Chapter 26
BECKETT
BY THE TIME we made it back to the cabin that night, we were both running on fumes.
The day had been nonstop from the second Rome tried to break down our door, and somehow it’d only gotten more chaotic from there.
Vow-renewal setup and rehearsal, photos and seating charts and dinner, followed by an impromptu karaoke showdown that lasted until close to midnight.
But more than that, Sawyer had spent the day pretending he wasn’t watching me every time I moved—and he was terrible at pretending. Rome definitely hadn’t given him any tips there, but lucky for Sawyer, I liked watching him back.
After our being surrounded by so many people all day, the quiet of our cabin was welcome. We’d turned all the lights off outside, since the stars were out in full view, and we’d both abandoned our shoes inside before heading out to the porch swing.
“Oh sweet Jesus. No more peopling,” Sawyer said around a groan as he kicked his feet up on the edge of the table.
He pushed us off with the tips of his toes and added, “I love my family, I do—I would commit crimes for them and bury the bodies. But I swear, if one more person asks me where the extra batteries are, I’m changing my name and moving to Canada. ”
I stretched my arm along the back of the swing. “Do you actually know where they are?”
“In the box marked extra batteries.”
“Imagine that.”
“Shocking, right?” Sawyer yawned and leaned into my side like he’d been doing it for years, tucking himself under my arm.
He fit there perfectly. It made my heart beat a little too hard and fast, especially knowing that I needed to come clean and this might be the last time he wanted to be with me like this.
I leaned in, nuzzling my nose into his hair and breathing him in.
It had been on my mind all day, lingering like a dark cloud over an otherwise incredible day.
I’d been welcomed into his family like I belonged there.
His mom had handed me a box and called me sweetheart, and I’d been pulled into family photos and called Tracksuit about ten different times.
Sawyer and I had tried to steal a few more private moments, but they hadn’t lasted long, and now that we were finally alone, the exhaustion from the day had taken over.
“Thank you,” he said, gently rocking the swing back and forth. “You were so great today.”
I knew how much he meant that, and as much as I wanted to take it in, his words made a guilty knot form in my stomach.
I tried to play it off. “That’s not what you said at karaoke.”
He tipped his head back against my shoulder so he could look up at me. “Well, in my defense, I’ve never heard that rendition of “Summer of ’69” before.”
“And you say you’re in radio.”
“Not my fault you hit notes only dogs can hear.” He yawned again, which proved contagious, making me do the same. Then his eyes drifted over my face, blinking slowly, and I reached up to run my fingers along the side of his neck.
“I liked today,” he said, his voice barely audible.
I swallowed. “Me too.”
“Yeah?”
“Yeah.” I trailed my fingers up through his hair and he let out a long, contented sigh.
“Feels good,” he murmured.
“So do you.”
Sawyer lifted his head, kissing me softly at first, just a brush of his lips against mine. It made my heart ache in a way I couldn’t explain, and I leaned into it, taking what he offered one last time.
There was no rush, no urgency driving us as we explored each other with long, languid strokes and wandering hands.
After a while, he pulled back, just enough that I rested my forehead against his and closed my eyes.
His palm was warm through my shirt, and as we sat there in silence, I wondered if he could feel the way my heart began to beat faster, if it tipped him off that something was coming, something I didn’t want to say but had to. It was time.
Sawyer shifted to lay his head against my shoulder again, and I stared out at the lake, trying to get my thoughts together.
How to tell him so that he wouldn’t hate me afterward—was that even possible?
I’d thought of a dozen different ways to do it, but every version sounded wrong.
Too defensive or too careful. Too late. Hell, there was no easy way to tell someone you were a liar.
Just say it.
“Sawyer?”
“Hmm?” I could feel the vibration of the word even if I could barely hear it as the swing lulled to a stop.
I took in a deep breath through my nose, still holding Sawyer close.
“I should’ve told you this the night we met,” I said. “You walked through the door at the hotel, and I noticed you right away. Couldn’t take my eyes off you, actually.”
He made a soft sound in the back of his throat and I forced myself to keep going.
“I didn’t plan on staying that night. I was getting ready to leave, actually, when you walked in. You walked right up to me and you looked so nervous.”
I wet my lips, feeling much the same fucking way right then.
“You see, I was there to meet someone too, only…it wasn’t you. You thought I was the guy you were there for and I didn’t correct you.”
Sawyer didn’t say anything to that, probably in shock, so I kept going.
“You were just so beautiful, and you seemed like you needed someone in your corner, and…I told myself I was helping. But that doesn’t change the fact that I haven’t been honest with you.
I let you believe I was the man you hired, and…
I’m not. I was just the guy who happened to be there at the right time. ”
Sawyer’s head tipped forward against my chest. For a second, I thought he was reacting. Hiding his face and bracing himself.
But then his hand went slack, dropping down to my lap, his breathing evened out, and I froze.
“Sawyer?”
Nothing.
I looked down and found him asleep against me, his cheek pressed to my shirt, lashes dark against his skin and his lips slightly parted.
Of course. Of course the man who could survive a full day of family mayhem, telling off his ex, destroying my body before coffee, and then performing what amounted to a full concert during karaoke would fall asleep at the exact moment I’d found the nerve to tell him the truth.
I almost laughed, because what were the odds?
Instead, a heaviness settled in my chest, because the brief moment of relief that flickered through me was the worst part. For a second, I was glad he hadn’t heard.
Then I hated myself for it.
I slid my hand carefully over his back, feeling the steady rise and fall of his breathing. He looked so peaceful and had trusted me enough to fall asleep in the middle of my confession because he had no idea there was anything to fear from me.
That ended tomorrow. It had to.
I wouldn’t let him walk into his mothers’ vow renewal beside me while I was still pretending to be the man he thought he’d hired. I wouldn’t let him keep smiling at me like I’d earned every piece of him when I’d been holding back the one thing that could change everything.
We sat out there for a long time, and it wasn’t until Sawyer shifted and began to mumble in his sleep that I took him inside.
He stirred a little when I pulled the sheets over him, but only enough to reach for me when I climbed in beside him.
I let him curl against me, his leg sliding between mine like there was nowhere else he expected me to be.
I held him and stared up at the wooden beams along the ceiling, unable to drift off as peacefully as he had with my brain running through every possible scenario.
I didn’t have a choice anymore, not when there was only one decent thing left to do.
I’d tell him first thing.
Tomorrow.