Page 37 of Heartsmashed
“I still care about you, Sawyer,” he murmured as my breath hitched. His voice was soft and reminded me of lazy mornings in bed back when things had been good.
I hated that some part of me still responded. Still remembered.
It wasn’t until he said, “I’d hate to see you get hurt,” that I was able to see through the fog.
I jerked back, out of his orbit, and he dropped his arm.
“Don’t,” I said, my voice sharp. “You don’t get to do that anymore. Touch me, say that shit. Stop.”
Peter’s expression flickered, and it wasn’t regret I saw there—more like irritation that his play hadn’t landed the way he wanted it to.
“I’m just trying to look out for you,” he said.
“By showing up here with someone else so I could see how well you’re doing?” I let out a disbelieving laugh, shaking my head. “Wow. Super convincing.”
“That’s not?—”
“No? Because from where I’m standing, it kind of looks like you wanted me to see you and Alec and how easy it is for you now. That’s what you just said, right? Uncomplicated. Howgreatfor you.”
The muscles in Peter’s jaw clenched, but he didn’t deny it.
“I didn’t think you’d spiral like you did,” he said. “The radio show, the?—”
“Stop it.” I held up a hand. “You don’t get a say in how I handle my life. You don’t get to show up here and decide how I’m doing now, either. You left. I got the picture.”
For a second, neither of us spoke, and it was only then that I realized we were still surrounded by people and not in a private bubble.
Peter sighed and looked away, shoving his hands in his pockets. “You always did this. Acted like you’re fine when you’re not.”
“Or maybe Iamfine.”
“With him?”
There was something in the way he said it, like he couldn’t decide if Beckett were a joke or a threat.
“Yeah,” I said, and this time it came easier. “With him.”
Peter looked up at me, but then his eyes shifted to a point behind me.
“Sawyer.”
Beckett.
I didn’t even realize how tense I’d been until I heard his voice. It cut through all the bullshit, and my shoulders dropped with relief as I turned.
He had a couple of white towels slung over one shoulder, a bottle of water in his hand, and an alertness behind his eyes as they flicked between the two of us.
When he stopped beside me, he handed me the water, his hand moving to my back. “Everything good here?”
Peter straightened, an edge in his voice when he said, “We were in the middle of a conversation.”
“Looked like it. Say everything you need to?”
Peter looked at me, but I wasn’t giving him any room to continue trying to manipulate me. This was just a game to him, and I was grateful to have Beckett there to keep me from doing something stupid.
Which, at the moment, involved tripping him into the mud pit.
“Yes,” I said, twisting open the bottle cap on the water and lifting it to my lips. “I think he got it all out.”
