Chapter Twenty-Six

Sawyer

She’s been gone like five minutes and I’m ready to call her to come back. How sad am I? No, not sad. In love. Fuck yes, I’m in love with her. I have been for a while now, but too afraid to just say it. Tonight when she said those words, I knew it was time. I would have loved to have actually said them first, but I’m not complaining now.

My girl loves me, and it feels pretty fucking awesome.

I grab a beer from the fridge and turn on Sports Center in the living room. The back door is ajar, the cool breeze blowing off the Bay, along with the sound of this weekend’s football recap filling the house. There’s plenty I could do, now that I have the house to myself. AJ’s been here most nights (not that I’m complaining one bit) and I’ll admit I’ve slacked on a few tasks. Laundry, for one. There’s a mountain of clothes in my laundry room in desperate need of my attention.

After throwing a load of darks into the washer, I head up and jump in the shower. I’m not going to sleep well tonight, not without her in my bed, that’s for sure, but a run might tire me out enough to help me fall asleep. Unfortunately, I’m just not up for a second run today.

The scalding shower water leaves my skin red and tingly. I use the hand towel to wipe the steam from the mirror and place my hands on the vanity. Images of AJ bent over this very unit this morning replay through my mind, making my cock start to stir to life beneath the towel. There’s no desire to knock the edge off, though. Instead, I’ll keep my hands to myself and wait until my girl comes home in the morning.

Home.

That’s what it feels like when she’s here.

Throwing on a pair of basketball shorts and a Rangers tee, I head downstairs to grab another beer. When I round the corner, I stop dead in my tracks when my eyes collide with the woman’s on the couch. They’re all wrong, though. Hers are hazel, her hair blonde.

Carrie.

“What the fuck are you doing in here?” I ask, annoyed at her presence in my living room.

“Your door was open,” she says, nodding toward the back door.

“Silly me. I thought being that it’s my house and all, and no one opened the door for you and invited you in, meant something.”

“Oh, don’t be such a fuddy-duddy,” she coos. She stands up, her long trench-style coat hitting below her knees. She’s wearing those killer heels I used to love so much, but now do nothing for me. Her hair is shiny and tumbles in big waves down her back, and her makeup flawless. She looks like she just stepped off the pages of a magazine.

“Seriously, Carrie. What are you doing here?” I cross my arms at my chest and stare her down.

“I told you I was coming back to town in October,” she says, as if that’s reason enough for her to be standing in my living room, uninvited.

“What does that have to do with me?” I ask, annoyed that we have to do this whole song and dance.

“I missed you,” she whines, taking a step forward. I raise my hand, halting her from stepping into my personal space. “How come you’re alone tonight?” she asks, turning and walking over to the mantle above the fireplace.

“None of your business.”

“Oh, come on, Sawyer. Don’t act like I’m your enemy. I know you. Probably better than you know you,” she says matter-of-factly. Christ, could she be any more wrong? She doesn’t know the slightest thing about me. Not the real me.

Realizing I’m not getting rid of her until she’s ready to either leave or tell me why she’s here, I drop down in the chair that AJ likes to sit in and watch the waves crash over the beach. I also realize I didn’t grab that second beer, because if I’m going to be stuck dealing with Carrie and her high maintenance drama, I definitely need alcohol.

Getting ready to stand up, she stops my progress. “Here, I hope you don’t mind, but I made myself at home and grabbed a drink. I brought you a beer,” she says, handing me a fresh beer bottle with the top already popped off.

I take a drink as she grabs a wine glass and sips the sweet white wine that’s AJ’s favorite. She smiles over the wineglass, a slow and seductive one that heckles my nerves. It makes me drink the beer that much faster. Neither of us speak as I drain the bottle of beer and try to figure out how to get my ex-wife out of my house.

“Spill it,” I direct, setting the empty down on the end table beside me. The way her eyes light up, you’d think I just asked for a hell of a lot more than for her to explain her presence in my house.

“I was thinking,” she starts, setting the glass down on the coffee table. My mind instantly goes to AJ and watching her set down her wineglass while she’s grading papers. “I wanted to apologize for hurting you.”

Wait. What?

I blink repeatedly, wondering what alternate universe I fell into. Never does Carrie apologize. In the years I’ve known her, I could probably count the number of times she’s said the words ‘I’m sorry’ on one hand. Her way of apologizing is to change the subject or give a blowjob. Yeah, I’m not proud to admit my ex could manipulate me through my dick, but it happened.

But not anymore.

“I’m over it,” I tell her, my head starting to feel a little heavy.

“Are you?” she asks, getting up and walking to me. Before I realize what’s happening, she kneels down between my legs and runs a manicured nail up my thigh. The trench coat splitting open between her legs to reveal nothing.

That’s a huge red flag.

Jumping to my feet, I practically knock her on her ass. My head swims and it’s hard to focus. What the fuck? I’ve only had two beers.

“Yes, I’ve moved on. There’s nothing between us but a past, Carrie,” I hear myself say, but don’t feel my own lips moving. “And that’s where we stay. There is no us anymore.”

“I know,” she says, sadness filling her eyes. “I can see how happy she makes you.” Carrie crosses her arms over her chest protectively, her store-bought DDs exploding from the top of the coat.

“She does,” I confirm, the room starting to spin. “I’m in love with her. I want to spend the rest of my life with her.” I take a few deep breaths trying to find my center. When that doesn’t happen, I add, “I think you should go.”

“You’re right,” she says, walking over to grab her purse. Carrie returns and stands before me, the coat completely hanging open now and revealing some sort of bra and panty lingerie set. “I’m really sorry it turned out like this, Sawyer. I really am, but this is for the best.”

The best? What the fuck is she droning on about? I can’t even wrap my head around it anymore. I think I have the flu or something. My head is swimming, my stomach churning, and I’m not sure how much longer I can stand up. Shit, am I still standing up?

“Come on, Sawyer. You’ll feel much better in the morning.”

Darkness consumes me.

* * *

Marching band. There’s a marching band practicing somewhere close by, but why? Our school has a band, but why the fuck are they playing in my bedroom?

I reach over for AJ and sigh when my hand connects with smooth, bare skin. I should probably stay away if I’m coming down with something, but I need to feel her against me right now. Shit, I need to be inside of her. But I’m not sure I can without my head exploding from my body. What the hell is wrong with me?

I run my hand down her back, my cock starting to stir to life beneath the sheets. When I reach her ass, I hear her gasp.

But…it’s wrong.

It’s off.

Something’s definitely off.

She sounds…distant.

Cracking open my eyes, I regret it instantly. Soft light filters through the curtains, making my head throb even more. What the hell happened last night? I remember coming home. AJ told me she loved me and I said it in return. She left to go to her sister’s. Then, it gets…fuzzy.

“Again? You are insatiable this morning,” AJ coos beside me, flexing her ass in my hand.

Only…

It’s not AJ.

My eyes fly open and connect with emerald green ones. I know in this moment that those eyes will haunt me for the rest of my life. I’ll never forget the way she looks at me, with so much pain and hurt that it slices through my chest and embeds into my soul like a horrible, regrettable tattoo.

I glance to my left and find my ex-wife smiling coyly and brightly at me.

I’m out of bed so fast you’d think my sheets were on fire. And, in a way, they are. The pain in my head makes me stumble as I try to get to her. Trying to push the nausea aside, I sprint across the room until I’m directly in front of the woman I love. A tear slides down her cheek the same as the hurt slides down my chest.

“AJ?” I ask, not understanding what the hell is going on, but imaging how this must look to her. She glances down, her eyes wide with recognition and horror. When I realize what she’s looking at, I dive for last night’s discarded shorts on the floor. “Wait, this isn’t what you think,” I start, but the rest of the words get caught in my throat.

Because I, myself, don’t even know what to think.

“Oh, then please tell me what this is. Tell me that I didn’t just walk in on my boyfriend, in bed–NAKED–with his ex-wife. Tell me that’s not what this is,” her bitter words fly as she waves at the rumpled bed that contains my ex-wife.

“It’s not, baby, I swear,” I beg, but the crazy thing is…I don’t. I don’t know what happened last night. I can’t remember a motherfucking thing.

“Sawyer,” Carrie singsongs behind me. “That’s not what you said last night.” And then the bitch giggles. She fucking giggles, like nails on a chalkboard, making my stomach convulse and drop to my toes. But what’s worse is AJ’s reaction. The shock mixed with anger is enough to make me want to put my fist through the wall. Or maybe my head.

“Clearly, I’ve come at the wrong time,” AJ whispers, her wide eyes darting back and forth between my bed and me.

“No, I can explain this,” I state again knowing that I can’t. But I have to try.

“You know, as much as I’d love to stick around and hear that explanation, I’m going to go,” she croaks out, her words slicing and dicing with the precision of an operating physician as she turns and practically runs from my bedroom.

“You can’t leave,” I beg, reaching out and grabbing her arm when we get to the bottom of the stairs.

She whips around, her eyes full of blazing tears. She looks torn between wanting to tear me apart, limb from limb, and beating me to death with them, and wanting to curl up in a ball and cry. If I had a choice, I’d choose death, because watching her cry is its own brand of torture. It’s worse than any death could ever be.

“I love you,” I whisper hoarsely, my throat dry and the biggest ball of emotion lodged firmly in place.

“Clearly you and I have two very different ideas of love.”

“Alison…” Her name is a plea on my lips and a knife to my heart at the same time.

“Congratulations, Sawyer. You’ve managed to prove every tabloid right in a single night.” She turns and walks to the front door. “But do you know what hurts the most?” She doesn’t turn around. She stares straight ahead, her body soldier straight, as she delivers her final blow. “What hurts the most is that you proved me wrong.”

The sound of her soft sob, followed quickly by her retreating footsteps, consumes me as I stand, eyes closed, and pray for this to be a bad dream. No way in fuck did this just happen. No way did I take my ex-wife to bed. No way did I just destroy everything AJ and I have been building together over the last couple of months.

I try to remember anything–any shred of memory from last night when Carrie arrived–and come up empty. I know I didn’t consume that much alcohol, and no way in fuck would I have willingly invited Carrie into my bed. Not when the only woman I want there just walked out my door.

And who would blame her? I have no recollection of last night’s events, no plausible justification. All I have is what looks like a confirmation that I’m the biggest douchebag player ever conceived. This is a nightmare.

My nightmare.

My feet are heavy as I make my way back upstairs. No way in fuck do I want to go back into my room, but I need a damn explanation. Storming into the room, I find Carrie still naked in bed. Her perky tits are on full display, but the sight of them–and her–just makes my stomach repulse that much more than it already is.

“What did you do?” I ask, my hands on my hips and breathing hard.

“Me? I believe it was you who did lots of things to me last night,” she giggles and slides her hands down her chest.

“What the fuck happened last night, Carrie?” I ask, stomping over to my dresser and grabbing a clean Rangers shirt from the pile.

“I could tell you, but it would be so much more fun to show you.” I can hear the sheets moving and the bed dip. I know she’s approaching me from behind. I’m not quick enough to get my shirt over my head.

“It’s bullshit, Carrie. I know it.”

“Do you?” she asks, running her hands up my back. I shudder at her touch, and not in the good way. Not in the way I do when AJ runs her fingers over the puckered scars on my shoulder.

“I didn’t sleep with you,” I insist, even though I don’t know that for a fact and every detail is suggesting I did.

“Oh, there wasn’t much sleeping,” she giggles once more before kissing my back.

That’s it. I can’t take it anymore–not her touch, not her voice, not her insinuations. “Get out,” I demand.

“What? But last night you said we were together again,” she whines.

“I may not remember what the hell happened last night, but I can guarantee that me agreeing to an us again, wasn’t it.”

She stands there, naked, with a knowing smile on her face. “Oh, come on, Sawyer. You got rid of the trash. Now it’s just you and me,” she coos as she steps forward to press her tits to my chest.

And I see red.

“Get out,” I holler, not even caring that I’m raising my voice, something I rarely ever do. In fact, the last time I raised my voice at her was when I found her in bed with my replacement. Even through the divorce, and her constant implications that I couldn’t keep it in my pants, I never lost my cool.

“Saw–”

“No! Get out! Get your clothes and get the fuck out of my house, Carrie!”

I don’t even wait for her to reply, nor do I wait for her to gather her shit. My feet are moving and they’re moving fast. As I race down the stairs, I throw my shirt on over my head. I slip on a pair of running shoes from the closet, grab my keys off the table where AJ discarded them when she arrived earlier, and head out the door to find my car in the driveway next to where hers was once parked.

The sunlight kills my eyes and makes my brain feel like it wants to explode in my head, but I don’t stop until I’m in the driver’s seat. My knees slam into the steering column, making me curse a blue streak a mile wide, and my brain takes the opportunity to remind me of why my seat was moved forward.

AJ.

I have to find her.

Before it’s too late.

* * *

It’s been hours.

I’ve been everywhere.

She’s nowhere to be found.

She’s gone.