42. Sawyer
Sawyer
L ooking at the jet, I grit my teeth.
I left Annabelle. Not only have I left her, but I had to lie to her.
She can’t know what we’re up to. We need her to act as she normally would, which killed me, because I saw the fear in her eyes when I walked out her door.
She was quick to mask it, acting tough and stoic, as is her nature, but I saw it.
I saw it in Kevin’s eyes as well. Their gazes pierced me straight through the heart, enough to have me almost pulling the pin on the entire thing.
They both understand what happens after I leave, but the sheriff is right; if we want to encourage the perpetrator out of hiding, then this is the only way we can do it.
Now, as I stand on the tarmac at the small Whispers airport, night having fallen, I take a deep breath and force myself to walk up the metal stairs to my jet slowly.
My legs feel like lead, my body begging me to turn around, my mind a mess.
It’s true, I have work to do, a lot of it.
But jumping in my jet and leaving her is the last thing I want.
“All ready, sir?” my pilot asks, and I nod as I look at him from under my brow.
No , I feel like telling him. How can I be ready to leave the woman who I know is my forever in a situation where she could come to harm?
How can I leave those boys? I swallow hard, giving him approval to leave, unable to speak the words.
I look out the window, the dark sky making me feel more trepidation than normal.
As the jet door closes, I pray that the sheriff is in place with his men and can handle it.
Tanner knows something is up. Both he and Connor, along with my brother, Sutton, have been calling every day, and when I said I needed to go to the city, I was surprised they didn’t turn up and give me a black eye themselves.
They weren’t happy, offering their place for Annabelle.
Sutton told me how disappointed he was when I said I was needed in my New York office, putting this plan the sheriff had into place.
While I don’t love it, it does make sense.
Me leaving Whispers and jumping on my jet will bring out the perpetrator and the sheriff and his team can then catch him before I fly straight back here to be with my family.
Doing circles in the air nearby is not my idea of a good time, though. That, and the fact that the sheriff is severely understaffed, yet quietly confident he knows what he’s doing. It leaves me feeling unsettled. But I don’t have much of a choice.
The whole thing makes my muscles constrict and my stomach churn. I left her at the very last moment, after dinner, right before the boys went to bed, not wanting her to be alone all night, yet having to trust the law enforcement that they actually know what they are doing.
“We’ll be at altitude in about fifteen minutes,” the pilot says over the speaker, and I close my eyes as I feel the wheels leave the tarmac, my heart lurching now that I’m no longer on the ground. As we ascend, we cut through the clouds, and my knee bounces as I grab my cell.
I hit the number and wait.
“Anything?” I ask, like I didn’t just call the sheriff ten minutes ago.
“Not yet. You left?”
“I’m in the air,” I tell him.
“I’ll call the minute we have something. I have a feeling it won't be long,” he says, ending the call just like last time, and I grip on to my cell a little harder.
As soon as the seat belt sign is switched off, I’m up, walking to the back of the cabin and pushing open the bathroom door, emptying my stomach. Retching for my penance.
Wiping my mouth, I look at my reflection in the mirror as I turn on the tap, filling my mouth with cold water and splashing it on my face. I feel like a failure, like I’ve let her down. I hold on to the small basin as I move farther and farther away from her.
The sheriff asked me to trust him. Asked me to leave it to them. I have no idea how many men he has or where they’re watching from, but I need to try to take solace in the fact that their eyes are on Annabelle.
I walk back to my seat, my knee jumping, adrenaline pumping, and I pull at my shirt collar.
Still wearing a fucking suit, the whole thing feels restrictive for the first time in my entire working life.
I rip off my tie and pull the jacket from my frame, throwing them on the seat next to me, undoing the top few buttons of my shirt, needing air.
I grab a bottle of water, drinking the entire thing, then I look at my watch. We’re circling at about an hour out of Whispers, still close, but too far away for my liking. It’s almost been an hour and a half since I left Annabelle’s place. I roll my neck, releasing a groan from how uneasy I am.
Looking down at my lap, I take in another deep breath before my eyes spot something. I look closer, the sparkle on my leg flashing me in the light, before I see another and another. Noah’s glitter spray remnants shimmer on my suit pants brightly, and my jaw twitches with emotion.
I can’t do it. I can’t do it anymore. I jump up from my seat and stalk through the jet, straight to the cockpit.
“Sir?” the copilot asks, looking up, surprised to see me. I never disrupt them when they fly.
“Turn back around,” I grit out, and his brow furrows.
“Sorry? What?” he clarifies. We’re meant to circle for another hour, but I can’t wait that long.
“Back to Whispers. Now!” I bark, adrenaline rushing through me, panic now building, wanting to get back there right away.
“Yes, sir,” he says, nodding quickly. “Everything alright, sir?”
“No, everything is not fucking alright,” I seethe. I shouldn’t. It isn’t their fault, and I mutter an apology before I walk back to my seat.
It was a stupid idea. I can’t leave her. It’s like leaving a lamb at the slaughter. She needs me, she relies on me, she trusts me. I can’t let her down.
I sit in my seat, and the jet makes a sharp turn around, cutting through the night sky, nothing but black as far as the eye can see, and I pray I’m not too late.