Chapter 19

Sawyer

Reece is already on the gravel road, walking in the direction of his apartment when I fire up the truck. I'm the asshole here, making him feel like he's done something wrong when the whole problem is that I can't look at him without remembering all the things I made Asher do and say in bed.

I get the truck onto the road and slow down alongside him. "Reece," I call out.

He turns, cupping his hand over his forehead to block out the sun.

"Let me give you a ride home."

He laughs. "It's like ten minutes. It's fine."

"Yeah, well, it'll be a minute if we drive. Come on. Get in."

"Uh, okay."

The drive is literally a minute but I manage to fantasize about this man sitting next to me as if time is infinite. So many thoughts in sixty seconds. My body stirs, just thinking about how Asher and I got off this past weekend. My head is nothing but a clusterfuck of thoughts and the only thing keeping my mind from splitting apart is the fact that Asher isn't divorcing me over all of it.

"Hey, can we stop at the General Store for a second?" he asks.

"Sure. I should go in for some milk too."

Inside the store, Reece heads for the household essentials section and I grab a half-gallon of milk. We end up at the same checkout, with Reece behind me holding a bottle of dish soap and a jar of peanut butter.

" Sawyerrr ." Deliah Smith's ruby red lips widen when I step up to the checkout. She rings up my milk, shifting her eyes between me and Reece. "How are you?" She pushes strands of her auburn hair away from her forehead and her eyes burn with curiosity like a light blue flame. She has a red badge pinned to her cardigan that says: TAKE AMERICA BACK.

"Good, Deliah. Hope you're okay." Because I can't risk asking Deliah how she's doing or I'll be here till tomorrow.

"Hmm." She jerks her head toward Reece, and asks in her nasal voice, "Your friend?"

Dotty already warned him about Deliah so he smiles tightly, not saying anything.

"This is Reece Carter. He's new in town."

She gives Reece a once-over, her smile turning into a knowing grin. "Oh, I know. Quiet one, aren't you?" she tells Reece.

Then, before he can answer, she carries on. "I heard Al's got only three months to live," she says. "I was telling Mr. Duncan – Gerald – about it and he said he heard it was six months."

"It's bronchitis, Deliah. And he's going to be fine."

"Well, we'll just have to wait and see, won't we?" She smiles again. "And I hope we'll see you at the election rally next weekend. No one's gonna take care of all of us like Trump, honey. I'm head campaigner for Linksfield this year, and I want to see you there."

I only just manage not to roll my eyes and consider bolting as soon as my milk is paid for, but leaving Reece to deal with Deliah would probably destroy him. So, I wait until he's been rung up and with a wave, we make our getaway.

"Don't be a stranger, Reece," she calls out.

I pull up to the side of Reece's apartment building. "Thanks," he says, but before he gets off, he gives me one last look. "Are you sure this thing of me working with you, staying here and all that hasn't become a problem?"

I wonder what he'll say if I tell him the real reason I can't even look him in the face. I want my husband to fuck you and I want to suck your dick while he's doing it.

Asher used to talk about how anxious he could be. I understand this is just his anxiety acting up and correctly picking up on cues, but he'll never guess the real reason. So, I should just chill the fuck out.

"No. It's not a problem."

"Okay." He stands outside the truck, chewing on his lip. "Do you want to come and see my apartment?" he says suddenly.

I shouldn't.

But he looks so hopeful, and I just know if I say yes his eyes will get all wide and sparkly. These days, all I want is to see those eyes shine like that. "Sure."

And there it is. Reece smiles and stars explode in his eyes.

The apartment is small enough that I can get the gist of everything from right where I'm standing – in the middle of the tiny living room. Still, I follow him when he gives me a tour. On the right, is the kitchen. Left is the living room. Bathroom down the short passage and the bedroom across from it.

I step into his bedroom when he leads the way. Everything is neat and tidy. Reece is a good housekeeper.

Still, even though everything is neat as a pin, he scurries around putting away the book he left on his bed. There's a journal on the nightstand, which he places into the drawer. And a small bag, which he now holds in his hand.

"Sorry, I cleaned up this morning before work . . ." He turns to me, clutching his bottom lip between his teeth and the bag held close to his chest.

"It's totally fine. Your place is great. I like it."

"You like it?"

After knowing him for a little over a month, even though I've known him through Asher for seven years, I still can't get past how someone would bloom open like a flower when you praise them in even the smallest way.

"I really like it," I say, and it's impossible to ignore how pleased he is by my approval.

He seems to remember the thing he has clutched to his chest. Looking at it, his smile disappears and his eyes, when he lifts them to meet mine, now seem unsure of something.

He holds out the bag. It's shiny and see-through. "Did Asher tell you about my – that I had – this belongs – belonged to—"

It's an item of baby clothing. "Your daughter?" My voice has dropped to a level of softness I didn't know I was capable of.

He smiles brightly. "Yes."

Smiling with a broken heart. I wish he would take off the mask for one second and feel his love for his daughter. To feel his grief because his grief proves his love for her. But I understand. Facing the depth of his love for his daughter would break him because he wouldn't know how to find rest from it.

Grief has no home. There's no place for it to go and find rest. It can only walk beside you, a delicate butterfly dragging a mountain of memories behind it until the end of time. Reece's daughter may have lived only fifteen minutes but he'll carry a lifetime of memories, the ones made in those fifteen minutes and the ones he will never get to make.

When my mother died, I thanked the police officer for coming out to tell me about her Diabetes type one and I got on with things. And even though my father isn't dead, he might as well be, and I walk around with a broken heart and a smiling face, feeling like an orphan. I understand Reece's pain.

"Wait," he says. "Let me show you how soft these socks are." His hands shake when he unties the ribbon. I have to look away because I don't feel like I deserve to witness his tightly- contained grief. If there is anyone he should be sharing this with, it's Asher. His best friend.

He holds out the pair of yellow socks to me.

I have to clear my throat before I speak. "Are you sure? I ask. "My hands . . ." I hold them up, palms out. "My hands are dirty. I'll ruin them."

"You can't ruin anything, Sawyer," he says. His eyes stay on me and his words are very, very dangerous.

I step closer, wipe my palms on the side of my jeans, trying to get them clean, and then I take the pair of socks in my hand. He smiles too hard. If he smiles any harder, he'll cry.

"Smell it. Does it smell like a baby? I could – I could never tell. All I could smell that day was that sick medicine smell you get in hospitals."

I hold the material carefully, worried I'll dirty it, and then I lift it to my nose. It doesn't smell like a baby. Not like Ezra, anyway. It doesn't smell like anything. But how do I tell him that when he's looking at me with so much hope in his eyes. The truth will be unbearable.

"It smells like a baby," I tell him.

He smiles.

"I'm sorry about your daughter, Reece," I say as gently as I can manage.

Another bright smile. "Thank you."

He takes the socks from me, places them carefully back into the bag and opens the nightstand drawer.

It's only by God's grace that my phone pings at the exact same moment my eyes land on a monster – and I do mean, fuckin' monster – dildo, all purple and angry-looking, lying innocently inside the drawer. Reece's eyes fly to mine. I try to look away before he realizes I've spotted his monster, but it's all too late.

His face. Oh, my God. I pull my lips into my mouth to keep from smiling, but nothing is ever going to save us from this.

Reece slams the drawer shut and reaches up to scratch his head. "You didn't see that," he says with the most awkward laugh in history.

I shake my head, swallowing my laugh. "I saw nothing but high standards."

My phone buzzes with a phone call and gives him the perfect getaway.

"Hey," I say, answering Pippin's call.

"Hey, Ash is home. Come over for dinner. I made stew."

"Stew?" I ask dryly.

She laughs. "Did I say stew? I meant apple pie."

"You made it or you bought it?" I ask suspiciously, while I try to get the image of Reece fucking himself on that toy out of my head.

"I made it, Sawyer, okay? I don't know why when Asher buys apple pie it's cute and sweet, but when I buy apple pie it's a travesty against humanity," she grumbles.

"Because when you make it, it tastes like Faye's."

There's silence on the other end. I didn't mean to tell the truth and make it serious. "You big baby," she says softly. "Come over. I made apple pie for you."

I walk out of the bedroom to find Reece in the kitchen, pouring two glasses of pop. I . . . don't want to leave him alone. He might cry thinking about his baby, and if Pippin buying apple pie is a travesty, then leaving Reece by himself to be sad when he has friends is something worse than that.

"Hold on a sec, Pip. Tell Ash to check his texts."

I swipe across my screen and send Asher a text: I want to bring Reece over to Pip's place for dinner. Is that okay?

He answers immediately: Yes, bring him over.

Me: And did she really make stew?

Ash: Lol. No. She made chicken teriyaki. Coincidence, because that's Reece's favorite.

Me: Okay, see you soon.

I return to the call with Pippin. "Hey, Pip. Can I bring one of our friends over?"

"Sure. See you in a bit."

Reece looks at me curiously.

I end the call. "I hear your favorite food is chicken teriyaki?" I ask him, taking the glass from him and gulping it down.

"Yeah?"

"You wanna come over for some at my sister's place?"

"The one with the baby?"

"Yeah. You can meet Ezra."

"Are you sure?" His eyes light up and my God, with Asher's permission, I think I could fall in love with this soul.