19. Luna #2
“My father, mostly.” I lift a shoulder as if it doesn’t mean everything to me.
As if I haven’t dedicated my life to the human mind and all its wonder.
“He owns a corporate intelligence firm called Apex Analytics. I plan on working full-time as a psychological operations specialist when I graduate. Then once he dies, I’ll take over the company. ”
Sawyer tucks his arm behind his head to use it as a pillow. He stares at me a few moments, the squint of his eyes making me want to squirm.
What does he see?
“Is that what you want?” he asks at last.
I smile. “It’s not as boring as it sounds.”
His lips purse as he shakes his head. “It doesn’t sound boring at all.”
My smile falls when he doesn’t go on, but his eyes look no less scrutinizing. I can’t tell what he’s thinking, and I hate that. I hate it even more now than I did an hour ago when I hadn’t been able to read a single thought.
“What?” I finally ask, laughing to cover up my discomfort.
He quirks his lips half-heartedly. “Nothing… You just sound kind of flippant. Most people would say they’d take over the company when their father retired. Not died. But…” He shrugs.
My face falls as blood drains. I can’t think fast enough to hide my reaction, so instead I look away.
“Hey.” Sawyer rolls onto his side to face me and tucks my hair behind my ear. “What’s wrong?”
I shake my head.
“I didn’t mean that as an insult.”
When his hand feels too intrusive, I pull away from his touch. “I know. Sorry, I just…” Deep breath. Our eyes meet. “People have told me I’m too cold. I’m a little … sensitive.”
A smile stretches across his face. “You mean, you don’t like it when people insinuate that you might be a bad person?”
I don’t understand the irony in his voice for several seconds, but when it registers, I return his smile. Though I don’t agree that he and I could ever be compared.
But we do have similar weak spots. The key to lowering Sawyer’s guard is appealing to his humanity. The key to lowering mine is stepping on my shame.
All good information to have.
I clear my throat and focus my attention on the bulge in Sawyer’s shirt. Blowing out a breath, I tap the little shell. “Where did this come from?”
Sawyer pulls the necklace from his shirt and glances down at it. “My island.”
I squint at the chip on the shell. “Did your island have no better options?”
He chuckles, but he isn’t amused. He almost looks sad as he gently tucks the shell away. “It was a gift from a friend. She liked imperfect things.”
“Mm.” I nod while taking in the grief he tries to keep off his face. I can see why he likes to read people, dissect their lives without them divulging their secrets. It’s powerful. “Were you one of those imperfect things?”
He doesn’t respond. My mind takes me back to that first day when he told me about his deceased wife. He had tears in his eyes that I found incredible.
“Was she one of the women you…?”
Kidnapped.
Raped.
Brutalized.
He nods. “Her name was Annie.”
I peer into his eyes and don’t bother asking how she died. I already know.
She was poisoned… Somebody tainted bottles of champagne at a charity event she organized. The detectives said it was a criminal group targeting an individual there.
At the time, I thought it was a strange, tragic death. Later, I wondered why he didn’t choose something simpler. Now I know.
Annie was his victim, not his wife. She was poisoned by someone who was targeting Sawyer.
It’s his fault. It’s his fault, and he looks like he knows it.
“Did you love her?” I ask, watching his face carefully. The sadness doesn’t leave, not even for a moment. He isn’t thinking up his next lie.
“I don’t know,” he says. “I’m not sure I even know what love is.”
Truth.
I’m getting good at this.
“What about you?” He clears emotion from his throat. “Is there a guy back home pining for you?”
I hesitate to answer … but it’d be stupid to lie. A few meaningless truths make the necessary lies believable.
“Yes.”
“Do you love him?”
This time, I don’t hesitate. “No.”
He cringes, though his lips lift. “Ouch… Poor loverboy.”
I don’t know what I should say. My cheeks start to redden as guilt settles even though I’ve told myself a thousand times I’ve done nothing wrong. Long before Sawyer.
“Maybe I do,” I lie. It strikes me that I’m pulling a move like Sawyer. Lying to make myself feel better. “But I wouldn’t know… Love is a mystery to me as well.”
Sawyer adjusts his pants, his boxers soaking up the evidence of our betrayal. Well, my betrayal. Annie is dead.
And this isn’t my fault. I don’t want this.
I need this. I need to at least try to win him over. He’s already shown me where he’s vulnerable.
He sits up; brushes his shorts. “Well, here’s to finding it someday.” He gives me a smile that makes my throat swell. I don’t open my mouth, but he doesn’t wait for me to respond anyway.
His attention draws to something on the ground. I follow his eyes, squinting until I make out the figure leaned against a tree. All blonde hair and tanned legs.
Sawyer waves.
She doesn’t wave back.
“Who’s that?” I ask him as she starts to walk away in confident strides.
A better question would be, why is she watching us.
When I turn to Sawyer, he’s cringing at a watch—never on his wrist, always in his pocket. He tucks it away and blinks as if he’s just remembered I’m here.
“Hmm?”
“Who was that watching us?”
“Oh.” His gaze draws to the ground for a moment. “That was the Chief Elder’s daughter. I forgot I was supposed to meet her for an update about something.” He smiles. A sort of whoops that doesn’t reach his eyes.
His throat clears. “We should probably go.”
He stands. Holds out his hand.
I want to ask more.
What update?
But I know he wouldn’t tell me. I’ve already squeezed as much as I can for today.
Tomorrow, I’ll try again.
I take his hand and let him lead me back to the old house, neither of us saying anything, both feeling as though we’ve said too much. I don’t expect his guard to be lowered again for a while, but I’ll be there when it is.
And I’ll be ready.