Chapter 6
T he small room is packed with my sister’s family and closest friends. Most of the latter consists of people she’s met while working because, aside from Gemma, she doesn’t go out of her way to make friends. Like her best friend, she’d rather spend a Saturday night in pajamas, watching trashy shows.
Ryder takes a seat on the stool next to mine and tips his beer against the neck of my own. “So, is this your sister’s favorite place or what?”
“Yeah, something like that, I guess,” I say as we wait for Gemma and my sister to show up to Saylor’s surprise going-away party.
“Sweet. I like it. Can’t believe this place is so close to the stadium and we’ve never been here.” He chuckles, looking around. “Hell, I’d never even heard of it.”
“Me neither, aside from when my sister told me she was here,” I utter, taking another swig from my beer and knowing I’m going to switch to water after.
My sister is going to get fucked up—I know she is—and I want to make sure she gets home safely.
Gemma too.
Even though he isn’t that close to my sister, Ryder rode with me tonight to this small dive bar. It’s a place Saylor and the other hospital staff go after a long shift and where Gemma chose to have my sister’s going-away party. Which brings me back to how I even found out about this damn party.
A few days ago, a blocked number called my phone. Normally, I wouldn’t answer, but given that Gemma was back in town and seemed sketchy as fuck the few times I’d seen her, I felt some pull to pick it up. Turned out, it was Gemma, blocking the number before calling so that I couldn’t contact her. Not sure it mattered much, seeing as, after today, she’ll be my roommate anyway. She gave me a very generic invitation and told me to invite my family and whoever else I thought would want to help send Saylor off before she left for South Carolina. Before I could ask her how she was, she hung up the phone.
After Saylor told me that Gemma had agreed to move into my place for the time being, she also said that my house was big and there was “no damn reason” that Gemma couldn’t have her own wing. That wasn’t exactly what I’d had in mind when I learned she’d be shacking up with me, but I also don’t want to piss off my little sister—or Gemma Jones for that matter.
Especially now that she’s ice cold. Shit, even her eyes are dead.
“They just pulled in!” Scarlett, my sister’s colleague, calls after peeking out the window. “Everyone, get ready!”
“Does your sister like this type of shit?” Ryder mumbles. “The whole, like … attention type of shit.”
I snort at his question because that’s really fucking hard to answer when talking about my sister. She does things that contradict each other. She also does shit that’s out of character sometimes. For instance, usually, Saylor doesn’t date. She’s a bigger player than most of my teammates could dream of being. But not long ago, for a short time, she dated debatably one of the biggest douchebags in the entire NHL, who also happened to be one of Ryder’s best friends. Well, he was one of Ryder’s best friends, and now, Ry can’t stand him either.
“Let’s see … aside from those she cares for as a nurse, she genuinely doesn’t like people that much. She could spend a month at home—alone or with her best friend, Gemma—and not leave and be perfectly content. But when she’s out and about, everyone thinks she’s hilarious and the life of the party.” I shrug. “Fucking confusing, I know. But that’s my sister for you. Oh, and she’s weirdly obsessed with Disney, so that right there makes her a nutjob in itself.”
Suddenly, I frown, turning toward him. “Why are you asking about my sister anyway, dipshit?”
“No reason. I just, you know, don’t know her that well. When Rowan was dating her, I think I only saw them a few times together. Any time I’ve spent with her, your ass has been around,” he says, shrugging his shoulders. When he’s met with my harsh stare, he points to the door. “Oh, look, they’re walking in.”
I’m still weirded out that he seems so curious about my sister, especially after knowing her for all the years we’ve both been Sharks. But I’m more annoyed that he mentioned her shithead ex’s name around me because I hate that fucker. Even if he and Ryder used to be best friends, I make it known that I can’t stand him.
When my eyes look toward the door and I take in the angel walking into the bar, any thought I previously had leaves my brain, and all that’s left is thinking about how fucking beautiful Gemma Jones is.
Even in a dive bar packed with bodies, it’s his stare I feel on me when I first walk in. It’s suffocating and debilitating.
And annoying as hell because my skin prickles in a way it shouldn’t.
I glance to the place I feel his eyes coming from, and sure enough, he’s walking toward where his sister and I are, but his eyes remain on me. I hate how my body—even after all I’ve been through lately—betrays me and melts purely from his gaze. My heart speeds up, and my scalp prickles. He shouldn’t be allowed to watch me the way that he is.
What gives Smith the right after all this time? And after everything he’s done?
If he’s staring like this now, around all these people, I can’t even imagine living alone with him. He’s only doing it to toy with me—I know it.
Since we were just kids, it’s been the same old story. Girl is obsessed. Boy doesn’t feel the same. I might have fallen for him long ago, but this time around … he’s not fooling me.
He already fooled me once, and I’ll never let that happen again.
Saylor turns toward me, throwing her arm around my shoulders. “You bitch! You planned a surprise party? We hate surprises!”
Pulling my head back slightly, I give her an amused look. “No, Sails. I hate surprises; you secretly love them.”
A mischievous grin tugs at her lips, and she rolls her eyes upward, smiling bigger. “Guilty,” she singsongs, making me laugh .
Saylor has always put on an act, pretending she’s like me and she hates to be the center of attention. But the truth is, deep down, she thrives on it. I’ve always joked she should have skipped being a nurse and gone straight to Broadway because they’d likely hire her on sight. She’s bubbly, outgoing, animated, and everything I’m not anymore.
Now? I’m basically a rock in someone’s driveway. I’m just here.
But I wasn’t going to let the shit show that is my life stop me from giving my best friend the farewell party I knew she’d want.
Giving her a squeeze, I wink. “Go celebrate, sister. Tonight is about you.”
“Are you going to be okay?” she whispers, her eyes widening.
“I’ll be fine,” I promise her. “If I can’t socialize for a few measly hours of my life for my best friend, then we have a problem.” I give her a reassuring smile. “I’m okay. Go visit all these people who came out just for you.”
Her eyes gloss over, and she hugs me again.
“I love you,” she murmurs, kissing my cheek. “I’m going to go now before I turn into a little bitch, crying at my own party.”
Releasing me, she disappears into the crowd, leaving me alone, wondering how I’ll pass the time tonight. The majority of the people here are work friends of hers, and there are only a few I’m familiar with.
“Need a drink?” a deep voice says from behind me.
Turning slowly, I take in a handsome man, who must be at least six foot two with a thick head of dark brown hair and eyes so blue that they freaking twinkle.
“You’ve gotta be Portland’s own version of Grey’s Anatomy ’s McDreamy.” The words come out before I can stop them, and I cover my mouth instantly.
For a split second, he stares at me, almost as if he can’t believe I just said that. In my defense, my ex-fiancé kept me on a short leash, and I guess I forgot how not to be a complete weirdo out in public.
Suddenly, he starts laughing, and because I already want to crawl out of my skin, I laugh along with him.
Saylor told me there was a hot doctor she worked with who was friends with her and a lot of their coworkers. She wasn’t kidding when she said he was attractive either. Lucky for the girls in here, hoping he’ll take them home. But I have no interest at all in dating or hooking up with anyone at this point in time.
Heck, maybe ever.
When his laughing stops, he holds his hand out. “I’m Daniel.”
Shaking his hand, I raise an eyebrow. “What’s your last name, Daniel?” I ask, proud of myself for conversing with someone right now.
“Hawthorne,” he says, the corner of his lips turning up.
“I knew it.” I bob my head up and down, dropping my hand from his. “I knew you’d have some cool, crazy last name.”
“To keep up with Derek Shepperd, I’d have to, right?” he says, oozing so much confidence.
I almost feel bad he’s wasting any one-liners on me because—let’s be real—the real McDreamy could walk in here, and I’d still have to pass.
I mean, if McSteamy came in … all bets might be off though.
“I suppose so.” I laugh.
A few seconds pass, and once the laughter between us dies down, I’m ready to get the hell out of here. A sudden pull in my gut tells me I shouldn’t be here tonight. That I shouldn’t be talking to this random man.
As far as a lot of family and friends know … I’m still getting married in a few weeks.
Just as I’m about to tell him I have to make a phone call, clip my toenails, or do anything else to avoid talking more because we had a nice moment—which is over now—I feel a presence next to me. The most annoying thing is that I don’t have to look to know it’s Smith.
“Dr. Dan,” Smith’s voice drawls. “How’s it going? Long time, no see.”
“That’s a good thing, Sawyer.” Daniel smiles, holding his hand out and shaking Smith’s. “Means you’re not showing up in the emergency room to see me.”
Not wanting to give him the full satisfaction of looking at him, I peer at Smith from the corner of my eye to find him half cringing, half grinning as he releases Daniel’s hand.
“Shit, I feel like you just jinxed it, Doc,” he says smoothly before turning his body slightly toward mine, causing my eyes to snap back to the doctor in front of me. “Hey, Gem. Nice job pulling the surprise off for my sister.”
Of course he can’t just leave me alone .
Even though we’re about to be living together in less than twenty-four hours, he still can’t give me one last Smith-free night.
“Thank you,” I say as politely as I can muster up before giving the doctor a curt nod. “If you’ll excuse me, I’m going to go get a drink.”
“Of course. You know what? I’ll actually—” Daniel is cut off mid-sentence by none other than Smith fucking Sawyer.
“I’ll join you. I wanted to talk to you anyway,” Smith says. “Enjoy your night, Doc.”
Daniel looks between the two of us, confused, before sighing and walking away. I spin to face Smith, lifting my brows.
“Really?” I utter. “You’re cockblocking me?”
“Who, me?” He points to his chest. “Nah, Firefly. Wouldn’t dream of it.”
Rolling my eyes, I walk past him and head toward the bar. Finding an empty seat wedged between two people, I gratefully take it.
Smith steps between my stool and the guy to my right, and his voice is deep as two words roll from his lips. “Ryder, move.”
The dude looks at him, perplexed and annoyed, but when he sees me, I don’t miss the way the corner of his lips turn up. Leisurely, he slides off the stool and saunters away, leaving nothing for Smith to do besides sit directly next to me.
As he shifts around to get comfortable, the scent of his deodorant hits my nostrils. If I didn’t know him better, I would think it was cologne. But the thing about Smith Sawyer is, he hates cologne. Lucky for him, his deodorant smells good enough alone.
“There are four empty stools at the other end of the bar, Firefly. Yet you chose to sit in a spot where you thought you could get away from me.”
“Yet here you are,” I mutter, holding my hand up to the bartender when she’s about to walk by.
“What can I get you, sweetie?” she says, leaning forward on the bar.
“Club soda with a lime, please,” I answer.
She moves her sights to Smith. “What about you, handsome?”
“Sprite, please,” he tells her.
I’m a little surprised he isn’t drinking tonight. Because, well, it seems like everyone in here is halfway on their way to being tipsy.
Within a minute, the bartender sets the drinks in front of us. When we each reach for our glass at the same time, the backs of our hands brush together, and an electric sensation rushes up my arm, making my brain prickle.
Wrapping my palm around the cool glass, I quickly pull it toward me and away from his hand, cursing my flesh for still responding to him after all these years.
“So, I figured I’d come to the apartment to help you move your stuff after practice tomorrow. Maybe around noon or so.”
“I don’t need help moving my things,” I mumble, squeezing the lime above my drink and stirring it around.
“Come on. Don’t be like that,” he teases. “Let me help you, Gem. That way, you don’t have to carry and lift all your shit alone.”
“I have one bag, Smith,” I deadpan. “I think I can handle my one bag.”
The second I say the words, I’m embarrassed. How can someone keep their entire life in one bag? Why, by fleeing their home, of course. I didn’t exactly have time to pack or schedule a U-Haul. Or do anything really besides run to Target and buy enough clothes to get me by with the small amount of cash I managed to hide away.
After a moment of silence, I feel him shift slightly beside me.
“Oh, all right. Do you, uh, need a ride? At the very least, I can pick you up and bring you to my place.”
“Your sister is dropping me off on her way out of town.” The words hurt. I’m not ready to say goodbye to Saylor yet.
“All right, well, I guess I’ll just see you when you get there.” He pauses, like he doesn’t know what he should say next. “Is there anything you need me to get?”
“No,” I say quickly before sighing. Glancing at him for a split second, I shrug. “Thanks though.”
He looks like he’s seen a ghost as he stares at me in disbelief because I just said something that wasn’t bitchy.
“You’re welcome. I’d do anything to help you, Gem.” He swallows. “There’s a rocky beach not far from my house. It’s safe to walk to because it’s all in a gated community.” He shifts nervously. “They say there’s a lot of sea glass there. Maybe you could check it out.”
They’re just words, but it melts a teeny-tiny spot in the ice around my heart. Before he betrayed me and left me like I was nothing, he had always been my best friend. And in that month we spent time together as a couple, he was everything to me. He was sexy, smooth, sweet, kind, and swoony.
And then he was gone.
“I don’t really do that anymore,” I utter, trying not to feel some type of way that he still remembers my love for sea glass when I was younger.
That obsession stopped when I got my entire collection thrown at me a year or so ago.
“That’s a shame,” he drawls. “You used to love it.”
I don’t look at him. I can’t—because I’m not willing to let Smith Sawyer thaw away the frosty shield I’ve built up to protect myself. He has the ability to ruin me, just like he did before.
Judging from the way he’s acted since I’ve been in Portland, Smith must know what’s going on with me because he’d never be this easygoing when I’d been nothing but a brat. Maybe Saylor told him—who knows?
Since the second I agreed to this living situation, I’ve considered calling it off and going back to my parents’ house. I owe them an explanation anyway. But my dad just finished cancer treatments last week, and he isn’t feeling that well, I’m sure. The last thing he wants to deal with—or should have to deal with—is me.
Before he got sick, I would have felt safe at home. I’ve always known that my dad, a state trooper, could keep me safe. But now, he’s weaker than he was. He needs to get his strength back before he has me piling my issues on him.
Smith sits next to me, not saying a thing, and I don’t offer any words either. I just sip my club soda, turning every now and then to watch my best friend have the time of her life, and smile through the uncomfortable energy lingering between Smith and me.
If I feel this uneasy now, tomorrow should be super fun.