Chapter 29

chapter

twenty-nine

The roar of a motorcycle's engine drew Lucy to her front window. In the driveway sat a Harley. She vaguely recognized the tattooed man sitting astride it—one of the Redwood Coast Rescue guys—but she couldn't recall his name.

What was he doing here?

Oh, God. Was Sawyer okay?

She rushed to the door and yanked it open as the big man reached her porch. His leather boots thudded heavily on the wooden steps as he climbed them two at a time. He removed his helmet, revealing skull-trimmed hair and a series of wicked scars running across his head.

"Lucy?" His voice was a low rumble.

"What's going on?"

"Name's Donovan Scott."

Donovan. Right. He'd been there that night. The night she'd torn out her own heart to protect the man who meant more to her than anything. "What's wrong?"

"You need to come with me."

Her heart slammed against her ribs. He looked so serious, so grim. Oh God, something was wrong with Sawyer. She grabbed her coat, locked her door, and hurried after him. "Is Sawyer all right?"

He handed her a black helmet. "I've been instructed not to discuss it with you until we get there."

Lucy's stomach twisted into a knot as she buckled the helmet with shaking hands. He was told not discuss it? That could only mean bad news. Terrible news. She climbed onto the back of the motorcycle, the heat of the engine seeping through her jeans.

Donovan revved the throttle, and the bike lurched forward. Lucy grabbed his waist to keep from tumbling off the back. The wind whipped at her clothes as they sped through town, taking turns so sharply she thought they might tip right over.

Her mind raced as they wove through the quiet neighborhood streets and merged onto the highway heading north out of town.

What could have happened to Sawyer? Was he hurt? In trouble? A thousand terrible scenarios played out in her imagination.

Dying?

Already dead?

Oh, God. No.

They roared down the winding coastal road. Normally, she loved this stretch of highway with its breathtaking ocean views, and she was glad to see the earthquake hadn't caused much damage here, but she couldn't focus on the beauty of the ride. Her stomach churned with dread.

Why had she let her fears get the best of her?

Why had she pushed him away?

Had she lost him?

After what felt like an eternity, they pulled off the highway onto a barely there gravel road. Her hands fisted in Donovan's leather jacket. Where the hell was he taking her?

"Almost there," Donovan called over his shoulder.

Where was "there"? His cryptic words did nothing to halt the onslaught of fear that threatened to swallow her whole.

A few minutes later, Donovan abruptly slowed, pulled off the dirt road, and parked under a stand of towering redwoods. He killed the engine and swung his leg over the bike, gaze scanning their surroundings as if expecting an ambush.

He then turned to Lucy, his hardened features softening somewhat. "We can walk from here," he said, pulling off his helmet.

Lucy followed suit, her hands trembling as she unclipped her helmet.

The cool, salty ocean breeze was undercut with the earthy scent of the forest. She looked around the unfamiliar clearing. The only sounds were distant sea waves and the wind whispering through the towering trees. It felt... peaceful. But a sense of foreboding still lingered like an unwelcome shadow.

Donovan waited for her to dismount before beginning a silent trek deeper into the woods, his heavy boots crunching dried leaves and twigs underfoot. Lucy followed, a rush of adrenaline pumping through her veins with every beat of her racing heart.

Just when her anxiety was about to overtake her, Donovan stopped abruptly and stepped aside, holding out his arm. "We're here."

She walked past him and gasped. Below was a cove carved out of the cliffs, a private sanctuary with crashing waves, and a pristine beach. A small fire was burning, casting a warm orange glow against the coming twilight, and a familiar silhouette was seated next to it.

Sawyer.

The relief that flooded through her was so intense she nearly collapsed. Then she scowled at Donovan and gave his solid shoulder a hard shove. He didn't move. "You made me think he was hurt."

He grinned and held up his big hands. "All I did was take you on a nice motorcycle ride up the coast, as instructed."

She opened her mouth to retort, but the words caught in her throat as all the fear and worry of the last hour drained away, replaced by a rush of warmth and affection. "He… told you to take me on your motorcycle?"

"Bribed me," Donovan corrected, then grabbed her by the shoulders and turned her toward the path leading down to the beach.

Sawyer was seated on a picnic blanket near the shoreline. His head was tipped back, face directed towards the sky as though he were taking in the stars. Of course, she knew he couldn't see them—the fact never failed to make her heart ache.

Tears rushed into her eyes. She understood what was happening now. It was their date—the one Sawyer had promised her.

"Now go put that man out of his misery already," Donovan said, giving her a little push. "He's been moping for days."

Lucy swallowed hard, her throat tight with a mix of relief and anticipation. She glanced back at Donovan. "Bribe or not, thank you."

His grin softened, and she realized under his gruff exterior was a big romantic. "He's one of the best men I know and deserves some happiness."

Sawyer did deserve happiness. And, she realized, she would give anything to be the one who gave it to him.

"So do you, Lucy," Donovan added softly. "There are so many things to be afraid of in life, but love isn't one of them. Don't waste this opportunity."

With that, he turned away and strode back through the forest, leaving her alone on the cliff's edge overlooking the secluded cove. Taking a deep breath, she began her descent down the narrow, winding path toward the beach below, a flurry of emotions coursing through her. The relief of seeing Sawyer okay and the anger for the near heart attack she'd just suffered battled fiercely inside her chest. But underneath it all, there was a spark of joy. And an incredible surge of love.

As soon as her boots hit the sand, Sawyer seemed to sense her presence. He turned toward the sound of her approach. "Lucy?"

"Sawyer," she breathed, bursting with feelings she couldn't contain any longer. She covered the distance between them in just a few strides.

He rose to meet her as she did him and opened his arms wide. She launched herself at him, wrapping her arms tightly around his neck, burying her face in his shoulder. He stumbled back a step, but caught his balance and held her close, his arms pressing her to him.

"Sawyer," she repeated his name like a prayer, the words slipping past choked sobs. "You... you jerk. You scared the hell out of me!" But there was no real heat in her voice.

Sawyer cupped the back of her head with one hand while his other slipped down to run the length of her spine in a soothing rhythm. "I'm sorry, Luce. I didn't mean to scare you. I just… needed you to come," he admitted in a low voice.

"You could have just asked me like a normal person."

Sawyer's face softened, a hint of a smile playing around his lips. "I thought Donovan would have made it clear that nothing was wrong."

Lucy rolled her eyes. "Donovan is about as clear as mud."

He winced. "Yeah, sorry. He can be…"

"Scary?"

He chuckled. "I was going to say gruff, but scary works, too. But at his heart, he's a good guy, and I needed him. I promised you a motorcycle ride and I obviously couldn't drive it myself."

Despite herself, she felt her lips twitch into a smile. "So… are you going to serenade me badly now with your non-existent guitar skills?"

He winced and released her long enough to pull her toward the picnic blanket. "I thought we'd skip that part, but we do have wine and cheese, as promised."

She stared at the spread. If her heart weren't already a puddle for him, it would've melted right then. "Sawyer?"

He half-turned, wine bottle in hand. "Yes?"

"I love you."

He fumbled the bottle. "Oh. Wow. Okay, I thought I was going to have to do a bit more work before I heard those words."

She stepped forward to take the bottle from him. "Well, I can make you work for it if you really want."

His pale blue eyes widened in surprise before crinkling at the corners as a grin spread across his face. "No, no," he said quickly, holding up his hands in surrender. "I'm absolutely fine with not having to work for it."

She laughed again and moved a little closer, her heart pounding wildly in her chest. The tension and fear from earlier had faded into something warm and sweet— a feeling she realized she wanted to hold onto forever.

Her voice was barely above a whisper when she asked, "Sawyer, do you still love me? I was such an ass. I shouldn't have pushed you away, but I was so scared."

He looked at her with such open affection in those unseeing eyes that it stole her breath away.

"Lucy Harper," he said softly, tracing his hands over her shoulders and up her neck to her face. He tucked a loose strand of hair behind her ear. "I've loved you since the moment I found you. It was dark, you were hurt, and you needed someone. And in that moment, I realized that I wanted to be that someone for you. Always." He leaned in closer, bringing their faces just inches apart. "And every day since then, I fell a little more in love with you. The way you laugh at my terrible jokes, how fiercely you fight for what you believe in, your stubbornness–God, Lucy, even your stubbornness… I love all of it." His voice fell to a whisper, his forehead resting gently against hers. "And I especially love how just when I think I've got you figured out, you surprise me all over again."

"Sawyer…" she began, her voice choked with emotion. But he placed a finger gently against her lips, silencing her.

"I'm not finished yet," he told her, his face serious. "You've made it clear that your past has made you wary of relationships. You've also made it clear that you're scared – scared of me leaving, scared of me getting hurt again." He took a deep breath before continuing. "I want you to know that I'm here for the long haul. I don't know what the future holds, but I know that whatever it is, I want to face it with you. And as for your past… we all have one. But it's just that—a past. It doesn't define us or dictate our future. I'm not your ex-husband, and I will spend every day for the rest of my life proving that to you."

The lump in her throat quadrupled in size, and she felt tears well up in her eyes. "You don't need to. I already know it."

"Okay." His thumbs swept over her cheeks, catching her tears. "Good. But I still want to spend the rest of my life with you."