Chapter 38
Alice
Istare at my phone for the tenth time in an hour, Sawyer’s contact pulled up on the screen. We’ve been texting occasionally—small talk mostly—but keeping our distance like we agreed. Trying to protect each other.
This is stupid.
I adjust my glasses, a nervous habit I can’t seem to break. We’re protecting each other right into being miserable.
I’m tired of protecting everyone else at the expense of what I want.
And what I want is to hear his voice. To see him. To stop pretending that staying away from each other is helping anything.
My thumb hovers over the call button. I push my glasses up my nose. It’s after six, so he’s probably done with his shift. Probably at home studying for that sergeant exam.
Just call him. Worst case, he doesn't answer. And if he doesn't... maybe that's a sign we should move on.
Before I can spiral into ten more reasons why this is a terrible idea, I press call.
He answers on the second ring. “Hey.”
My heart jumps. Just one word, but the rumble of his voice does something to my chest. “Hi.” God, I sound pathetically relieved. “How was your day?”
“It was okay. What about yours?”
“Same.” I walk to my kitchen window, looking out at the gray afternoon, trying to think of something to say that isn’t I’ve been staring at my phone like a lovesick teenager for an hour. “Sawyer?”
“Yeah?”
“I miss you.”
Oh my god, why did I say that? The words hang in the air between us, and I immediately want to take them back. My face gets hot.
The silence stretches. One second. Two.
“I miss you too, Alicat,” he says quietly, and there’s something raw in his voice that makes my breath catch. I feel like it’s been forever since he’s called me that. It’s almost like a reassurance.
My chest feels tight in a good way. “I’m tired of this. Of us keeping our distance and pretending it’s helping anything.”
“Ali—”
“I know we’re trying to be careful, but I don’t care anymore. I just want to see you.”
Another pause, longer this time. “Are you sure about this?”
“I’m sure. I know there are still things we have to deal with, but I just…I need to see you.”
“Where do you want to meet?”
I think about it. Not anywhere in town where we might be seen. Not my house—too much history of bad things happening here. Not his place—that feels like crossing a line we're not ready for yet.
“Could we just drive somewhere? Get out of town for a while?”
“Yeah.” The relief in his voice mirrors mine. “I’ll pick you up in twenty minutes.”
Relief floods through me. “See you soon.”
Twenty minutes later, I'm waiting by my front door, having changed my outfit three times like I'm sixteen again. It's just Sawyer, I tell myself. Who's seen you terrified, crying, at your absolute worst.
But somehow that makes me want to look good for him, not less.
When his truck pulls into my driveway, my stomach does something complicated. My hands are already sweating. He’s out of uniform, wearing jeans and a dark green flannel that fits him perfectly. He looks tired but handsome in that rugged, unaware way.
“Hey,” he says when I slide into the passenger seat.
God, I've missed this. Missed him.
“Hey yourself.” I buckle my seat belt and let myself really look at him. The slight stubble on his jaw. The way his short black hair’s a little messy, like he ran his hands through it too many times.
“You look nice,” I say, then immediately feel awkward about it. I adjust my glasses nervously.
“So do you.” His eyes linger on me for a moment—on my face, my hair, the blue sweater I finally settled on. There’s appreciation in his gaze, but also something softer. Something that makes me feel seen, not just looked at.
We sit there for a moment, both of us smiling like idiots, remembering how to exist in the same space. I feel like we're starting over. Like this is our first date.
“So where are we going?” I ask.
“I was thinking we could grab some food and find somewhere quiet to eat it. Away from everything.”
“That sounds perfect.”
We stop at the drive-through of a burger place on the edge of town, ordering enough food for a small army because neither of us ate much lunch. Stress eating at its finest. Then Sawyer drives us out past the town limits, along a winding road that leads up to a hill overlooking Pine Hollows.
He parks at a small clearing where teenagers probably come to make out, but right now it’s just us and the view. The air is cool through the cracked window. Smells like pine and coming snow. Pine Hollows a cluster of lights in the distance. The sun is setting, casting everything in golden light.
“This is nice,” I say, unwrapping my burger.
“Yeah, it is.” Sawyer opens his container of fries and offers me some, and I take a few without thinking about it. They're still warm, salty. When did we get this comfortable? “How have you really been, Ali?”
I think about the past week. The stress at work, Mrs. Henderson at the coffee shop asking pointed questions about “that police investigation,” the way I’ve been second-guessing every decision, every word, every thought.
“Stressed,” I admit.
“About what?”
“About this investigation ruining your life. About my mother never stopping. About Lance somehow getting out of this without consequences.” I pick at my burger, not meeting his eyes. My throat is tight. “About you deciding I’m not worth all the trouble.”
Sawyer stops eating and turns to look at me. “Alicat.”
I force myself to meet his eyes.
“Whether you believe it or not, you are worth it. All of it. Whatever comes next, whatever we have to deal with, you’re worth it.” His voice is steady, certain in a way that makes my throat tight. “I promise.”
My eyes sting. I blink hard. How does he do that? Make me believe things I've never believed about myself?
“How can you be so sure?” Why aren’t you running? Why aren’t you exhausted by all of this?
“Because for the first time in years, I care about something more than just getting through each day. Because when I think about my future, you’re in it.” He pauses, and something flickers across his face. “In some way.”
In some way. What does that mean? But I don’t push it.
“Even with all this mess?”
“Especially with all this mess.” Sawyer looks out at the lights below, and his expression shifts to something more serious. “Alice, there’s something I need to tell you. About your mother.”
My stomach drops. “What about her?”
“I confronted her at Murphy’s Diner.”
“You what?” My voice comes out sharper than I intended.
“Chris found evidence. A lot of it. About Lance, about what your mother’s been doing to cover for him.
” Sawyer turns to face me fully, and I can see the anger simmering beneath his calm exterior.
“Ali, Lance has been doing this for years. Stalking women, harassing them. And every time someone tried to press charges, your mother made it go away.”
I stare at him, my burger forgotten. “What do you mean, made it go away?”
“Bribes, threats, whatever it took. She’s been the Carlston family’s fixer, cleaning up Lance’s messes so he never faced consequences for anything.”
My hands go cold. “How many women?”
“Six that we can prove. Maybe more.” His voice gets harder, angrier. “Including the mayor’s daughter, Jennifer Walsh. Lance was harassing her while he was with you.”
The words hit me like a slap. My chest tightens. “So he was cheating on me.” I try to keep my voice steady. From the corner of my eye, I can tell Sawyer is studying my expression.
I already knew about one coworker he was sending pictures to. I'd forgiven him for that. But other women? Women I wouldn't have even known about if it wasn't for Sawyer?
“Among other things. Alice, your mother has been covering up crimes for years. Witness tampering, obstruction of justice, conspiracy. She could go to prison.”
I feel dizzy, like the truck is spinning. I press my hand against my forehead. “What did you say to her?”
“I told her to withdraw her complaint against me and stay away from you. I told her if she didn’t, I’d take all the evidence to the state investigators.”
“And?”
“She refused. Said she wasn’t backing down.” Sawyer’s jaw tightens, and I can see the frustration radiating off him. “If anything, I made her more determined to destroy us.”
Us. He said us. “So this isn’t over.”
“No. It’s not over. But we have the evidence to fight back now.”
“And you did this for me?” My voice cracks slightly.
“I did it for us. And for Lance to rot in a cell for a long time.”
I feel tears starting and try to blink them back, but they come anyway. Don’t cry. Don’t fall apart. Not now. “I almost gave up. When my mom came over with that statement, part of me wanted to just sign it and make everything stop.”
“But you didn’t.”
“No. I tore it up instead.” I look at him through blurry eyes.
“I tried to give her a way out. She chose to fight instead.”
“So where does that leave us?”
“It leaves us knowing the truth. And it leaves us with enough evidence to bury her and the Carlston family if we have to.” He reaches over and takes my hand. “I won’t let them win, Alice. I won’t let them hurt you anymore.”
The certainty in his voice should comfort me, but instead I feel a spike of anxiety. He’s going to war with my mother. For me. What if it destroys him?
“Thank you,” I whisper. “For fighting for me when I didn’t even know you were fighting.”
“You don’t have to thank me.”
We sit in silence for a moment, and then Sawyer squeezes my hand. “That’s when I knew for sure.”
“Knew what?”
“That I was falling for you.”
My heart does something complicated in my chest, a mix of elation and terror. He’s falling for me. Present tense. Not fell. Falling. “Past tense?”
“No. Present tense. I am falling for you, Alice Campbell. Have been since the day we met.”
My breath catches. Say it. Just say it back. But the words stick in my throat, tangled up with all my fears. “Good. Because I think I’m falling for you too.”