Chapter 33
Thirty-Three
Sawyer
The buzz of a phone snaps me out of sleep and I sit up in a rush.
Fuck. I forgot to set an alarm and it’s now…
Three-thirty.
Shit.
Ollie.
I roll to my side…
And find an empty mattress, but the bathroom door is closed.
“Shit,” I whisper, reaching for my phone and groaning when I see my mom is calling. I can’t do that right now. I toss it aside, pull on my pants, my shirt, my socks and shoes. We’ll be late to get Ollie but not that late.
I hurry to the bathroom door, knock lightly…
And it glides open to reveal an empty bathroom.
Frowning, I hurry out of the bedroom and down the stairs, skidding to a halt in the entryway as the front door swings open and Ollie’s tiny head pokes in.
“Saw-yur!” he exclaims as he rushes toward me, throwing his tiny arms around my middle. “I had school today!”
“I know you did. Was it fun?”
“Yup. I played with blocks and then we did letters. Did you know kite starts with K? And kangaroo. And…and…cantaloupe!”
I ruffle his hair. “Cantaloupe starts with C, bud. But the rest of them start with K, along with kitten.”
He frowns slightly, as though committing that all to memory. Then nods.
“Mom says I can have a snack.”
“Yeah? Want me to help you make it?”
Another nod.
“Cool. Why don’t you wash your hands and I’ll be right there?”
“’Kay!”
He runs off and I move to the front door, find Lainey standing on the porch.
“Pages,” I say quickly. “I’m sorry that I overslept. Ollie—”
She touches my cheek. “You were exhausted, handsome. I made the decision to let you sleep.”
Maybe.
But I still should have set an alarm, should have gone with her to grab Ollie. She was tired too, and I’m already gone so much for hockey, there’s so much she has to do on her own, has done on her own—
“Lainey?” I ask, realizing she hasn’t moved inside, that she’s frowning.
Then I realize something else.
“Why didn’t you park in the garage, Pages?”
A shake of her head as she walks over to the railing that surrounds the porch, picks up a wineglass, turning it from side to side.
“What?” she asks distractedly.
“Why didn’t you pull into the garage, Lanes?”
“Oh.” She blinks. “The garbage cans are blocking the driveway,” she murmurs.
I look up, see the trio of cans are indeed in the way. “I’ll grab those for you.”
“Thanks,” she says, still distracted.
I walk over, snag two of the cans, and roll them to the side of the house. But before I can grab the third one, she’s bringing it over. I take it from her, slide it into place—
“What?”
“Pages?”
But she’s crouching down, picking up a piece of paper from the ground. “I don’t understand.”
I bend down next to her, taking the page from her shaking hands, trying to make sense of the words—something that’s hard because it’s smeared and wrinkled and torn.
Then I do.
“Shit, baby,” I tell her. “I’m sure we can get another copy.” It’s an official document, I’ll find out how to request another.
Her brows drag together. “What?”
“I know it’s your marriage license,” I say gently. “We’ll figure out how to get another copy.”
“I have another copy,” she tells me. “And I have the original. I just…”
“You just what?”
“I threw this away the other day. I’m certain of it.”
Every muscle in my body goes tight.
She exhales and shoves back her hair. “And that wineglass…” A shake of her head. “Maybe Faye found it and brought it back.”
She turns, starts walking toward Faye and Gray’s house.
I catch her arm. “Lainey, wait just a second.”
Her eyes are edging into panic. “I-I—” A shaky exhale.
“We had that storm,” she says. “I’m pretty sure it blew out the first time after we had all that wind.
Maybe I didn’t shove it down far enough when I threw it away the second time.
” She nibbles her bottom lip. “That’s probably all there is to it. ”
“I’m sure you’re right.”
Only she doesn’t look convinced.
And her next words tell me exactly that.
“But what if it wasn’t? What if… No. There has to be a logical explanation for this.
There has to be. Because otherwise…” Her lungs hitch.
“It’s just…I keep getting these weird feelings.
Like there are eyes on me sometimes. What if the glass and the paper—” Her eyes go wide, panicked. “Oh, God! Ollie’s in the house alone.”
Heart spasming, I cup her face in my palms, draw her against me. “Take a breath.”
“But—”
“A breath, Pages.”
She inhales. Exhales.
“Good, sweetheart. Let’s go inside.” I take her hand and together we walk toward the front door.
She stops on the stoop, worry etched into the lines of her face. “But if I’m right?” she says softly. “What if this isn’t a weird coincidence and—” She cuts herself off, closes her eyes, and releases a shaky breath. “What if?” she finishes.
I touch her cheek. “We’ll figure it out, Pages. But right now, we need to call Faye and find out about the glass. If she doesn’t know anything about it, then we’ll go from there.”
“But where’s there?”
I open my mouth.
Only before I can admit, I have no fucking idea, Ollie comes tearing down the hall. “I want Ants on a Log, Saw-yur!”
“Got it, bud,” I tell him. “Want to grab the celery? I’ll be right there to help you.”
I close and lock the door, hand Lainey her phone, which is sitting beside her purse on the hall table. “Call Faye, Pages.”
“And then?” she whispers.
Stomach twisting, I glance down at the marriage certificate still clutched in my hand.
“Then we’ll figure out what the hell is going on.”