Chapter Eighteen
Four days have passed since the sponsor event, and it feels like a whirlwind of change. The day after, Monday, I officially moved in with Sawyer. Jo orchestrated the whole thing, ensuring that the press captured every moment of our supposed domestic bliss. It was surreal, to say the least.
We’ve only spent two days living together before Sawyer had to hit the road for an away game, leaving me alone in his apartment. Maybe I should have joined, but since not all the wives/partners/girlfriends did, I stayed back.
Right now, I’m kind of regretting it because the silence feels deafening, and the emptiness of the place echoes with the weight of our arrangement. It’s strange, being here without him, after all the chaos and intensity of the past few days.
Having the t-shirts he left me isn’t enough. Though I do love having his smell with me when I go to sleep, it’s such a hollow feeling when I wake up alone. Even the small, sweet handwritten notes I’ve found in random places like on the fridge, and on the coffee maker aren’t enough to fill the void he’s left behind.
Weirdly enough, my biggest comfort is the burn on my back from when he fucked me up against the wall. The next day I made him take a picture to show me the damage, and I’m still surprised by the surge of desire that followed after seeing my back all red. There were even parts where my skin had split open. But knowing it happened at Sawyer’s hands, doing what we did, made it hot instead of scary. And now… now I can’t stop fantasizing about how it would feel to do it on purpose.
As I sit alone in the apartment, I can’t help but feel a sense of unease creeping over me. It’s not just about living with Sawyer or the media attention surrounding us. It’s about the ticking clock, the ever-looming deadline hanging over my head. Every moment spent here feels like a countdown, a reminder that my time is running out.
I try to push aside the anxiety gnawing at me, focusing instead on the tasks at hand. But no matter how much I try to distract myself, the sense of urgency remains. I know I need to make the most of this opportunity to secure my freedom and escape the suffocating grip of my past.
But with each passing day, I can’t shake the feeling that time is slipping through my fingers like sand, and I’m running out of chances to make it right. I guess that’s not exactly true, something I need to come to terms with. I’ve managed what I thought would be the hardest thing; I’m married. The next part is taking Sawyer to the Vatican with me, standing in front of the Senate. Something I really don’t want to do. I… I’m protecting Sawyer, possibly at the expense of my freedom.
Fuck.
I pick up my phone, looking at the last two contacts I’ve used that aren’t work related. Gail and Remus. My fingers hover over the keys as I decide to text my cousin, something I should probably have done right after the interview where Fabian showed up. But fuck, I didn’t want to. I wanted to handle all of this on my own, a way of showing I don’t need him.
Me: Are you aware that Fabian has found me?
My cousin’s reply is instantaneous.
Remus: Yes. Nothing I can do about it unless you’re ready for the Senate.
I grit my teeth together. This is exactly why I didn’t text him earlier. I knew he’d give me some bullshit about family politics, and how this is my fight. I mean, it is my fight, but it still doesn’t seem fair that Fabian uses his spot in the Senate, and the influence that follows with it.
Me: You know I’m not. But how exactly am I supposed to do anything with him breathing down my neck?
Remus: What do you mean?
Sighing, I look down at my phone, letting my mind wander. Remus doesn’t sound like he knows Fabian is now a sponsor of the Sabertooths. But even if he knew, I’m not sure he can do anything about it.
Me: Fabian’s been sending me weird “presents”, even spray painted my front door. And now he’s a sponsor for the team I work for. Don’t tell me that’s a coincidence.
Remus: I didn’t know that, and it’s definitely not with my blessing he’s bought his way in. But there’s still nothing I can do. This is your fight, Lucia. There are those in the Senate that believe my dad was wrong for letting you go, and they’ve sided with Fabian. The Senate is divided, so the sooner you bring your new husband home to meet the fam, the better.
Well… fuck. It sounds like a civil war is brewing, which means that even if Remus wanted to, he can’t be caught helping me. He’s right, though. I need to end this once and for all. Sadly, the person to help me figure my shit out is still not talking to me.
“Enough’s enough,” I say to myself.
I can’t keep stewing in this anxiety-fueled solitude. I need someone to talk to, someone who understands me. I’m done with Gail ignoring me, pretending like everything’s fine when it’s clearly not.
With a resolute determination, I leave Sawyer’s apartment behind and climb into my car. The engine roars to life, a fitting soundtrack to my determination. I know exactly where I need to go.
Driving with purpose, I navigate the familiar streets until I reach Gail’s brother’s house. Parking hastily, I practically leap out of the car and stride up to the front door, my heart pounding with anticipation and frustration.
I ring the doorbell, my patience wearing thin with each passing second. When the door swings open, Gail’s brother stands there, a surprised expression on his face.
“Lucia, hey,” he greets me, his voice tinged with confusion. “What brings you here?”
I brush past him, not bothering with pleasantries. “Where’s Gail?” I demand, my tone firm and uncompromising.
His eyebrows shoot up in surprise at my abruptness. “Uh, she’s inside,” he replies, gesturing toward the house. “But I don’t know if she’s...”
I don’t wait for him to finish, striding past him and into the house. I find Gail sitting in the living room, her expression guarded as she looks up at me.
“Gail,” I say, my voice soft yet filled with urgency. “We need to talk.”
Her eyes widen in surprise as she takes in my determined expression. She opens her mouth to say something, but I cut her off before she can speak.
“I’m not going to stand here and pretend everything’s okay anymore,” I declare, my voice tinged with frustration. “You’ve been avoiding me, ignoring my calls and messages, and I’ve had enough.”
Gail’s expression shifts, guilt flickering across her features. “Lucia, I...” she begins, but I raise a hand to stop her.
“No more excuses,” I insist, the weight of disappointment heavy in my tone. “We’ve been friends for years, and this isn’t how we solve shit. We get drunk and say all the things we wouldn’t normally say. But we don’t ignore each other.”
There’s a tense silence between us as Gail looks down, unable to meet my gaze, and I can sense the conflict within her, the struggle to find the right words. “I’m sorry,” she finally whispers, her voice barely audible. “I’ve just been... you dropped a lot on me, Luce.”
I take a deep breath, trying to temper my frustration with understanding. “I get that,” I say softly. “But shutting me out isn’t the answer. We’re supposed to be there for each other, remember?”
Gail nods, her expression pained. “I know, Lucia. And I’m sorry. I’ll do better, I promise.”
As the tension begins to ease, I feel a sense of relief wash over me. “Good,” I say, offering her a reassuring smile. “Because I need you now more than ever.”
“I actually have tomorrow off,” Gail says, shooting me a smile. “So if you’re serious about getting drunk…” She trails off, but I don’t need her to finish.
“Where?” I ask immediately.
Then we both say “O’Jackie’s” at the same time, and burst out laughing.
As Gail disappears into her room to change, I lean against the wall, feeling a mixture of relief and anticipation. It’s been too long since we’ve had a proper heart-to-heart, and I can’t wait to finally clear the air between us.
“Heading out tonight?” I startle as her brother emerges. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to scare you.” His tone is casual, nothing like I imagine it would be if Gail had told him why she’s hiding out here.
I nod, giving him a small smile. “Yeah, we’re going to O’Jackie’s for a drink or twelve.”
“Need a lift?” Jamie offers, already reaching for his keys.
“That would be great, thanks,” I say, relieved that we won’t have to worry about driving.
“No problem,” he says, flashing me a reassuring grin. “I’ll meet you guys outside.” With that, he heads toward the door, leaving me to wait for Gail to finish getting ready.
When Gail emerges, dressed in a casual outfit, I offer her a small smile, and she returns it with a hesitant one of her own. It’s a start, I think to myself as we head outside to where her brother is waiting.
As we climb into the car, I feel a sense of gratitude wash over me. With Gail’s brother behind the wheel, neither of us have to worry about driving, allowing us to fully indulge in the night ahead.
The drive to O’Jackie’s is filled with a nervous energy, a mix of anticipation and apprehension swirling in the air. I steal glances at Gail, noting the tension in her posture, and I can’t help but feel a pang of sadness. This is all my doing, and I want to make it right.
I decide then and there that I won’t allow either of us to leave the pub until we’ve dived headfirst into the realm of alcohol-fueled honesty and reach… I don’t know. An understanding?
Tonight, nothing is off limits. Fuck NDA’s and family obligations.
As we pull into the parking lot of the Irish pub, I take a deep breath, steeling myself for the conversations that we need to have, and for the honesty I owe her.
“Thanks for the ride,” I call over my shoulder just before shutting the car door.
Gail’s brother offers us a wave before disappearing into the night.
The moment we step into O’Jackie’s, the lively chatter and clinking of glasses envelop us, drowning out any thoughts of the outside world. It’s a welcome distraction from the weight of our troubles, and Gail and I waste no time making our way to the bar.
As we push through the crowd, I can feel curious eyes following our every move, whispers of recognition rippling through the room. It’s hard to ignore the attention, knowing that I’m now labeled as Sawyer’s girlfriend-maybe-fiancée, but I push the discomfort aside, focusing on finding a secluded spot where Gail and I can finally talk.
Before we can even order our drinks, Jackie herself appears at our side. Apart from when Sawyer took me to get my belongings, I don’t think I’ve ever talked with her before. Hell, due to my evil hangover, I’m not even sure I could have picked her out of a lineup. But thanks to the pictures hanging around on different walls, she’s easy to recognize.
Her sharp eyes take in the scene with a quick sweep. “Well, well, well, look who it is,” she says with a sly grin, nodding toward me. “Sawyer’s lass, huh?”
I nod, offering Jackie a wry smile. “Yeah, that’s me,” I reply, trying to keep my tone light despite the weight of her scrutiny.
Jackie’s gaze lingers on me for a moment longer before she turns to Gail, a mischievous twinkle in her eye. “What’s your poison?”
I blink. “Excuse me?”
Jackie rolls her eyes. “What will you be drinking?” She talks slowly, like I’m being difficult.
Resisting the urge to roll my eyes and snap something at the older woman, I turn to Gail. “Tequila, please,” Gail whoops. “And lots of it.”
With a sly smile, the older woman reaches behind the bar and grabs a bottle and two glasses. “Well, lucky for you two birds, I’ve got just the thing,” she says, gesturing toward the back of the bar.
Intrigued, Gail and I follow Jackie through the crowded room, grateful for the chance to escape the prying eyes and probing questions. As we enter one of the pub’s private rooms, I can’t help but feel a sense of relief wash over me, knowing that we’ll finally have the chance to talk in peace.
But before we can even settle in, Jackie leans in close, her voice low and intense. “Listen here, Lucia,” she says, her eyes boring into mine. “You better treat Sawyer right. He’s a good lad, and he deserves someone who appreciates him.”
I nod, understanding the gravity of her words. “I will.” It’s an empty promise, one I don’t feel good about making.
She huffs and turns to leave after leaving the bottle and glasses on the table. “Just use the intercom if you need anything. And if you puke, you clean it or pay for someone to do it for you. I ain’t touching anything that’s been inside your stomachs.”
As we settle into the privacy of the room at O’Jackie’s, the atmosphere shifts, enveloping us in a cocoon of quietude. With our drinks in hand, we sit in silence for a while, each lost in our own thoughts. The weight of the last time we were here together hangs heavy in the air, casting a shadow over our conversation. But as the minutes tick by, I can feel the tension between us slowly beginning to dissipate.
I know I should be the one to break the silence. Fuck it, I owe it to Gail. That doesn’t mean I know where to start, or even what to say. So much has happened. Yeah, I need some liquid courage. I refill my glass, and without hesitation, I down it in one swift motion, the fiery liquid burning its way down my throat. Gail watches me with an amused expression, but I pay her no mind as I pour myself another glass.
With newfound courage coursing through my veins, I turn to Gail, my words tumbling out in a rush. “I’m sorry,” I blurt out, the weight of my confession hanging heavy in the air. “I’m sorry for all the lies, for all the secrets. You have to know that I never meant to deceive you, Gail. It’s just... I didn’t know how to tell you the truth.”
Gail’s expression softens, her eyes filled with understanding. “I get it, Luce,” she says gently, reaching out to place a comforting hand on mine. “I’m not proud of abandoning you. But I needed the time to… think everything through.”
“And have you?” I ask.
“I think so. Look, no matter how pissed I am, I really do get it. Everything you could have said would lead to a million more questions.”
I nod, grateful for… her. “Thank you,” I whisper, feeling a sense of relief wash over me. “Okay, so what do you want to know?”
She empties her glass while looking at me, and I can tell from her expression that she’s trying to decide which questions I’m likely to answer. “You moved out.” It’s not a question. “And you’re now living at Sawyer’s, right?”
Okay, I guess we’re starting in the safe-zone. “That’s right,” I confirm.
Gail nods to herself. “Who was the man that asked you the weird question during your interview?”
So much for starting out softly, Gail’s going straight for the kill. I brush some imaginary lint off my pants and fidget in my seat. When I can’t ignore the question any longer, I meet her gaze. “My ex husband,” I reply matter-of-factly. I freaking sound like we’re discussing the weather rather than the guy that’ll kill me if he ever gets me back.
“I.. uhh… what?” She forces a laugh and stares at me like she’s expecting me to keep talking. I don’t. I’m fine with answering her questions, but I’m not fine with volunteering information. It feels like betraying my fucked up family. “Ex husband? I thought you guys were still married.”
“Right…” I clear my throat and hold up my hand, showing her my new wedding band. “Sawyer and I kinda got married—”
“Kinda?” she screeches, grasping my hand. “You did it? You got what you wanted, so you’re free now, right?”
I hate having to ruin the hope in her voice. “Yes and no. Yes, we’re married. But no, I’m not free. I have to take Sawyer to Rome with me and get my family’s approval. It’s… it’s hard to explain.”
Gail nods slowly. “I get it. I’ve seen enough mob movies to know how this works. So there’s a chance they’ll reject it? Can’t you just talk to your cousin?”
“My cousin married us,” I explain. “He’s on board, and if it was only up to him I think he would let me go. But there’s like… a council I guess you can call it, one who needs to approve.”
“Well… fuck,” Gail curses, looking like she might start crying. “So I might still lose you?”
I force a confident laugh I don’t feel. “Nah, it’ll be fine. I know exactly what to do.”
She eyes me skeptically while sipping at her drink. “So let’s circle back. If it was your ex in the audience… I mean, I get he isn’t a nice guy. But why did you look so scared? And why was he hiding?”
Before I went to get Gail, I knew she’d ask all these questions. I told myself I was okay with it, which I was—past tense. As we sit here now, I feel cold again, just at the mention of Fabian. I’m not sure I have it in me to lay it all out there. “Because he’s a scary guy,” I deadpan.
Gail huffs and crosses one leg over the other. “Is this your idea of honesty, Luce?”
“I am being honest, Gail. Fabian is bad news, and he’s fucking scary.” My tone rises, and I have to stop myself from shouting. “Look, I’m all for a night of honesty. But maybe we need some ground rules?” I suggest.
“Like what?”
Taking a deep breath, I bite my bottom lip. “Like… I promise not to lie, but there are things I can’t tell you. Things that… hurt too much to talk about.” I do my best to lace every word with emotion so she knows I’m not trying to weasel my way out.
“Fine,” she relents. “But you have to give me something. How old were you when you got married?”
I take a sip of my drink before answering. “Sixteen. We got married on my sixteenth birthday.”
Her eyebrows shoot up her forehead. “What? Is that even legal?”
Shooting her a sad smile, I say, “Gail, remember all the things I told you my family orchestrated? Do you really think something as insignificant as my age matters?”
“I suppose not,” she hisses. Her eyes flash with anger and indignation. “So you were forced to get married while you were basically still a child?”
“Yep. At fifteen, my uncle and parents began looking for a suitable husband for me. They chose Fabian because of his standing, which they felt was a good fit—”
Before I can finish, Gail interrupts me. “Was he forced as well?”
Her question makes me laugh bitterly. “Trust me, he was eager. I didn’t know it at the time, but Fabian prefers his women young, so he has time to shape them.”
“Well… fuck.” Fuck’s right. “Did he… Luce… did he… touch you?” Gail trails off, and when I look at her, tears stream down her face.
I want to scoff at the question because Fabian did a whole lot of touching. But since I get where Gail’s coming from, and know she’s asking out of concern, I force myself to take a moment to compose myself before answering.
While the age of consent is eighteen in the states, it’s sixteen where I come from. Though, since the laws of common people don’t matter to people like my family, that’s neither here nor there. The thing that’s making all this hard to explain is that I don’t want Gail to know about all the things Fabian has done to me. She doesn’t need those images in her head.
And… because I don’t really want to admit how spineless I was. Back then, I’d told myself it was fine, that my family wouldn’t force me to do it if it weren’t okay. So much fucking bullshit.
“He didn’t touch me until we were married and I was of age,” I say robotically, opting for the simple explanation instead of explaining how badly he’d hurt me the moment he had a ring on my finger. “But he also didn’t respect the word no.”
Gail lets out a guttural cry and practically throws herself at me. She holds me so tight it’s hard to breathe, but I don’t mind one bit. I let her cling to me while she cries. Through it all, I don’t shed a single tear. I’ve cried enough for the girl I once was, and for everything Fabian did and took from me. I’ll never cry because of him again. Never.
“I get it,” Gail hiccups. “Fuck. He broke you, didn’t he? Or… he tried because no one can truly destroy you, Luce. You’re too fucking strong.”
“Gail…” I stop talking as my voice cracks. Instead of looking for the perfect words, I hug her harder, using the embrace to tell her what I don’t have the words to express.
Once Gail’s all cried out, she returns to her chair and I quickly refill our glasses. As we drink in silence, I’m hit by a sudden need to have Sawyer near me. While he’s been gone, I haven’t let myself admit how much I miss him. But dammit, I do.
I don’t care how rude it is, I pull out my phone and activate it. To my surprise, there are missed calls and texts from Sawyer, demanding to know what I’m doing at O’Jackie’s. Gail distracts me when she stands up, and tells me she’s going to the bathroom. As soon as she’s gone, I hit the call button.
“Why the fuck didn’t you tell me you were going out?” Sawyer barks as a way of greeting.
“Hi to you too,” I chirp.
“You okay, bunny? Did something happen?” I’m stunned into silence. How the hell does he know? “Put your camera on,” he demands, and I do what he says.
Holding the phone at arm’s length, I wave awkwardly. “Hi there.”
Sawyer’s having none of it, and gets straight to the point. “What’s wrong?”
“I’m out with Gail,” I admit. “And it… uhh… got a bit heavy.”
His tone sounds relieved as he says, “Fucking hell, bunny. You had me worried.”
“Sorry,” I reply on a whisper. “I didn’t know…” Didn’t know what? That he’d be worried… that he’d care… the list goes on, but I don’t know how to put it into words.
Proving he knows me better than I know myself, at least right now, Sawyer finishes my sentence. “You didn’t think I’d care.” I nod, knowing he can see the bob of my head. “I care about everything you do, bunny. Did you have cereal for breakfast? You tell me. Did you touch yourself in the shower? Show me. No, better yet, call me. When I say all that you do interests me, I mean it. I’m a greedy fucker when it comes to you, baby. So I want to know it all.”
“O-okay,” I stutter. The sheer magnitude of his gaze is enough to make me feel the depth of his words in every fiber of my being. “I didn’t touch myself, by the way.”
His breath hitches. “No? So you’re telling me that you’ve only had the orgasms I’ve given you?”
I nod. Then a thought hits me. “Why? Have you been touching yourself?”
Sawyer’s low chuckle and mischievous smile makes my nipples pebble, and arousal spread through my core. “At least twice a day,” he confirms.
“Don’t,” I hiss, feeling irrationally annoyed. “I want all your orgasms, Sawyer. They belong to me.”
“Is that so?” he rasps, his eyes hooded.
“It’s only fair,” I say, trying to reason my way out of the ridiculous claim I’m… well, claiming.
Before he can answer, the door opens and Gail comes back into the room. I hold my finger up in her direction, and she grins, mouthing, “Sawyer?”
“I have to go,” I say, looking at the man who looks entirely too smug now that I’ve declared I want his cum. Or his orgasms… both.
“Okay,” he rasps. “I hope Jackie is looking after you two.”
My jaw becomes slack, and I gape at him. “That was you? You’re the reason she gave us this private room?”
He grins. “Bunny, you’re all over social media. The second I saw, I texted her and asked her to look after you.”
“You checked your socials?” I ask, arching my eyebrow. “But you never do that.”
He grins. “I do when I want to see what you’re up to.”
“Thank you,” Gail pipes up, grinning widely. “For getting us this room.”
It is sweet, but it’s also annoying. All I wanted was a night out with Gail, which he had no right hijacking. I know my annoyance is irrational, and I know he didn’t really do anything. It irks me all the same, though.
“Don’t mention it,” Sawyer says smoothly. “Once you’re done, there’s a car waiting outside and there is security waiting outside the doors to the room you’re in.”
I look at Gail, and she nods. “Yep. Saw the two beefy men when I went to the bathroom.”
“Sawyer,” I growl.
“Lucia,” he says, mimicking my tone.
“Gail,” my friend says, shrugging unapologetically when I shoot her a glare. “Hey now, don’t look at me like that, Luce. I’m starting to feel left out.”
I roll my eyes while Sawyer bursts out laughing. “Glad to know you approve, Gail.” He grins.
My friend comes over, standing right behind me and looks at the screen. “Just to be clear, I approve of the way you’re looking after Luce. I’m not sure I approve of you as a husband yet.”
Sawyer laughs harder. “Noted. I’ll do what I can to get your approval.”
“You should,” Gail says smugly. “My opinion is very important to Luce.”
The smile is wiped away from Sawyer’s face. “Speaking of approval, Gail. Don’t ever fucking ignore my wife again. If you do, I’ll make sure you never speak again.”
Instead of taking offense, Gail smiles sweetly. “Noted,” she says, echoing his sentiment. “By the way, you just got an extra point for being so protective.”
The two of them grin at each other like proud children who have outwitted each other. “Okay then. Now that you’re done setting the rules, I’m gonna go,” I deadpan.
“See you tomorrow, wife,” Sawyer rasps. Then he hangs up before I can say anything.
Ducking my head, I hide behind the curtain of my long red hair, taking my sweet time putting my phone away while Gail returns to her seat. I know I’m smiling, and I already know Gail’s noticed it which means she’s about to give me shit.
“Soooo,” she drawls, dragging the word out. “When exactly did you fall for Sawyer Perry?”
I scoff at her. “I didn’t. I’m just… just… it’s not what you think, Gail. He’s an ass and I’m a bitch. So if anything, I’m just making the best of a shitty situation.”
She sighs audibly. “Right. And I’ve never lied to a one-night-stand.”
“Huh?”
“Oh, sorry, buttercup. I thought we were spewing ridiculous lies. My bad.” She wiggles her eyebrows playfully. “But seriously, though. When did you fall for him?”
“I didn’t,” I growl. “He has a nice dick, and he knows how to use it. That’s it.”
She laces her fingers together and raises her arms above her head, lazily cupping the back of her head. “I thought we weren’t going to lie tonight,” she says, arching an eyebrow. When I stare uncomprehendingly at her, she smiles even wider. “Oh my gosh, you don’t even realize, do you? Well, well, well. This just got a lot more interesting.”
“Whatever,” I mumble, over this conversation.
Gail laughs. “Tell me about the wedding.”
Knowing what she wants to know, I explain my idea of wearing the engagement-looking ring at the interview to stir up rumors. “I don’t know what made him suggest it, only that the idea came from him. And then I had my cousin marry us, which was needed per the family rules.”
“And the divorce?” Gail asks.
“It was hidden in the prenup. But as promised, Remus granted me my divorce just as I was about to get married.”
She lets out a whistle. “Damn. Not even thirty and married twice. Go Luce.” I shoot her a dirty look that makes her cackle. “Too soon?”
“Way too soon,” I confirm.
Picking up my glass I drink the few drops left. I contemplate refilling it, but I’m starting to feel tired. Plus, the quicker I go to sleep, the quicker Sawyer’s back.
We only stay for another hour, which we spend discussing possible outcomes and ideas of how to approach the trip to the Vatican that I need to gain my freedom. But no matter how much we talk about it, I don’t see a natural way to bring it up.
“If he needs to stand in front of some kind of jury I don’t think there’s any sneaky way to do this,” Gail says. “You just have to go ahead with it.”
“I guess.”
Shaking her head, she laughs as she stands. “Still denying having feelings for him? Because if you don’t, you should just get it over with so you can be free to spread your wings or whatever.”
“It’s not that simple,” I hiss. “Going to the Vatican could cost him his life. If the Senate doesn’t approve, they could order his execution. Feelings don’t fucking matter.” Even as I speak the words, I know it’s a lie.
Not the part about the potential consequences; the part about feelings. They matter, and it’s the real reason I’m procrastinating. I want to have my cake, and eat it, too. I want my freedom to live my life with Sawyer, find out what that looks like without my family’s interference.
“Is there anything I can do?” Gail asks when we get outside. We’re flanked by the bodyguards Sawyer mentioned, and there are two cars waiting for us. Her shoulders slump when I shake my head. “I’m here if you need me, Luce. Day and night. And umm… if I think of anything that could help I’ll let you know.”
“You do that,” I say, trying to sound as though I actually believe it’s possible when in reality, I don’t. “Talk to you tomorrow?”
“And the day after, and the next day, and the—”
I interrupt Gail’s sing-song with a hug. After saying our goodbyes, I get into the second car, and sit back while the driver takes me back to Sawyer’s place. My place… our place.
With every day that passes I know I’m getting closer and closer to the deadline. I can’t keep ignoring the facts, which is also the real reason I went to Gail. I needed to make things right before my time is up. As for Sawyer… maybe I should just let myself enjoy what little time I have left.
No matter how many times I’ve gone over it in my head, I can’t sacrifice him. I just can’t—I refuse.