Chapter 21

TWENTY-ONE

Saylor

That statement comes out of nowhere and now I'm confused.

He wants to make it right?

What does that mean?

"Canyon, what are you?—"

He wraps his arms around my waist and pulls me against his chest, an earnest look in his eyes. "I know it's crazy. I know I'm kind of a wild card for you, because I'm anti-relationship and now I have an eleven-year-old in my life who's going to make everything a thousand times more complicated. I travel for hockey and party too much. I'm not particularly fun to hang out with and I'm probably in a bad mood more than I'm not. But there's something between us and... fuck, but I want to know what it is."

I stare because I truly hadn't been expecting this kind of honesty. I'd been expecting excuses. And lame ones, at that.

This comes from somewhere deep inside of him, a place I'm sure he doesn't tap into very often.

"I said what I said because somewhere deep down, I think I meant it," he continues when I can't think of how to respond. "I know that sounds dumb, but I'm trying to be honest here. Because I really like you, Saylor."

What on earth am I supposed to say?

I appreciate his candor, and the fact that he's trying to be insightful, but where does any of that leave me?

I'm not cool with being anyone's afterthought girlfriend, which is a little what this sounds like. He's not playing games, but he's also not sure what he wants, which leaves me more vulnerable than I'm comfortable with.

"I'm not going to be anyone's afterthought," I say, gently pulling away. "Because I really like you too. I knew from the first time we slept together that you could be addictive, but I was willing to take the risk because…"

"Because why?" He presses.

This is hard to say, but if he can be open, so can I.

"Because really good sex, with someone handsome and interesting, is incredibly hard to find," I admit.

Frankly, I'm expecting him to be insulted.

I would be if he'd said that to me.

To my surprise, he throws back his head and laughs.

A real laugh.

Like from his gut, almost bordering a belly laugh.

And I've never seen him laugh before. Not like this.

"What's funny?" I demand after a moment, though I'm chuckling too.

"Sorry." He's still shaking his head, a gorgeous smile on his face.

Why doesn't he smile more often? It's freakin' breathtaking.

"It's just… we're complete opposites. I can find good sex anywhere. Seriously, sex is good for me because as the guy, I can almost always make it good. But finding a woman I like, who listens and isn't desperately trying to wife me up or is after my money, is like a God damn unicorn. Meanwhile, I'm sure you have no trouble finding guys who want to date you, be with you, marry you—but you can't find a guy who knows how to make you come."

There is a fair amount of irony and humor in this.

"So, what does that mean?" I ask. "For us."

"It means we could potentially make something really good together."

My breath hitches.

Is he yanking my chain?

He can't be opening up like this because he wants to get laid.

Hell, if he'd made a move, we'd already be naked.

So this is something else.

"You want to date?" I ask. "For real? Beyond what we talked about before you called me your girlfriend?"

He hesitates, his eyes never leaving mine. "I can't make you any promises, babe. But yeah. I want to date. For real."

I narrow my gaze. "You know that the press will potentially be all over this. We've been under the radar so far because it's been late nights and some private events with our friends. But if we start going places as a couple, the paparazzi will find me. They always do."

"That's all right. I'm not hiding anything."

"What about Ally?"

I see the first flicker of doubt. "It's going to be complicated. I mean, she already hates me, and didn't seem overly impressed with you either. The only person she likes so far is Stevie, and she's civil with Autumn."

"You could date Stevie," I suggest playfully.

"No thanks." He leans forward, his lips grazing mine. "Not my type."

"No? She's more your age."

"Boring."

"It would make things easier with Ally."

"Ally doesn't get to dictate who I care about."

I wind my arms around his neck. "Where is she, by the way?"

"Shopping with Stevie. We have until eight."

"Really." I shake my ponytail loose and let my hair flow around my shoulders. "That's hours from now."

"I know." His lips continue to toy with mine, a playful precursor to foreplay.

"There has to be more to us than sex," I whisper against his mouth.

"Isn't there?" He doesn't move away, but he stops kissing me.

"You tell me."

"Babe…" His eyes are strangely intent. "Please don't take this the wrong way—but I have probably a dozen numbers in my contacts right now, all women who'd be completely on board with letting me come over for nothing more than sex. Any time, any place. So there's a hell of a lot more than sex going on here."

Okay, then.

I guess that answers that.

I can't think of any more questions or objections.

"Take me to bed, Canyon."

* * *

Three orgasms and a shower later, we're in the living room eating Chinese food in front of the fireplace. It's been colder than usual the last week, so it feels good to snuggle together as we eat.

"So, you hadn't talked to your sister at all?" I ask. "Before she died?"

He shakes his head. "She tried to call me a couple of times recently, but I didn't answer because I figured she wanted money. Now I wish I'd answered. Maybe she'd still be alive."

"If she overdosed, you know that's not true. It might not have happened when it did, but it was coming."

He sighs. "My brain knows that, but my heart is struggling."

"That's only natural. No matter what happened, she's still your sister."

"I feel guilty that I didn't answer, and then I feel guilty that I'm not more upset than I am since I feel like I lost her a long time ago."

"Will you tell me what happened between you?"

He puts down the carton of shrimp fried rice and wipes his mouth. "You really want to hear it? Some of it is gross."

"Sure." I tuck my legs under me and shift so I'm facing him.

"Carly was two years older than me. She started dating this guy Shawn when she was fifteen. He was a few years older, and none of us liked him. My mom was still alive then, and she would always say that Carly would outgrow him, that she'd figure out he wasn't the right guy in her own time. Except when she was sixteen, she got pregnant. She tried to have an abortion, but I guess she chickened out? By the time she told my parents, she was too far along. Shawn had ghosted her, and she was seventeen when Ally was born.

"At first, it wasn't too bad. My parents were disappointed that it happened, but Ally was so cute, and Carly was doing well in school so we coasted along. Then, right after she graduated, our mom was diagnosed with cancer and Shawn came back. Suddenly he had this intense need to claim his family. He wanted to be a dad, be with Carly." He makes a face, his eyes suddenly very far away. "Of course, what he really wanted was to use them for his drug deals. I mean, cops wouldn't think twice about a young couple out taking their baby for a walk in her stroller, right?"

I grimace. "Yikes."

"We didn't know what was going on at first, because Carly seemed happy. I was a typical seventeen-year-old, in my junior year of high school a couple hours away from home. I went to a boarding school that had an intensive hockey program, so that took up most of my time. In the middle of all that, Mom was dealing with her breast cancer treatment, so there was a lot going on."

He's quiet for a beat, and it's obvious he's gone back in time, reliving whatever it was that happened.

"Anyway, it was summer. I was getting ready for senior year, I had a part-time job, a girlfriend who was putting out—" He has a wry smile as he says it. "You know, all the things seventeen-year-olds live for. I should have been paying more attention…"

"You were seventeen," I say gently, reaching for his hand. "Nothing going on was your fault."

"I know, but looking back, I knew Shawn wasn't a good guy. I should have seen the signs. Carly was using by that point, and with Mom having chemo, no one paid much attention to her. So one day in August, Dad's at the hospital with Mom, Carly's out somewhere, and I get home early from work. There's music on, but I hear Ally crying in the bedroom, so I go in that direction. I open the door and…" He lets out a shaky breath. "Fuck. I'll never wipe that image from my mind."

My heart rate has kicked up because I'm not sure what's coming. "Oh, fuck."

"He had his fingers…" He grimaces. "Where they shouldn't be."

"Oh my fucking God. He was… I mean, wasn't she just a baby?" I'm sickened just listening to it.

"She was two!" He's squeezing my hand so hard I'm afraid he's going to break it, but I don't dare move. "And I snapped. I've never in my life felt that much rage, Saylor."

"Of course, you felt rage."

"I hurt him," he whispers, dropping his head. "Bad."

"Good!"

"Carly came home in the middle of it, and of course, he lied. Said I just started pounding on him for no reason." He shudders and I reach out, wrapping my arms around him.

"It's okay," I whisper. "It was a long time ago."

"Sometimes it feels like yesterday. I can still see him lying there on the floor, covered in blood, missing a couple of teeth. I can hear Ally crying. Carly screaming." Another shudder.

All I can do is hold him.

I can practically feel his pain, his regret.

"Then my dad got home. Carly was threatening to call the police, Shawn was a mess, and my dad just looked at me. He said, ‘Did he deserve it?' And I said, ‘he had his fingers inside of her.' Carly started screaming that I was a liar, that he would never do that, that I was probably the one doing that. She was hysterical, completely irrational. Around that time, Shawn came to and started trying to defend himself…" He buries his head in my shoulder. "…accusing me of the same thing Carly had.

"Carly's trying to call 911, Shawn says he's going to have me arrested for battery or some shit, but my dad stopped them. He basically offered Shawn five grand to leave and never come back. Carly is freaking out, the baby hasn't stopped crying, and Shawn is laughing like a lunatic."

"Oh, Canyon." I stroked his hair, wishing I hadn't brought it up, but now with a better understanding of who he is and why he's so closed off.

"My dad was afraid that if they called the cops, it would ruin my chances to play in the NHL. An accusation like that, even though it wasn't true, could ruin me. Not to mention, my mom was at the end of her life, and he didn't have the bandwidth for any more stress. He wanted it to go away even though I was willing to let them call the cops, so they would investigate Shawn. But as you can imagine, Shawn took the five grand and left, and Carly never forgave us for that."