Chapter 6
CHAPTER
SIX
PRESTON
The apartment is dark when I push open the front door. I pause for a moment, wondering whether I’ve accidentally broken into someone else’s unit.
It’s late. Way past midnight. Sawyer should be here. Unless he’s on his way to the lab to find me—it wouldn’t be the first time I’ve fallen asleep in the lab only to have Sawyer show up and drag me home.
I pull my phone out and check for messages from Sawyer. There are usually at least a few before he escalates to physical measures. But there aren’t any. Weird.
I drop my bag on the floor and shrug out of my jacket, letting it drop on top of the bag. I move through the kitchen and into the living room, not bothering to turn on lights as I go.
There’s a big couch that fills our living room, one of those three-sided, U-shaped things with an equally large ottoman in the middle.
On the opposite wall is a huge TV surrounded by bookshelves.
They hold my textbooks, the thrillers Sawyer sometimes likes to read, and random stuff Madison’s found for us over the years.
The only illumination comes from the city lights filtering in through the windows.
I sink down into a corner of the couch, pulling my feet up and stuffing a pillow between my knees and chest to rest my chin on. I wrap an arm around my shins while my other hand holds my phone, screen on, the time in big white numbers. No messages. No notifications.
The apartment is so quiet. Sirens from emergency vehicles blare in the distance, but here it’s eerily still.
No footsteps, no sound of someone else moving around.
Is it always like this? How come I’ve never noticed it before?
I sink a little deeper into the couch and curl a little harder into myself.
Suddenly this place feels so big, so empty. It’s never felt that way before, even when I’m home by myself, even late at night. Why does it feel so echo-y now?
Where’s Sawyer? The apartment won’t feel so creepy if he’s here with me. I check my phone again—nothing.
Maybe he went out with the guys at the gym and forgot to tell me? He doesn’t usually forget things like that, though.
Or maybe he’s out with Fitz.
The mere thought sends my heart racing and makes my stomach twist violently. I know Fitz went to the gym today. I know his plan was to meet Sawyer there. Are they still there now? What are they doing together? Are they working out? Getting drinks? Or something else?
I blink as my frontal lobe goes static-y for a second, struggling to compute options and probabilities I don’t want to acknowledge. Could they be having sex together? It’s not outside the realm of possibility.
Sawyer has sex all the time. He’s brought guys and girls back to the apartment before. He’s told me about the people he’s had casual sex with.
Fitz is friendly and outgoing. They obviously get along. He seems like a likely candidate for Sawyer to have sex with. Could that be what they’re doing?
I squeeze my eyes shut as my brain sends out error messages.
No, that’s wrong. Sawyer can’t be having sex with Fitz.
Not Fitz, of all people. Anyone but him.
I don’t like Fitz. He’s an interloper. He’s annoyingly happy and frustratingly smart.
I don’t want Sawyer to have sex with Fitz.
I don’t want Sawyer to have anything to do with Fitz.
I tap on the screen of my phone to check for notifications again, even though I’ve been holding it this whole time and wouldn’t have missed it buzzing in my palm. Still nothing. Where the hell is Sawyer? Why hasn’t he messaged me? Why hasn’t he called?
Maybe he’s hurt? Maybe he’s not with Fitz but he’s just hurt somewhere. In the hospital or something. They would call his emergency contact, wouldn’t they? Except he’s my emergency contact, but I’m not his. Madison is.
Madison! She would know if something happened to him. I unlock my phone.
Preston
What happened to Sawyer?
Madison
How should I know?
You didn’t get a call?
No, should I have? What’s going on?
I don’t know! Sawyer’s not home.
Three dots bounce up and down as Madison types her response. Then they disappear. Then reappear. Then disappear again. Then suddenly my phone starts ringing.
Madison doesn’t wait for me to say hello. The second the call connects, she’s speaking.
“What the hell’s going on, Pres? Why do you think something happened to Sawyer?”
“He’s not home!”
“So?”
“He should be home by now.” I’m practically wailing.
Madison hesitates before sighing. “Did he say he’d be home by now?” She’s using her placating-Preston voice. The one that sounds like she’s talking to a five-year-old.
“No,” I mumble into the pillow in my lap.
“Did you come home to an empty apartment?”
I press my face into the pillow, feeling silly and miserable at the same time. I know I’m overreacting. I’m blowing things out of proportion. Sawyer’s allowed to have a life. He doesn’t need to be at my beck and call at all hours of the day.
It’s just that he’s usually here! I was expecting him to be here! He’s supposed to force me to eat dinner, then make me take a shower and go to bed. Then he’ll go to bed and leave his door open for me to sneak in. It always happens this way. It’s our routine.
And now he’s not here. He’s most likely with Fitz. And I’m all alone.
“Preston?”
I sniffle before answering. “Yeah?”
“Did you call him?”
“No…”
Madison’s eye roll is so loud I can hear it through the phone. “Maybe you should do that. Or message him. Let him know you’re worried. I’m sure there’s a very simple explanation.”
“Okay.” It’s the rational, grown-up thing to do. But Sawyer’s the one who messages me. Not the other way around.
“He’s probably on his way home right now.”
“Okay.”
“God, you sound miserable,” she mutters, which she probably didn’t mean for me to hear.
But she’s right. I am miserable. Miserable and alone.
“Do you want me to stay on the phone with you until he gets home?” Madison offers, and even though I know she doesn’t really want to, I jump at it.
“Yes, can you?”
She sighs. “Yes, of course, I can.” There’s movement on her side of the line, shuffling and clattering sounds like she’s doing stuff while talking to me. “How’s your research going?”
“It’s… um…” On a normal day, I can go on and on until Madison has to interrupt to stop me. Right now, not only can I not form any words, but I can’t even tell you what my research is about. That’s how fried my brain is from trying to process the idea of Sawyer with Fitz.
“Wow. Tongue-tied about your research.” Madison laughs softly. “Oh, Preston, it’s going to be okay! Sawyer’s just late, that’s all. People are late all the time!”
“I know…” But knowing doesn’t make it any easier to wait through. In fact, it might be worse because now I can’t stop wondering why he’s late and who he’s with.
“Anyway, I’m doing well. Thanks so much for ask—”
A key slots into the front door and I flip around on the couch, holding my breath as I listen for the lock to flip, then the knob to turn, and finally the door opens.
Sawyer walks in and pauses at the entrance the same way I did.
Elation rushes through me as I try to jump up from the couch. But I’m too uncoordinated and get tangled in the pillows around me.
By the door, Sawyer mutters, “Shit, he’s still at the lab,” then he hits the lights.
I wince and squeeze my eyes shut at the sudden flood of illumination, sinking back down into the cushions of the couch.
“Preston?” Footsteps—familiar, comforting footsteps—walk across the apartment, toward me. “You’re home. Why are you sitting in the dark?”
I blink my eyes open to find Sawyer behind the couch, squatting down so he’s at eye level with me.
“I…” I’m not sure why I didn’t turn the light on when I got home. It hadn’t felt necessary at the time. I was focused on more important things.
“Hello? HELLO?!” A muffled voice comes from under one of the pillows and I feel around until I find my phone. Oh. Madison. Oops. I dropped the phone in my excitement over Sawyer getting home.
“He’s home now,” I say as I bring the phone to my ear.
“Oh good. Glad you forgot about me now that Sawyer’s there.” Madison’s voice is heavy with sarcasm.
“Sorry.” I do kind of feel bad for taking up her time, but I honestly didn’t know what else to do.
“Is that Madison?” Sawyer holds out his hand and I pass him the phone.
“Mads?” He stands and takes several steps away so I can’t hear the other side of the conversation. “Yeah, I’m here now. Sorry about that… No, nothing’s wrong. Just out with a friend… Yeah, I know, I will… Okay, thanks again, Mads. See you soon. Bye.”
Sawyer turns back to me, hands on hips. His eyebrows are pulled high and together like he wants to scold me but he’s not sure if it’s worth it.
I duck my chin and whisper a sheepish, “Sorry?”
Sawyer shakes his head and drops his arms with a sigh. “Come on. You haven’t eaten yet tonight, have you?”
Just then, my stomach grumbles loudly in agreement.
Sawyer waves his hand, gesturing me to come out from around the couch. I untangle myself and rush to catch up with him in the kitchen.
“I’m sorry I was late and didn’t let you know,” Sawyer says as he opens the fridge and pulls out a container of food. It’s one of the prepared meals our housekeeper/cook makes up. There are always a couple in the fridge in case it’s too late for takeout and Sawyer doesn’t want to cook.
He dumps the food onto a plate and pops it into the microwave. Then he braces his hands on the kitchen island, opposite me. “You okay?”
I grip the edge of the counter, feeling both embarrassed and indignant. “I was alone.”
Sawyer doesn’t respond, leaving space for me to elaborate. I hate it when he does that, making me figure out how to say out loud the thoughts that are racing through my mind.
“I was alone, and… you weren’t here, and… I didn’t know where you were.”
Sawyer’s lips quirk to one side. “You were worried?”
“Yes.” The admission melts away some of the heaviness and tightness that seized me when I came home to an empty apartment.
“You missed me?”
“Yes.” More of it falls away, and I slump in on myself.
“Come here.” Sawyer comes around the end of the island and I hurry to meet him halfway.
He pulls me into a hug and I sigh at the familiarity of it, the safety and comfort. All the pieces that have been rattling around inside me for the past hour finally fit themselves back together.
“Where were you?” I whisper into the crook of Sawyer’s neck, even though I’m not sure I want to know the answer.
Sawyer takes a breath before answering. “Getting drinks with Fitz.”
I stiffen, I can’t help it. I was right. Sawyer was with Fitz. My worst fear come true.
The microwave dings and Sawyer gives me a quick rub on my back before setting me on my feet. He grabs the food and places it in front of a stool at the island.
“He’s kind of scared of you, you know. Actually, I think he’s a bit starstruck. He’s read every single paper you’ve published.” He grabs a fork and holds it out to me.
I take it and only then realize how hungry I am.
I’m not even sure what I’m eating. Some sort of rice dish, but it smells wonderful.
I barely taste it as I shovel it down my throat.
My stomach appreciates it and so does my brain, because if I’m busy eating, I don’t have to respond to Sawyer’s comments about Fitz.
Sawyer comes to sit on the stool next to me, turning around so he can lean back against the edge of the island. “Fitz is a good guy. You should give him a chance.”
I hum something noncommittal. Giving Fitz anything, including a chance, is the last thing I want to do.
“I’m going to show him around a bit since he’s new to the city. I hope you don’t mind.”
A rogue piece of rice tries to slip down my trachea and my cough reflex sends the rest of the food in my mouth flying across the island. Sawyer’s hand is immediately on my back, rubbing circles.
“Whoa, slow down. Chew before swallowing.” He hands me a glass of water that seems to materialize out of nowhere.
It takes me several minutes to stop coughing and breathe normally again. My cheeks are wet with tears and my throat feels raw. Sawyer stays beside me, rubbing my back the entire time.
“Better?” he asks as he presses a napkin into my hand. I have no idea where he got that either.
I wipe up my face and nod.
“Want to keep eating?”
I shake my head.
Sawyer chuckles. “Didn’t think so.” He gives me another quick rub on the back before taking the plate and packing up the leftovers.
His words from a moment ago echo in my ears. I’m going to show him around a bit since he’s new to the city. I hope you don’t mind.
I do mind. I mind a lot. But how do I say that without sounding like more of a jerk than I already am? He knows I don’t like Fitz. Fitz knows I don’t like Fitz. Yet they’re still hanging out and getting drinks. The more they spend time together, the higher the chances they’re having sex.
I don’t know why I care—I shouldn’t. It’s none of my business who Sawyer has sex with, and yet that idea lodges itself in the middle of my brain’s limbic system, irritating and uncomfortable, refusing to be ignored.
I want to ask whether they’ve had sex, but I’m not sure I want the confirmation. If I don’t ask, I can keep assuming they’re not. Regardless, I can’t bring myself to say I’m okay with them becoming friends.
Food stored, counter wiped, and dishes in the dishwasher, Sawyer turns back to me. “Ready for bed?”
I nod and let Sawyer lead me down the hall to my bedroom. Once there, he stands in the doorway.
“Need anything else?”
Yes. Lots. You.
But I shake my head no.
“Cool.” He smiles tiredly. “Good night, Pres.”
“Good night,” I mutter to the door he shuts behind him.
I mope as I use the bathroom, washing my face and brushing my teeth.
I change into pajamas, then stare at the bed.
It’s so big, way too big for me. I always feel like I’m drowning in it, like I’ll get lost in all the sheets and never find my way back out.
I walk past the bed, not bothering to pull back the covers, and open my door to tip-toe down the hall. Sawyer’s bedroom door is cracked open and I slip through.
The lights are already off and there’s a familiar lump on Sawyer’s side of the bed. I sneak under the covers on my side and scoot backward until my back is pressed against him.
“Good night, Pres,” Sawyer whispers again.
“Good night, Sawyer,” I whisper back just before unconsciousness takes me.