Chapter 14
Anastasia
“This is a mistake, Sawyer. You should have stayed at the hospital.”
“Nah. This is great.” With a grunt, Garrison and Weston help him onto the couch in my living room. Where he insisted on sleeping after Zane announced that he and Tessa were going to take the guest room.
I glare at him, so frustrated that he’s not seeing reason. But after two days at the hospital, he was about to pull a Runaway Patient and take off with or without the doctor’s blessing. “You need to at least let them help you into my bedroom. I can take the couch.”
“Nah, I’m okay right here for now.”
“Sawyer—”
He opens one eye. “I’m fine, Anastasia. I spent two days in that bed while you slept in a chair. I’m fine,” he repeats.
Even if he wasn’t, we both know he wouldn’t say a single thing. After he told me what Jack said about the serial killer, he’d begged me to leave the country with him. I, of course, told him that it wasn’t possible.
I have a business to run, and so long as there’s always someone with me, I should be safe. So, after some serious convincing, Sawyer agreed, so long as Zane and Tessa took the guest room.
The others offered, too, but having my brother close has been nice. And with Tessa around, I’ll have some extra help at the shop, giving me more time to check in on Sawyer during the day.
“You’re stubborn.”
“You talk so sweet to me,” he says with a grin, then closes his eyes again. The pain is written all over his face even though he’s trying really hard to play it off. I know he left too soon. But there wasn’t anything I could do once he signed the release paperwork.
“Yeah, well, don’t get used to it.” The windows in my apartment have all been replaced, but the blinds are down, sealing me in from the outside. It’s an adjustment to be in here with no natural light, since I always left that window over my kitchen open.
But seeing the destruction of Sawyer’s life when we pulled up was hard enough. I don’t know what I’d do if I had to look at it right now, too.
“We’ll be back in a bit with the spoils of our shopping trip,” Garrison says. “How do you feel about lace and ruffles?” he asks.
“I look great in anything,” Sawyer replies, his eyes still closed.
Since everything he owned went up in flames, the guys have graciously agreed to do some shopping for him. Clearly, he trusts them a whole lot more than I would. Even with his recent near-death experience, I absolutely expect them to come back with ruffles of some kind.
“Call if you need us.” Weston opens the door and steps into the hall.
“Lock up behind us,” Garrison adds.
The shop is open below, with Tessa, Katelyn, and Zane working to keep things moving, but I’ve been told that, even if the shop is open, if I’m up here, the door is to remain locked.
At all times.
I shiver. How is this my life?
“Come here.”
I turn around and see Sawyer reaching for me with the arm not currently in a sling. Because distance just doesn’t make sense, I move toward him, gently sitting on the couch and curling up against him. Sawyer presses a kiss to the top of my head and wraps his arm around me, holding me tightly.
In his arms, there is no danger.
No madman hunting me.
Just him and me.
Two friends who have decided to bet everything on each other and hope they don’t lose it all.
“Thanks for staying with me,” I tell him as I pull away to look into his eyes.
“I wouldn’t be anywhere else. How are you doing?”
“You mean, knowing a crazed serial killer is after me and my boyfriend was blown up two days ago?”
“Boyfriend?” Sawyer questions, arching a brow.
Embarrassment at the slip heats my cheeks. “You know what I mean. We haven’t had that conversation yet, but—”
“I’m here for it. Girlfriend,” he adds. “Man, that feels good. Been a long time coming if you ask me.”
He’s so absolutely adorable that it hurts.
I kiss his cheek. “Can I get you some water? A sandwich?” I start to get up, but he tugs me back down.
“I just need you. And since we’re not going to have a whole lot of quiet time once the shop closes, can we just sit here for a bit?”
I settle back in against him, enjoying the way I fit against his side. How did I never see what a perfect fit we made? There was always attraction, sure, but I’d chosen not to see the rest of it. Why? Because I was afraid?
It seems so foolish now when I’m up against a very real threat.
We wasted all this time. All these years. Who knows where we’d be if one of us had just told the other how we were feeling? Maybe we’d be married. Have a few kids. Maybe none of this would be happening.
“Hey, Sawyer?” I pull away so I can see his face.
“Yeah?”
I love you. That’s what I want to say. Three words I’ve never been able to speak to anyone but family because it felt like giving another piece of my heart away.
I lost one when my dad was killed.
Another when my best friend was murdered.
Will I lose this piece I’ve already given to Sawyer?
“I—if you need something, tell me, okay?”
He smiles. “Okay, Anastasia.”
“How did it go today?” I ask when Zane and Tessa come upstairs just after five-thirty.
“Good.” Tessa retrieves a glass from the cabinet and gets some water.
“I don’t know how you do that all day,” Zane says as he takes a seat on the couch, a couple of feet from Sawyer.
“Ignore him. You know your brother; he’s only social to a point.”
I laugh, so happy that they have each other.
“I can’t blame you there,” Sawyer adds.
“Whatever, you’re more social than all of us,” Tessa says.
“Nah, that’s just my charm. I can turn it on and off.”
“Yeah, yeah. I’m going to grab a shower.
” She kisses Zane, then heads down the hall while I finish cutting up an onion and put it in a roasting pan.
Sawyer insisted on coming in here earlier and cutting up the potatoes that are currently boiling on the stove, but when he nearly fell over, I convinced him to sit back down.
Now he’s begrudgingly watching reruns of Psych on TV.
As I finish arranging the onion and move onto the Brussels sprouts I’d partially prepped, Zane gets up and comes into the kitchen. Since our dad died when I was still relatively young, Zane became more than a big brother to me.
We grew up closer than siblings, and aside from Sawyer, he’s my best friend.
“Hey, can I help?”
“Sure, if you feel up for peeling the carrots.” I point toward the washed and dried stack of carrots next to the cutting board.
“These are purple.” He holds up a purple carrot.
“Yes, now can you tell me what color that one is?” I ask, gesturing to a yellow one. “They’re rainbow carrots,” I tell him with a laugh.
“I have never seen a purple carrot.”
“That’s because you don’t cook.” I stick my tongue out at him while he starts peeling into the bin that will go to my compost outside.
“So, how are things?”
“You mean ever since my entire life was turned upside down because someone who wants to get back at my ex-boyfriend blew up the house and business of my new boyfriend?”
Zane chuckles softly. “So, you guys have a label now.”
“Something like that. And, not super—to answer your earlier question. But I did get a lot of cookies baked. Three dozen peanut butter.”
“Sawyer’s favorite,” Zane comments, then sets down one peeled carrot before moving on to the next.
“Yeah, well, he did get blown up because of me.”
“Not because of you,” Zane corrects.
“Might as well be. I’m the one who called him.” Tears prick the corners of my eyes, and I have to take a moment. I’ve been trying so hard to hold it together, but every time I see him—every time he winces in pain, I picture him grabbing me and spinning us so that it was his back to the explosion.
Him who took the hit.
“Stasia,” Zane says softly, using a nickname I haven’t heard since I was a child. He sets down the carrots and crosses over toward me, so I leave the Brussels sprouts where they are and turn toward him.
Zane wraps his strong arms around me, and I’m no longer an adult.
Here, in my big brother’s arms, I’m a little girl again. Seeking comfort after falling off my bike.
“I was so scared that I’d lost him, Zane,” I whisper. Pulling away, I wipe my eyes and glance over at the couch where Sawyer is still watching TV, his back to me.
“That’s not a great feeling,” he responds. “I’m so glad I didn’t lose either of you.” He returns to peeling carrots, so I move back to the sprouts, slicing partway through the stem, then turning them and cutting them in half the other way.
I line them on the baking sheet right next to the onions.
“Do you think Jack is right? Do you think whoever is harassing me is the same one who killed those twelve women?”
Zane’s expression tells me all I need to know. That, yes, he does. “What I know for sure is that we’re not taking any chances. Until they catch this guy, we’re going to do whatever we need to do to keep you safe.”
But for how long? This guy supposedly waited three years before surfacing again. What if he lingers just long enough that we let our guards down?
What then?