CHAPTER FORTY-THREE
Sawyer could have watched the stars with Angela in his arms all night. But the longer he stayed on that blanket, the more he hated how their bond would end. The more he hated their ending, the harder he tried to pretend he hadn’t fallen for her. On and on, logic and emotion fought until he brought Angela inside from their night of stargazing.
Their bags were identical tactical duffels from Titan headquarters, though Sawyer hadn’t packed his nearly as full. He walked down the upstairs hallway and past his old bedroom to the guest room, where he put Angela’s bag on the bed.
His mom had set fresh towels on the bed and left a bottle of water on the nightstand. He wondered if his parents had any clue that it pained Sawyer to sleep across the hall from Angela as though they were only co-workers.
He tossed his bag into his familiar bedroom and returned to the living room, where his mom held court, walking Angela down memory lane with a photo album spread between them.
“You’re boring her to death,” he said.
Angela looked up. Her laughter and smile were too big, and her eyes were threatening to water. “Not a chance.”
“But it’s late.” His mom shifted the album onto the coffee table. “I think your dad’s already asleep.” She touched Angela’s shoulder. “It has been so nice to meet you.” Then she glided by, giving Sawyer a knowing look that he would rather not have seen.
“Night, Ma.” He kissed her cheek. “See you tomorrow.”
After they were alone, Angela asked, “You played Puck in your high school production of A Midsummer’s Night Dream ?”
“God.” He dropped his head back and groaned. “There are some memories that need to stay buried.”
“I bet you were hysterical.”
He refused to see if any photographic evidence was waiting to embarrass him on the coffee table. “No wonder I jumped headfirst into the Marines.”
“Speaking of which, did I mention you were a perfectly adorable jarhead?” She flipped toward the back of the photo album. “You look so young.”
He ran his hand through his scraggly locks. “I was.”
Angela studied the picture and then him. “I like it better longer.” She squinted. “Then again, if you still had that baby face…”
“I did not have a baby face.” Sawyer sat next to her on the couch. “Give me a break. This is just after boot camp. I was a hardened Marine.”
She snorted.
He rolled his eyes and turned the page—there he was with Penny. Sawyer had completely forgotten that day. He leaned closer for a better look. “God. We were so young.” He tried to remember that day’s details. Maybe it was one of the first days after he’d survived Parris Island. Funny how he could study that picture and not feel sad or even nostalgic. He just couldn’t get over how young he and Penny looked.
“I’m sorry. I wasn’t trying to be nosy—”
“No, don’t be. I’m not.” He tapped the picture. “She’s not a secret. I’m not pining over my dead wife.” Though he had avoided speaking of Penny and William for years. “She was an important part of my life.” He waited for the guilt or misery or fear to drive daggers into his lungs. No such sensation was there, only a semi-odd feeling that he wanted Angela to know more about Penny. The two women were nothing alike. He didn’t want to compare them, yet it was hard not to remember that past and wonder about his future. “You would’ve liked her.”
“I bet I would have,” she said with quiet hesitation, as though she believed him but didn’t understand it was okay to feel that way.
Sawyer ran a hand through his hair instead of reaching for Angela. He hadn’t done enough to comfort her in a house where Penny had been more than comfortable. He needed to fix that. They couldn’t stay in this house tonight if Angela were looking over her shoulder for a ghost.
Sawyer nodded toward the photo album. “You want to know how young we were?” He shook his head at what now seemed so absurd but, at the time, only made sense. “We got married on our senior skip day. Right before we graduated.” His chest rumbled with laughter. “And my nice, sweet parents? They nearly killed us both.”
Angela’s mouth fell open.
“Yup.” He laughed. “You and I had very different extracurricular activities in high school.”
She kept gaping.
“Oh, come on, Ange. It’s not that crazy.”
“Yeah, it is.” She blinked hard. “You were so responsible. Enlisting. Getting married—and I was—”
“—doing what you needed to do, sweetheart. Don’t compare.”
“It’s hard not to. You’ve always been so responsible. Such a caretaker.”
“Trust me when I tell you, responsibility wasn’t what was driving me at the time.”
She shook her head. “You have no idea how mature and responsible you were—and still are.”
How could that be true when he was actively avoiding a future with Angela? The mental barriers he’d built long ago were part of his life. That was the opposite of being responsible and mature. He’d been hiding. But, damn, when she was with him, he saw past the self-imposed rules, the barriers. He almost wanted to knock them down.
Would it be such a bad thing if they fell away?
Sawyer waited for anxiety to thread through the fibers in his heart and chest. It had done so recently when he learned Amanda and Chelsea were both pregnant. But right now, fear seemed slow to arrive.
Angela shut the photo album and stood up. “I should go to bed.”
“Don’t go.” He snaked his arm around the back of her legs and pulled her in front of him. Sawyer held her in place and tilted his head back. He needed to say so many things, but his mind drew a blank. Instead, he dropped his chin, damn near like he was praying, and pressed his forehead against her stomach. “Not yet.”
Now Angela brushed her hand through his hair. He couldn’t move, paralyzed, prostrating himself to the woman he loved.
“Sawyer,” she said in a voice that showed she understood she was his world. “I’m going to miss this when we’re home.” Angela kissed her fingers, pressed them against his cheek, and left him alone on the couch.
If things could be different, if he were that strong, responsible man who Angela saw, Sawyer would be a happy man with a very different life.