time she saw him again. She probably thought he’d finally shown up to claim paternity, take her kid away like The Colonel had apparently threatened to do.
Yeah, she’d done the wrong thing. Yeah, she’d fucked up big time.
But he still felt for her. Truthfully, she’d suffered a lot more in all of this than he had.
That night down at the swimming hole, when she talked so wistfully about all the things she wished she could do…
He hadn’t understood, then. Kept telling her that she could do anything she wanted.
That wasn’t even close to the truth, not if she was caring for a kid and trying to keep her family farm afloat.
So yeah, he understood some of it. A little.
That didn’t help him a whole lot, though. He had a kid who’d never seen his face. He had brothers and a girl he couldn’t trust. A father who’d blatantly tried to bully his girl into getting rid of the pregnancy…
A massive ranch project, with contracts signed, saying that he had to deal with these people every day for at least the next couple of years. All his own idea, so there really was no way to back out.
So what the hell was he supposed to do now?
Uncertain, he decided to hike for a bit, burn off a little energy. At least that way, maybe he’d sleep tonight without dreams of desert sand and death.
Twenty One
When he got back to camp, he was surprised to find Walker sitting next to the campfire, sipping what looked like a fresh beer.
“No traitors in camp,” Sawyer said, rolling up his sleeping bag.
“Hey, I thought I was protecting you.”
“From a three year old?” Sawyer asked with a scowl.
“No, I thought Remy and Colt hooked up.”
That gave Sawyer pause. “That’s fucked up, man. You can go ahead and go now, though.”
“I’m here to report on Shiloh.”
Sawyer arched a brow.
“Your son?” Walker asked.
“Oh.” Sawyer scratched the back of his neck. “I didn’t get around to asking his name.”
“No, I see that you’re busy out here in the wilderness,” Walker said, glancing around.
“Well? What’s the report?” Sawyer asked, already impatient.
“He’s doing fine. He’s home with Remy.”
“You went by?”
“No, actually. She called looking for you, told me to pass on the message.”
“Hmm. She’s full of information, suddenly.”
Sawyer pointed to the six-pack that Walker had brought, and Walker broke one off to toss it over.
“So… Shiloh.”
“Yeah, it’s a good name,” Walker said carefully.
“For a kid that doesn’t know that I exist,” Sawyer said, popping the tab on the beer. “Perfect.”
“So you’re still in the heavy sarcasm and anger portion of your trip,” Walker said, waving a hand.
“What am I supposed to feel?”
“I don’t know. Grateful that Remy’s taken care of your son, without asking for anything? Sad that you missed out on his younger life, eagerness to participate in the future?”
Sawyer shrugged. “I feel too many things to be able to sort any of it out.”
“Well… none of that really matters now.”
Sawyer paused. “Sorry?”
“You have a kid. That takes priority over your feelings now.”
“That’s a shitty thing to say to your brother.”
“Yeah? It’s like a tiny, tiny taste of what Remy’s probably been living with all this time.”
Blowing out a breath, Sawyer shook his head.
“Doesn’t make what she did right.”
“Nope. But it explains a lot. Mama bear protecting her cub? She’ll do about anything.”
Sawyer sipped his beer, staring into the fire. Thinking.
“I’m more mad at The Colonel than Remy,” he admitted after a minute.
“Fuck him,” Walker said. “He was a shitty father to us. He’s an even worse grandfather, apparently. Doesn’t change anything.”
“No.”
Walker was quiet for a beat, and Sawyer could tell that he was building up to something.
“This is your chance, man. You get to do better than The Colonel. Make sure your kid doesn’t grow up hating you.”
Sawyer sighed. “Yeah.”
“And… look, I hate to play the tragedy card here, man… but you’re the best off of the three of us. Colt’s leg is all fucked up, I’m fucking permanently alone after Jenny died…”
Sawyer kept his expression blank, though he was shocked at Walker’s words. He hadn’t heard Walker use his dead fiancée’s name since her funeral, maybe.
“You’re right,” Sawyer said, inclining his head.
“You get a chance to apologize to your girl, meet your kid… do it all over. Do you know how many people get a do-over? Not fucking many.”
Walker took a long sip of his beer, as if all the talking was working up a big thirst in him.
“So… what? I just forget that it all happened?” Sawyer asked.
“Maybe start with an apology, instead of expecting one,” Walker said. “You knocked Remy up. You changed her whole life. And yet, you don’t see her throwing a hissy fit about it, running off to hide in the woods.”
“Flattering.”
“Accurate.” Walker set down his beer bottle. “Even if it isn’t really your fault, it’s not truly hers, either. She’s put up with a hell of a lot, not asked you for a thing. I can tell you right now, I’d kill to trade places with you.”
Sawyer considered that. “Yeah, I guess she’s a pretty strong woman.”
“Wife material.”
“Jesus,” Sawyer said, rolling his eyes.
“What, you’ve never thought about it?”
“With Remy?”
“Yeah, with the girl who’s been devoted to you for most of our lives.”
Four years, she’d said. No matter what her reasons were, no doubt complex, she’d waited for him.
“Maybe I should start slow. Meet my son,” he said.
Walker nodded. “Not a bad beginning.”
“Yeah.”
They drank for a bit, poking at the campfire.
“So… you gonna come home, or just live out here like a mountain man?” Walker asked.
“Tomorrow.”
“All right. Well… how about some company?”
“You brought your sleeping bag?”
“I was a SEAL too, you know. I don’t show up for anything unprepared, Sawyer.”
Sawyer smiled, his first in days. “All right.”
“All right?”
“All right.”
And that was enough, for the moment.
Twenty Two
Back at the ranch, Sawyer showered and shaved before finally powering his phone back on. A few missed calls from Merissa, two from Remy. Three from a number with a 202 area code.
<
br /> Washington D.C.
Could be anything, but…
He called back, figuring he needed a clear mind to deal with Remy.
“Hello?” came a woman’s voice.
“This is Sawyer Roman. I missed a few calls from this number.”
“Oh, Sawyer. Yes. This is Ariana Craig.”
Craig. As in, the wife of Darren Craig, his former unit commander. Also the only other person to make it out of their unit alive.
Sawyer’d only met Darren’s wife once, at a gala raising money for veterans, but he remembered her being a friendly face in a sea of strange civilians.
“Ariana,” he said, a dark feeling welling in the pit of his belly. “What can I do for you?”
“Well…” she said, her voice breaking. “I’m sorry. I wanted you to hear from me personally. Darren passed away two days ago.”
His heart skipped a full beat.
“But he was released from the hospital, wasn’t he? That’s what I was told.”
She drew a breath, shaky even over the phone line.
“He was never the same after he came back. I’m afraid…” she trailed off, sniffling. “I’m afraid he took his own life.”
Fuck.
“Ariana, I’m so sorry.”
“It’s… well, it’s not okay, but… I was hoping you might be able to come to the memorial service. It’s tomorrow. I know that’s short notice.”
“Of course. Whatever you need,” he said, gripping the phone tight.
“I’ll have someone send over the details.”
“Of course,” he repeated, completely at a loss for what to say.
“See you tomorrow.”
The call ended, leaving him staring down at his phone, his mind blank. He sat down on his bed, heart heavy, thoughts churning.
“Fuck,” he said again.
Darren had left the SEALs months after Sawyer did. Though they’d been close as brothers during the time they served together, after returning stateside…
They’d both made attempts to see each other, spend time together, but it was always a drag. They couldn’t talk about the explosion, couldn’t talk about their guilt, so it just hung between them in the air.
Poisoned their friendship.
Drove them apart.
Sawyer hadn’t even known that Darren was struggling to reintegrate. Now he was gone, just one more person that Sawyer had let down.
Laying back on his bed, he closed his eyes and said a prayer… not just for Darren, but for himself.
God, please don’t let this be the sum of who I am. I can be more, be better. I know it…
Twenty Three
Sawyer jumped when he heard a knock on his door a few hours later. When he swung the door open, Remy stood on the other side, eyes wide and nervous.
“Hi,” she said. “Can I come in?”
“Uh…” he said, turning to look at his apartment. It was a bit of a mess, clothes strewn across the bed as he packed for his trip. “Sure.”
He held the door open for her and she stepped in, noting his suitcase.
“Taking off?” she asked, clearing her throat.
“No, no,” he said, closing the door. “Well… just for a trip.”
“I thought maybe we would talk before you, um…” she slowed, waving her hand at the suitcase. “Did whatever you’re doing here.”
“Rem… it’s… I have to go to a funeral,” he said, rubbing a hand over the stubble on his jaw.
“Oh!” she said, turning sympathetic in an instant. “Oh, I’m so sorry.”
“Yeah. It’s… you know, the night I got drunk? The last surviving member of my unit, he…”
He couldn’t finish.
Remy came over and opened her arms, giving him a warning look before she encircled him in a tight hug. He let her, leaning into the embrace.
It felt… well, nice wasn’t the word.
Incredible.
That was closer.
“I’m going with you.”
Sawyer hadn’t realized that he’d let his eyes close. He opened them, pulled back, and looked at Remy.
“Sorry?”
“I’m going with you.”
“To… the funeral?” he asked, confused.
“Yep.”
“Why?”
“Because you need someone. And we need to talk anyway.”
“And you don’t think this is, perhaps, terrible timing?”
“Look. I saw you before, that night you got all drunk and sad. You need support, and I could use a night away.”
“I haven’t even decided if I’ve forgiven you yet,” he said, point-blank.
Remy blinked. “Well… we both have a lot to forgive.”
That gave him pause.
“Fair enough.”
“All right. I need to pack. When’s the flight?”
He stared at Remy for a second, feeling overwhelmed. She was so no-nonsense, bossy almost. A side he hadn’t really seen of her, perhaps due to her responsibilities as a mom.
“What about… Shiloh?” he asked, the name sounding foreign on his tongue.
“My parents will take care of him for a night,” she said. “He loves my mother more than anyone else on the whole planet.”
Sawyer stood, paced to the window. “I want to meet him.”
“You will.”
He looked back at Remy, whose expression was endlessly patient.
“Okay.”
“Okay?” she asked.
“Okay. Go pack. The flight’s in four hours, I’ll get you a ticket.”
Her brows arched, but she just nodded. “Okay. Come pick me up on your way?”
“Sure,” he said, marveling at how very very adult they were both being about the whole thing.
“Sawyer?” she asked as she opened the door.
“Yeah?”
“It’s going to be okay.”
He watched her face for another heartbeat, then nodded. She gave him a half smile, then let herself out.
Twenty Four
I can’t believe I’m standing here right now, Remy thought.
She looked around at the sea of unfamiliar faces at the wake, lots of men and women in Navy dress whites crowded in a ballroom. Plenty of people in black too, like Remy…
But they were spouses, parents, friends. None of them were quite in her… unique situation.
After she’d gathered all her courage and gone way out on a limb to invite herself to follow Sawyer to D.C., it seemed dumb to be as nervous as she was right now.
For the most part, she was just a blonde in a fancy dress, following Sawyer around as he shook hands with various people. He’d stopped introducing her after the first few, because it was too awkward.
“This is Remy, my… friend,” he’d said, frowning.
Meanwhile, Remy was blushing red to the roots of her hair as she shook hands with a serious-looking silver-haired man in uniform.
There was that word again, friend. Sawyer liked to throw that around, didn’t he?
Then again, there wasn’t much of a better word for it. Baby mama was too trite. Ex-girlfriend was too… finite.
So she’d drifted to the side of the room, accepting a glass of champagne. Watching Sawyer from afar, trying not to let his dress uniform do wicked things to her brain.
Failing, totally and completely.
He looked beyond handsome, and from this distance Remy could actually watch other women reacting to Sawyer. He turned heads, made women bite their lips and give him longing looks when they thought his head was turned.
Not that Remy could judge them. She wasn’t any better, over here in the corner all longing while he was mourning his friend.
Adding to the awkwardness, they still hadn’t talked.
When she climbed into his SUV, he’d quietly asked if she could wait until after the funeral to deal with all the rest of it.
“Of course,” she’d said, and she’d meant it.
So they’d slept in different hotel room
s, met up before the funeral service. She’d held his hand during the internment, Sawyer watching the casket lower into the ground, so tense that she was worried he might faint.
After that, he’d seemed to need distance. So she bided her time, checking and rechecking her phone to see if her mother had called. Any minute now, she was going to sneak out and call Shiloh, just to check in.
“He’s something, isn’t he?”
Remy turned to find a statuesque brunette standing beside her, holding a matching champagne flute. In a curve-hugging black dress that showed off her fit, tanned body, no less.
“Sorry?” Remy asked, unsure if the woman was talking to her but not seeing anyone else around.
“Sawyer. I saw that you two arrived together.” The brunette’s lips curved in a humorless smile.
“Oh. Uh… we’re…” Remy started, then stopped. “Sorry, who are you?”
“Merissa,” she said, extending an elegant hand. “His girlfriend.”
Remy’s mouth opened, but no sound came out for a second.
“Oh,” was all she managed.
“Yeah. It’s funny, when he texted last night to say he was in town, I wasn’t expecting… well, I’m not sure why he brought you along. Third wheel, much?” she said, giving a little laugh. “That Sawyer, never thinking with the right head, huh?”
She tapped her temple. Remy blinked, immediately off-put.
“He’s never mentioned you,” Remy said slowly, canting her head to the side.
“Funny, I was about to say the same thing about you.”
Merissa gave her an indulgent smile, then tsked. “Men, huh?”
“Right,” Remy said, feeling cornered.
“Yeah. You know what’s so great about Sawyer, though? We always pick right up where we left off. Kinky sex, right out the gate. You know what I mean?” Merissa asked with a sly grin.
“Um, no?” Remy said, furrowing her brow.
“Oh… well. Don’t worry about it.” Merissa patted her arm.
“Will you excuse me?” Remy asked, putting her glass down on a table.
“Of course,” Merissa practically purred.
Promise Me: A Second Chance Romance Page 45
