Chapter Twenty-Nine

Sawyer

“Why are you ignoring my calls?” my brother Dylan asks. It’s the first time I’ve answered his calls or texts, which started yesterday afternoon. Right after it all went down.

“I’m not. Just been busy,” I grumble, wishing I had let this one go to voicemail too.

“Bullshit. What’s wrong?” he pushes.

I sigh deeply, not really wanting to get into this AJ mess with Dylan. “It’s nothing I can’t handle. Just an issue with AJ.” The issue of her not speaking to me after finding me naked in bed with my ex-wife yesterday morning, nor was I able to talk to her today since she called in sick. You know. That issue.

“What’d you do? Fuck it up already?” His words are like a truth-bomb dropped right in my lap.

“Why’d you call again?”

“Uh uh, you’re not changing the subject that easily. What happened? Tell me you didn’t push away the only woman who’s made you smile in I don’t know how long.” Dammit, Dylan. I really don’t want to get into it right now, but there’s no getting around it. He’s like a fucking pit bull with a bone when he’s on to something.

“Something happened,” I confess, rubbing a hand over the back of my neck as that ever-present tightening in my chest grabs hold once more. “Something big.”

“What? She’s knocked up? She met someone else? She confessed she’s not into you because she wants your hotter, younger brother?” Even his brand of humor doesn’t get a rise out of me.

“Worse. She found me in bed with Carrie.” Just saying those damn words again brings back every ounce of pain.

I’m met with silence for several seconds. Seconds that turn to minutes. “Excuse me? Can you repeat that? Because it sure as hell sounded like she caught you in bed with Carrie. Your ex-wife!”

Closing my eyes, I see hers, every heartbreaking tear that rips my soul from my chest and tosses it into a paper shredder. “It’s not what you think, man,” I start.

“Then what is it?”

Sighing deeply, I drop down onto a chair on my deck. The waves are bigger tonight, slamming into the wet sand with force. “I think she drugged me.” Then I tell him the entire story. I start with how we confessed our love before she left to go be with Meghan, and ended with her finding me the next morning.

“And you have no recollection of anything?”

“Not a fucking thing. A few pieces have come back, but not all of it.” I take a drink of water, wishing it were something a hell of a lot stronger. But I told myself that I would not get drunk, even though that was my first thought. Instead, I make sure I’m with it in case she returns any of my texts or phone calls.

“Have you talked to either of them?”

“I’ve called a million times, but she isn’t answering. She called in sick from school. And I’m afraid if I’m face-to-face with Carrie that I might do something that lands me behind bars for the rest of my life.”

Dylan is quiet for a few minutes, obviously deep in thought. He’s always been the reasonable one, the one most levelheaded, so I let him work it out and wait.

“You need Carrie to confess.”

“And you think it’ll be easy? I mean, it’s not like she’s going to willingly tell me that she fucking drugged me and set everything up so AJ would find us in bed together.”

“True,” he replies, but I pick up on the underlying humor in his voice. “That’s why you need to scare her.”

“What?”

“Hear me out. You remember who is coming to town this weekend, right? That’s actually the reason I was calling. Mom was making sure you didn’t need any help with setting up,” he says.

“What does he have to do with this?” I ask, clearly not following the direction of his plan.

 

“Who better to scare the crap out of Carrie than him? He always had that intimidation factor going for him when we were growing up. And he’s a cop,” he points out, the pieces of his plan starting to fall into place. “She doesn’t know him, since he wasn’t able to go to your wedding, and that game last season in St. Louis, where he brought his family to see you, Carrie was off at that resort having work done–I mean she was sick.”

That makes me snort a laugh. I remember that weekend well. She was supposed to accompany me to a game in St. Louis, when she booked a girls’ weekend to some exclusive spa that specialized in nipping, tucking, and enhancements. The whole thing burned my ass because she knew part of my family that I never get to see was going to be there. She made me tell everyone she was sick so no one knew she was having work done.

“But how do we get them together?”

“You take care of getting Carrie to your place. Friday night. Six o’clock. I’ll make sure the rest of the party is there,” Dylan says, his words sounding sinister and mischievous.

“I’m not sure, man,” I say, running my hand through my hair.

“Trust me, Sawyer. You get her there at six and I’ll take care of the rest.”

“Fine,” I grumble, not really looking forward to having Carrie in my house once more. “I need to talk to AJ.”

“Actually, wait,” he says, shocking me.

“What? I can’t wait, the longer I leave her hanging, the worse it’s getting. I need to fix this–”

“I get that, really I do, but is she going to believe you? Just trust me, Soy. She’s not going to believe you until you know for sure, right? You need proof.”

I think of her reaction Sunday morning and how much she probably hates me right now. The thought of her hurting, alone, and not holding her is as unbearable as the memories that haunted my fitful dreams last night. But I think he’s right. I need to have proof that I was set up.

But avoiding her might actually kill me first.

* * *

Of course I ignore his suggestion. Wouldn’t you?

No, I don’t go all crazy ex on her, stalking her every move through a far-reaching telephoto lens. (Admittedly, I consider it.) Instead, I keep doing the little things I’ve been doing to show her that I care. That I love her.

First off, there’s bribery. I’m not above it. I used it to my advantage. I may have gotten voucher tickets to next season’s Nationals games–six games total–for a coworker (the custodian) to have a copy of her classroom key accidentally left on my desk. Every man has a price, and fortunately for me, his price was baseball tickets.

That key granted me access to her room to leave her lattes and sweet treats. This way, there’s no chance of running into each other and upsetting her further. I’d never want to do that at work. It’s hard enough just to be in the same building as her without reaching out or dropping by. It’s even worse when I’m sitting in my little office, deep in the building, down the long, dark hallway behind the gym, and think about Bryce’s classroom being positioned right next to hers. So as much as I want to casually walk by her classroom (five times a day), I don’t want to see her upset anymore.

Could the fact that I’m leaving her coffee and goodies on her desk (with a note each day) be construed as hurting her? Quite possibly. But that’s not my intention. All week, I make sure to tell her one of the many things I love about her, and each day, I end the note with the same thing. I love you. Eternally yours, Sawyer.

So now here we are, Friday, and I’ve managed to make it through the week with very minimal contact. There was one run-in in the teachers’ lounge, resulting in death glares from the school receptionist, Brandy. I also saw her in the gym after school yesterday when she was gearing up for her first cheerleading practice. I sat in my office like a lovesick loser and just soaked in every word she spoke to the girls about teamwork, dedication, and practicing hard.

It was torture.

Like the waiting.

That’s what I’m doing now. Waiting for Carrie to come over so Dylan and I can try to expose her deceptive and drugging ways. I heard the door to my garage open a few minutes ago, letting me know that my brother and cousin are here. The plan was for them to go to my downstairs office and wait, while I pace the living room in anticipation of the she-devil who used to wear my ring.

Finally, I see headlights coming up the drive. She parks in front of the garage, clearly expecting to be staying for a while. Little does she know she’s already overstayed her welcome.

There’s a soft knock on the door. I open it, fake smile plastered on my face, as I let my ex-wife into my home. It literally takes every ounce of patience I have not to unleash six days’ worth of anger and frustration on her. It also takes all of my self-control not to pull back when she leans up on her tiptoes and kisses my lips.

“I missed you,” she coos, wrapping her arms around my waist and pressing her fake tits into my chest.

I’m tense, and I’m sure she feels it. It’s not her arms I want around me, not her lipstick I want smeared on my lips.

“Come in,” I tell her, extracting her body from mine. Her bright white teeth shine with her smile as she gazes up at me with those big hazel fuck-me eyes. She has perfected that look over her career, and I’m ashamed to admit she had it down pat with me too.

In the living room, I go to the coffee table, to the chilled bottle of wine and two glasses. Popping the cork, I pour us each a glass, as she gets comfy on the couch, much like she did last Saturday night. “Are we celebrating something?” she asks when I hand her a glass.

“Sure are. I mean we’re back together, right?” I choke out over the lump in my throat.

“We are,” she coos sweetly, giving me another full wattage smile.

“And I’m glad, too,” I lie. “I mean I am a little confused about how I went from telling AJ how much I loved her one minute and in bed with you just a few hours later,” I add, taking a seat across from her.

“Well, when it’s right, it’s just right, ya know? We were destined to be together.”

“Yeah,” I reply dryly. “It still just doesn’t add up to me. I mean, last I remember, I was fully prepared to take my relationship with AJ to the next level. Then bam,” I say loudly, “I’m back together with you.”

She visibly swallows hard, her wide eyes transforming into little slits. “What are you saying?” she asks.

“Nothing,” I say breezily. “Oh, did I tell you my family’s here? I was going to surprise you, since we’re back together and all, with a visit with everyone.”

“Your family?” she squeaks out.

“Yeah, well, they’ll all be here tomorrow, but my cousin is here tonight. I can’t wait for you to finally meet him,” I say proudly, just as my cousin walks into the room. He’s wearing pressed khakis and a button-down shirt with his police force logo, and his badge and gun are both on his hip. He’s tall and imposing, and makes me smile to myself as Carrie swallows hard again at his appearance.

“Carrie, this is my cousin, Maddox. He’s a cop. An investigator, actually. He’s here on vacation with his family, but there has been some weird reports of druggings lately, so it has turned into a working vacation for him.”

Maddox doesn’t move. Just stands there, his arms crossed firmly over his expansive chest, as he stares down at Carrie. She watches him and seemingly crouches down into the seat cushions a little more. “Druggings?” she chirps, her voice unnaturally high.

“Yeah, druggings. You know, Maddox and I were talking last night and I was telling him all about how I can’t remember anything that happened Saturday night after AJ left. You know, when you were here and I was declaring my undying love for you? Anyway, we were talking and he mentioned that my symptoms sounded just like other cases he’s worked.”

“You were drugged? How horrible!” she declares with a manicured hand to her mouth, her horrified performance clearly securing her an Oscar nomination.

“I know. What’s worse is the only thing I can remember eating or drinking was that beer. The one you got me.” I let my words sink in and watch a flash of fear sweep across her face.

“I’m going to need to take that beer bottle, Sawyer,” Maddox says, keeping his eyes focused solely on my ex-wife.

“Why would I drug you? What if it was AJ? You know, before she left!”

“Could have been,” I concede with a nod. “I mean, she had just confessed her love to me. Nothing says ‘I love you, baby,’ like a roofie.”

“That’s the only plausible explanation,” she gasps, her eyes wide and bouncing back and forth between Maddox and me.

“Actually, I had another scenario in mind,” Maddox says, stepping a bit closer to Carrie. “I think you were actually the one to put the drug in Sawyer’s beer. I think you knew that AJ was coming back in the morning. And I think you set this whole thing up. When I get that bottle from the trash, I have a feeling I’ll find traces of the drug and your fingerprints.”

“You won’t find it! I took the bottle with me when I left!” Carrie hollers, then seeming to realize what she said and covers her open mouth with her hand. “I…I…” her fearful eyes bounce back and forth between the two of us, and she seems to swallow hard. And then she bursts into tears. “I’m so sorry,” she wails, as big crocodile tears slide down her face. “I just thought that if we could spend a little more time together, you’d see that being apart was a mistake.”

“The only mistake was marrying you in the first place. I was one hundred percent faithful to you the entire time we were together, and at the first sign of me struggling with my injury, you jump on the first cock to swing your way,” I seethe at her. She cries harder. “I should press charges.” That gets her attention.

“No, please!” she begs, her wide eyes pleading.

I glare over at her, ready to put this entire scene behind me. “Tell you what, Carrie, you tell us what really happened that night and I won’t press charges.” She seems relieved instantly, yet reluctant to admit just how far she went. “But…you’ll also agree to leave me and AJ alone. No more private investigating, no more showing up in town, and you definitely stay the fuck away from my home.”

After a few moments, she swallows again and nods her head. “Fine.”

“So what happened?” Maddox asks.

“It was just dumb luck that you left the back door open,” she says, nodding at the sliding glass door. “I let myself in when I heard the shower upstairs. I got a beer and slipped some GHB into your drink and waited. I figured AJ was coming back at some point, so I knew I had a small window of opportunity to get you upstairs and in bed.”

“How did you get me naked?” I ask, dumbfounded. It’s not like she could have carried me.

“Well, that was easy. I told you AJ was on her way to your place. You actually stripped on your own and crawled into bed, mumbling about how much you loved her and missed her while she was gone.” Carrie has the decency to look remorseful as she fills in the blanks of Saturday night.

It’s silent for several moments as it all sinks in.

“I think it’s time to go,” Maddox says, taking a step toward Carrie. He pulls his handcuffs out of his utility belt as he motions for her to stand.

“But, wait! You said you wouldn’t press charges! You can’t arrest me,” she begs, crying a fresh wave of tears.

Maddox glances at me, playing the part of bad cop to a T. I stare up at Carrie and watch her squirm. As rewarding as it would be to see her in cuffs and hauled off to jail, that’s not what Maddox is really doing here. In fact, he has no jurisdiction in Jupiter Bay. He’s here merely as a scare tactic. One that I think is working perfectly.

“Let her go,” I tell my cousin, standing up and approaching my ex. “But you’d better hold up your end of the bargain. The first time I see you anywhere near Jupiter Bay or breathe a word about AJ or me, I’ll have Maddox all over your ass for assault, you got it?”

She nods profusely, her wide, tear-stained eyes full of fear and relief.

“Get out of my house and don’t ever come back,” I tell her, turning and giving her my back.

I hear the click of her heels on my floor moments before the door opens and shuts rapidly. A minute later, there’s the distinct sound of a car starting and pulling out of the driveway.

“You know, I was sometimes a little envious that you were playing in the MLB and married to a freaking Victoria’s Secret model, but that was usually was I was elbows deep in a shitty diaper, or trying to wrangle my kids to bed. Now, I’m just kinda glad she didn’t boil your bunny or cut off your balls, man.”

I chuckle at my older cousin, feeling relief for the first time since this entire mess started last weekend. I need to find AJ. I need to explain and beg for forgiveness, for another chance, for her salvation. My heart isn’t whole without her, and I’ll be damned if I’m going to let this second chance at happiness slip through my fingers.

Grabbing my keys, I turn to Maddox, but before I can tell him I’m leaving, movement catches my eye just over his shoulder. Dylan steps out from his hiding place.

With AJ.

She looks like an angel. Her hair is pulled back in a ponytail and her face has very minimal makeup, mostly in an attempt to cover the bags under her eyes and puffy eyelids. She’s wearing well-worn jeans, a Hawks cheerleading sweatshirt, and a look that’s hard to decipher.

But she’s here.

In my living room.

And she’s a vision.