SAWYER

It’s been over twenty-four hours since the paramedics took Jenkins off Aden’s boat. As the sun sinks into the Pacific Ocean so does a little of the hope that I’ll ever hear from Aden again.

I thought for sure he’d call last night. That he’d apologize for being so cold. That he’d blame it on his concern for Jenkins and then follow that up with an update to let me know the old man was doing better. That he’d suffered from some benign medical thing and would make a full recovery.

I’ve waited for that call.

It never came.

The good news is I got a lot of work done at Celia’s place. I wrapped and packed fragile items and took a box to the local Goodwill. I’m still amazed at how little she held on to her past. I couldn’t find a single photo of anyone in our family, not even a keepsake like the first-place prize she won at the pie-eating contest when we were twelve. Everyone in town was amazed someone so small could eat so much. It was a crowning moment for Celia. I was proud to watch it all from the sidelines.

Clearly our memories mean more to me than they do to her.

I wrap the Mexican-style blanket tighter around my shoulders.

Realistically I’ve got a few more days of packing and then I’ll be done.

That’s all Aden has to do is ignore me for that little amount of time and sooner than he even realizes I’ll disappear from his life forever.

A door to one of the cottages slams shut and it gets my attention. I turn and blanch when I see Brice headed my way. Trying my hardest to smile through the pain in my chest, I manage to slide my Celia mask into place.

The fact that it’s getting easier and easier should worry me more than it does.

“Hey, I saw you standing out here alone and thought I’d come keep you company.” His grin is a little shaky and he seems to lack the confidence he had the first night we met.

“Yeah, I’m just soaking up the last few sunsets before I head back.” I’m a little surprised he’s keeping a good foot of space between us, maybe the inner Sawyer is showing through more than I thought and he’s decided Celia’s not his type.

He stares ahead at the waves, then peeks over at me from the corner of his eye. “You and Sergeant Psycho, huh?”

I jerk my gaze to his.

“It’s no secret. I saw him leaving your place early in the morning.”

“Oh . . .” I go back to staring out at the ocean, trying desperately to figure out how Celia would respond in this situation. It doesn’t take a genius to see that Brice isn’t unfazed by my . . . er. . . . Celia being with Aden, so what does that mean?

“It’s cool, I mean, it’s not cool, but I understand. What we had wasn’t exclusive.” He sniffs, not like he’s sad, but more like he’s trying to act more unaffected than he is. “Just . . . be careful, okay?”

“I don’t know what you mean. Aden and I are just fooling around.” I want to bite back the words as soon as they leave my mouth. Fooling around? What we have is so much more than that, or at least, it is to me.

He shrugs, not looking completely convinced, but goes back to studying the ocean as silence stretches between us. After a couple of minutes, he blows out a breath. “If you’re here on the Fourth, we’ll all be down at the Breakers Bar celebrating. You bring Aden and maybe he’ll let me buy you a going-away drink.” His eyebrows are raised in a boyish way I think Celia would’ve fallen for instantly.

“I’d like that, thank you.”

He leans in and I tense, fearing he’s going to wipe all memories of Aden clean with one of his brain-scrambling kisses, but presses a soft kiss to my cheek instead. “I’ll see ya around.”

“Yeah, see ya.”

He shoves his hands in his pockets and walks away and my heart aches a little at what Celia’s lost. Maybe Brice would’ve one day been my brother-in-law. He and my sister really would have the cutest babies. I’m strangled in sadness at the thought of Cece losing her chance to be a mother, a wife, a grandmother—life is so fucking unfair.

Afraid I’m going to start crying, I turn to head back to Celia’s cottage when I see Mrs. Jones staring over at Aden’s uncle’s place.

For a split second I panic thinking she’s staring over there because Aden is there, but from a quick glance I see the place is still dark and looks just as abandoned as it did before. “Everything okay?”

She eyes Cal’s cottage, her arms shaking with the effort. “Oh, yes, hi there, I’ve been trying to call Aden, there’s something wrong with my television.”

“I haven’t seen him.”

She frowns, the wrinkles around her mouth intensifying. “Oh, dear. He’s not answering my calls.”

I try to ignore the sinking in my chest at the reason Aden wouldn’t be answering his phone and cross the few yards that separate our front steps. “Maybe I can help?”

Her white hair is curled to perfection around her face, but when she turns to look at the cottage again I see the back is completely flat, probably the result of sitting in a high-back chair. Her hand is curled around the banister, her thin skin showcasing blue protruding veins as she braces her weight as best she can. “I don’t want to be a bother.”

“It’s not a bother at all. As a matter of fact, I could use something to do.” Anything that’ll take my mind off worrying about Jenkins and obsessing over Aden’s brushoff.

She grins and struggles to get herself turned around so I hop up and loop my arm under hers for support. “Thank you.”

I push open the door with my free hand and guide the woman into the living space of the small cottage. It doesn’t look any different than the others except for the décor that speaks of a long life lived in the tiny house.

“I don’t know what happened, it just stopped working.” She pats my hand and I release her to sit in an oversized chair that’s just feet in front of an old television.

“I’m sure it’s something I can figure out.” The screen on her TV has the green, red, and blue bars on it. I pick up the remote on the food tray to the side of her chair.

She grunts as she adjusts in the well-used and sagging seat. Her eyes almost disappear under her paper-like skin. “How’s everything going over there?”

Other than the fact that I’m living my sister’s life and screwing everything up by falling for a guy who doesn’t know who I really am? “Pretty good.”

“I don’t mean to pry.” She waves me off. “Mind your own business, Mary.”

“It’s all right. I don’t mind.” I try not to stare, but can smell the sickly-sweet stench of rotting food from her messy kitchen. “Mary?” I kneel down to look her in the eye. “I’m trying to kill some time and I’d be happy to clean up a little around here if you’d be okay with that?”

Her blue eyes twinkle as if my offer is making her emotional, but there’s a hint of embarrassment there too. “That’s not necessary. You have more important things to do than tidy up after an old woman.”

“I really don’t. What I do have is a killer sense for organization and cleaning is my drug of choice.” I turn toward the TV and click through the channels manually, getting snow and static on every one. “You’d be doing me a huge favor.”

“That’s sweet, but you— Oh! You fixed it!” She grasps the remote and hits the buttons with a bony finger.

“I think you must’ve accidentally changed the channel on the television rather than the cable box.” I push up and pat her on the shoulder. “I do it all the time.”

I move into her kitchen, noting that she didn’t really give me permission to tidy up but I’ll go ahead and start and see how far I get before she tells me to stop. As it turns out, Mary has a family member that drops in once a week with groceries and clearly hasn’t realized just how bad off she is because there’s a ton of food to make anything from lasagna to tacos, but the only proof that she’s even eating is a trash can full of frozen dinner boxes.

After I finish the dishes, disinfect the counters and sink, and mop the floor, we’ve watched the evening news and an episode of Dick Van Dyke on some vintage rewind channel. Mary seems to have forgotten I’m even here as she dozes off and on in front of the TV. I throw together lasagna and while it cooks I sit in a metal folding chair watching Leave It to Beaver to the tune of Mary snoring.

I check my phone obsessively for missed calls, but outside of a few texts from my assistant back home there’s nothing. When the buzzer sounds that the lasagna is done, I pull it out and head to Celia’s for small Tupperware so I can divide the dish into single serving pieces and pop them in the fridge. It’s just after eight o’clock when I run out of things to occupy me at Mary’s. I place a slice of lasagna on her table along with a fresh glass of water and gently wake her.

She blinks and after a moment her eyes take focus on me. “Celia, I’m so sorry. Did I miss the end of Dick Van Dyke?”

I grin at the worry I hear in her voice. “You did, but it didn’t come as a surprise that they weren’t actually married so they decided to go get married that night but couldn’t because they didn’t have a babysitter.”

“Oh, dear . . .” She giggles.

“I’m sure they’ll rerun it.”

She spots the food. “You cooked?”

“I hope that’s okay. I put the rest in your fridge. You should have enough for a few more dinners and some lunches.”

“Smells delicious.” Her shaky hand grabs the fork to dive in. “Won’t you join me?”

“I can’t. It’s getting late and I have to finish up at my sis . . .” I clear my throat. “Have some things to finish up at home.”

She takes one small bite and exhales out her nose. “This is good.”

“I’m glad you like it.” I cross to the door. “Thanks for helping me kill some time.”

“Thank you, honey.” She doesn’t even look at me, but continues to stuff her fork with lasagna. “Such a treat.”

“If you need anything I’ll be right next door, Mary.”

I head out into the night and because there isn’t a cloud in the sky, the moon paints a path of light over the ocean so solid it almost looks as if it could be walked on.

As I’m heading up the stairs to Celia’s place my phone buzzes in my pocket. My heart leaps in my chest when I see it’s from my mom. Not Aden.

“Hey, Mom.”

“What happened, you sound exhausted?”

I slump onto the bed and blow out a long breath. “Nothing. I’m just about finished here. I think I’ll be able to get home in the next couple days as long as the movers can pick this stuff up.”

“Not a day too soon.”

I squint at the weird tone of my mom’s voice. “What do you mean?”

She huffs out a breath in a way that makes me think she’s trying to choose her words wisely. My pulse instantly pounds. “Celia’s vision is getting worse. I don’t know, I’m just worried.”

“I talked to her the other day. She said she was fine, that she felt better than she has in months.” Leave it to my mom to overreact and see things that aren’t there.

“She puts on a show for you—”

“Mom.” I sit up. “Celia doesn’t fake it for anyone, least of all me. She’s fine.”

“Sawyer—”

“Can I talk to her?” She’ll prove my mom wrong, and once I tell her Mom’s freaking out she’ll say something to make us all laugh and set Mom’s mind at ease.

“She’s sleeping.”

“Oh, well, I’ll call her tomorrow and check in, but I’m sure you’re blowing this out of proportion. You said the meds make her tired, and she’s probably bored out of her mind being stuck in bed all day.” There’s a throbbing in my neck that matches my beating heart. “Have you thought about getting her out of the house? Maybe if everyone stopped treating her like she was already dead she’d start feeling like she had more to live for.” I’m practically seething now, the combination of worry for Jenkins, Aden’s rejection, my mom’s overprotective doting, and I can’t hear Cece’s voice to see if she’s okay and it has me wanting to punch something. And I’m not a violent person.

Ever.

“Sawyer, just finish up soon and get home, okay?”

I grip the phone so tightly I’m afraid it’ll crack. “That’s the plan.”

We say goodbye and I lie there for a few minutes wondering what the hell just happened. I’m spinning out of control and can’t seem to find a level head.

I want to talk to Aden. He’s been through so much, experienced loss, he’d know exactly what to say to help me deal with this, if only I could tell him the truth and lean on his strength. But I know if he knew the truth he’d hate me.

Still, just being around him would be enough. He makes me forget all I’m not and all I’m pretending to be. With him I’m someone different, not Celia or Sawyer, but just . . . me.

I’ve never missed a man this much.

Why won’t he just call!

I toss the phone to the rickety bedside table followed by the sound of something small hitting the hardwood floor. I push up on my elbow and right there staring up at me like an omen from my sister is that damn quarter.

Heads up.

Call him.

“I can’t call him,” I whisper to no one. “I’ll seem desperate.”

You are.

Am not!

For him, you most certainly are!

I sit up and stare at the coin. I chew my lip and grab my phone. If I call him he could just ignore it. Even Mary mentioned he’s not answering his phone.

I could just show up at the marina.

Jenkins was my friend too.

It wouldn’t seem weird for me to check in on him to see if he’s okay.

I swipe the coin and with a deep breath I toss it in the air.

It hits the ground with a loud thump behind me as I head out the door to confront Aden.