Chapter 7
“I t’s okay, bud. It’s only your crazy aunt and our friend Gemma,” I tell Storm, my German shepherd, as his ears perk up when a car rolls into the driveway. “Let’s go greet ’em. After all, she’s going to be living here with us, so you’d better be on your best behavior,” I warn him before pulling the front door open.
In true Storm form, he stays right next to me.
Although he looks scary, he’s much more nervous than he is mean. I can see why he’s afraid, considering what the lady at the Humane Society told me about the horrendous things he’d endured before I adopted him. But he trusts me. And since day one of him being with me, I trust him too.
Gemma wasn’t joking when she said she only had a bag to bring with her to my house. And as I watch as she follows my sister up the stairs and onto the porch with her one bag in hand, my heart fucking hurts.
She lived in California for years. Why is one bag all she has to show for it?
She’s on the run, and I know it. But she’s safe now, here with me. And if anyone tries to harm her, she’ll never have to fear them because they’ll be too dead to hurt her ever again.
My sister is crying, and though Gemma is doing her best to keep it all in—I’m sure it’s to not make my sister feel bad for leaving—sadness fills every inch of her face.
“Hey, Stormy,” Saylor says.
Storm wags his tail but remains next to me, eyeing Gemma.
Holding my hand out, I try to take her bag from her to set it in the house. At first, she only tightens her grip, not wanting to let me help her, but eventually, she hands it off.
I glance out at my sister’s small SUV, which is loaded down with boxes and totes. She works hard, but living on her own in downtown Portland isn’t cheap. So, after paying her rent and utilities, she didn’t have much left for a reliable car.
“I gotta show you something in the garage,” I say before stepping out onto the porch with Storm staying at my side. “Come on.”
As we walk down the porch steps and over to the outside entrance of my attached garage, I look back at my sister as I push the door open, wanting to see her face when she looks at what’s inside. A white Range Rover with a huge-ass pink ribbon on top.
Her hands fly to her mouth, and her eyes grow as wide as saucers. “Wait … what?” Saylor whispers. “What is—”
“It’s your going-away present since I’m happy you’re moving to another state and away from me,” I say with a shrug. “I’m joking. I’m proud of you for taking a chance and moving to South Carolina to save more people’s lives, Sails.”
The truth is, I wish I were more like my sister. Being a nurse is what makes up every fiber of her being. When a holiday needs to be worked, she’s the hospital’s girl. If someone is sick and needs their shift covered, they know they can call Saylor.
She was made to be a nurse.
She throws her arms around me, weeping loudly. “Are you serious, Smith?” Her voice is muffled against my shoulder. “You got me my dream car?”
“It’ll get you out of Maine quicker than your piece of shit,” I mumble before hugging her back. “Let’s get your shit moved from your car into this one so you can hit the road.”
“What’s going to happen to this car?” she says, looking back at it sadly.
“Dad is going to pick it up sometime when he passes through.” I chuckle, knowing my dad will probably fix it up and keep it for some odd reason because that’s how he is.
Giving me another hug, she releases me and wipes her cheeks. She looks behind me at Gemma. “Can you believe this?” She sniffles, darting her eyes back to mine. “And all this time, I called you an asshole. I take back all those awful things I said.”
“Wow, unreal,” I scoff.
“It’s gorgeous, Sails,” Gemma says, and I can hear the smile in her voice. “If anyone deserves their dream ride, it’s you. ”
Truth be told, I wanted to get Gemma a car too. I’ve noticed she’s driven with my sister everywhere, and I haven’t seen another car at my sister’s apartment. I know Gemma too well though, and she likes independence. Not to mention, she still fucking hates me. If I got her a car, she’d probably set it on fire. So, instead, I decided I’d slowly convince her to use my other truck. What the fuck do I need two for anyway?
“Well, what are we waiting for?” Saylor says, wiping her eyes with her sleeve. “Let’s get this bitch loaded up!”
With Storm hot on my heels, I follow Smith through his house, trying to nonchalantly check everything out because it’s stunning. It has a real rustic farmhouse feel, which makes me a little annoyed because it was always me who said I wanted a modern farmhouse one day, not him.
“There are three spare bedrooms, and I had beds and furniture delivered for all of them, so you can pick whichever one you like.” He stops at the first one, keeping my bag in his hand. “And behind door number one,” he says cheesily, stepping just inside the door.
Suddenly, Storm rushes around me to be closer to him.
“They all have their own bathroom, but this one also has a Jacuzzi tub. So, there’s that,” he states. It doesn’t come off like he’s bragging, but more just trying to give me all the details to help me make the right choice. “The other two have huge walk-in showers though.”
“I’ve never been much of a bath girl.” I shrug. “Showers are better.”
It wasn’t meant to come off flirty, but when the words leave my mouth, that’s exactly how they sound. His eyes twinkle with a bit of amusement, but he doesn’t say anything.
Everything inside of me is screaming to say something bitchy, to secure that shield around my heart to keep myself safe from this man. But then there’s that voice in my head, telling me that Smith is the least of my concerns compared to the other monsters out there .
Saylor hit the road ten minutes ago, and now, it’s just Smith and me in this big house. I’m beginning to realize that no matter how large this place is, it’s still going to feel suffocating when it’s only him and me.
Once I’m inside the room, Smith steps back, leaning against the doorframe, and the first thing I notice is the tall fan standing in front of the bed, already running. The sound itself sends a feeling of comfort over my body, and I sigh.
“Well, that right there has me sold,” I say, pointing to the fan. Because it could be negative twenty outside, and I’m still going to run a fan when I sleep.
“There’s one in all three of the guest rooms,” he says casually. “I wasn’t sure which room you’d choose, so I figured that’d be easier.” He stretches his arm downward, and his fingertips scratch Storm’s head. “I know how much you need a fan on to sleep, and I know how grumpy you are when you don’t get sleep. I figured I’d cover all my bases.”
His words almost send me stumbling back, and for a second, my brain doesn’t send a message to my lips, allowing me to respond. It’s been years upon years since our time together. Did he really remember something as insignificant as my need for a fan to be running while I slept?
Here’s the side of Smith I always knew before he blindsided me. Growing up, I had seen him date and sleep with a lot of random girls and toss them away like nothing. And while I thought that was gross, he never treated me that way in the short time we were together.
Until he did, I suppose.
“Um … this one is fine.” I clear my throat awkwardly. “Thanks.”
For the first time since being back around him, I let my eyes stay on his for a little longer than usual, as if trying to read him like a book. I don’t understand why he’s jumping through hoops to make me comfortable when, before, he didn’t even think I deserved a proper goodbye. Maybe his guilt has finally caught up to him, and he’s trying to settle his conscience.
“Come on,” he says, tilting his head toward the hallway. “You have to see the other two. I mean, you said it yourself; you’re more of a shower girl. You’ve got to at least check out the showers in the other bathrooms.”
I let my eyes drink him in for too long, admiring the lazy way he leans against the doorframe and his crooked smile. I haven’t taken the time to look at his tattoos yet. All I know is, when he left all those years ago, he didn’t have any of them. That’s not the only thing that’s changed either. His arms aren’t just different because they are covered in tattoos. They are different because they are bigger than they were when he was eighteen.
Much bigger.
Shaking my head subtly at myself, I blink a few times before I walk toward him. “Lead the way,” I say softly and follow him out of the room with Storm trailing close behind.
As Storm comes next to me, I smile, reaching out and petting him. “Hi, boy,” I whisper.
When his eyes meet mine, it’s almost like he looks directly into my soul.
When I first got here, I was a little intimidated when I saw Storm sitting next to Smith. He’s a huge German shepherd who appears to be pure muscle, and I guess I expected him to be kind of, well, scary. But when he licks my hand and nudges his wet nose against it, I know that I judged a book by its cover because this dog … he’s sweet. I can see it in his eyes. Not to mention his tall ears, one of which folds down slightly.
“All right, door number two,” Smith chimes. “I feel like I’m on The Price Is Right or some shit.”
A smile tugs at my lips, though I try to fight it. Luckily, I win the war and remain stoic as I trail behind him into the second bedroom. And as promised, another large fan is propped up at the end of the bed.
I gaze around the room, looking at the curtains and the dressers. Like the other room, there’s even a comforter on the bed. Only that one was white, and this one is gray.
When I see the bathroom door open, I peek inside and admire the huge walk-in shower with its beautiful, modern tiles.
“That’s nice,” I whisper, nodding. “Better than a tub for sure.”
“All right, let’s go see what’s behind door number three,” he says in his best game-show-host voice, waving his hand toward the door.
“Did you save the best for last?” I ask, walking past him and letting our eyes connect for a second.
“You’ll see, I guess.” He grins before leading me directly across the hall.
And I guess I was right about him saving the best for last because this one … it’s my favorite, even before I see the bathroom. The positioning of the windows brings in so much more light than the others. Th e dormer has the coziest little nook in the center of it, and right away, I can see myself studying there once I get a couch or chair. Or maybe even one of those plushy chaise lounges.
If I ever have the courage to finish my degree, that is.
“I think I’ll leave this here,” Smith says, breaking me from my thoughts of making his dormer my new hangout spot. When I look at him, he seems satisfied as he sets my bag down. “Seems like this might be the one?”
I glance around the room, nodding subtly. “This is the one,” I whisper before walking to the bed and sitting on the edge of it. “This is perfect. Thanks for letting me crash.” I pause, twisting my fingers nervously together. “It’s only temporary. A month, two tops, and then I’ll get out of your hair.”
In a perfect world, that’d be true. But I don’t know what’s going to happen. I have no idea what the next week holds. Who am I kidding? I don’t even know what the next day is going to bring.
“Stay as long as you need to, Gem.” His words have no judgment, and they aren’t laced with anything negative either. He’s only telling me the truth. “You’ve always been like family,” he says, offering a small yet reassuring smile.
Even though his words were meant to be comforting and sweet, it sends a twang of hurt to my chest. Because maybe that’s all I ever was to Smith Sawyer—something like a little sister.
“Thanks,” I whisper, glancing around awkwardly and hating that the silence is damn near suffocating me.
When I turn my attention back to him once more, our eyes connect for too long, making my entire body feel fuzzy, and I quickly pull my eyes away.
“I’ll leave you to it, I guess,” he says, almost like he’s asking a question. “Come on, Storm.”
He whistles to the dog, yet I don’t hear any toenails against the floor. When I glance over at where he stands, Storm is watching me. When he sees me staring at him, his tail begins to wag, and he barrels toward the bed.
Leaping up beside me, he nudges his nose under my arm.
“Oh, hey, buddy.” I laugh, scratching his head. “Is this your bedroom? Do you want it back?”
“Yeah, right.” Smith all but snorts, drawing my gaze back to him. “That asshole is a bed hog in my room. I even bought him one of those fancy dog beds, and he still gets all up in my shit. ”
The way his eyes light up when he talks about Storm proves the dog means a lot to Smith. He called him an asshole, but it’s obvious he loves him.
“How long have you had him?” I scratch underneath Storm’s neck, and his leg starts kicking. “Is that your spot, bud?” I whisper, smiling.
“About ten months.”
His answer surprises me because Storm doesn’t look all that young.
Before I can ask, Smith solves my curiosity by continuing on. “A few of the guys from the team did a fundraiser for the Humane Society, and when we all went down to help gather donations, I saw that big meatball. He was missing hair in some spots and was in real rough shape from his prior housing situation. He was neglected and beaten pretty badly, too, but I could tell right away he was a good dog just by the way he looked at me.” He pauses, and my eyes float back to him. “The funny thing is, he usually doesn’t like anyone besides me. I mean, he isn’t mean or anything like that, but he acts nervous around most people.”
On instinct, I look down at Storm, fighting back the tears. His honey-brown eyes stare up into mine, and it’s like we understand each other. We both were hurt at the hands of someone we loved. I’m sure Storm asked himself what he’d done to deserve the treatment he received. I asked myself that too. I bet he wondered if he was a bad dog. I often felt like a bad human.
As if sensing I need a minute, Smith clears his throat. “I’ve got some emails and calls to respond to. I’ll let you settle in and all that. How about I get us takeout for dinner? We can DoorDash it.”
“That sounds nice.” I choke the words out, forcing them to come out as normal as I possibly can.
“Storm, are you coming with me?” he calls out, but when the dog doesn’t move, I hear him breathe out a laugh. “All right then. Guess you got yourself a buddy, Gem.”
“I’ll take it,” I whisper, running my hand across his beautiful fur.
Seconds later, Smith is gone, and it’s just me and my new best friend.
When I fled California a few weeks ago, I never imagined that my road would lead me here, back to Smith Sawyer. But this time, I won’t let myself get hurt.