Page 93 of Heartsmashed
BY THE TIME we made it back to the cabin that night, we were both running on fumes. The day had been nonstop from the second Rome tried to break down our door, and somehow it’d only gotten more chaotic from there. Vow-renewal setup and rehearsal, photos and seating charts and dinner, followed by an impromptu karaoke showdown that lasted until close to midnight.
But more than that, Sawyer had spent the day pretending he wasn’t watching me every time I moved—and he was terrible at pretending. Rome definitely hadn’t given him any tips there, but lucky for Sawyer, I liked watching him back.
After our being surrounded by so many people all day, the quiet of our cabin was welcome. We’d turned all the lights off outside, since the stars were out in full view, and we’d both abandoned our shoes inside before heading out to the porch swing.
“Oh sweet Jesus. No more peopling,” Sawyer said around a groan as he kicked his feet up on the edge of the table. He pushed us off with the tips of his toes and added, “I love my family, I do—I would commit crimes for them and bury the bodies. But Iswear, if one more person asks me where the extra batteries are, I’m changing my name and moving to Canada.”
I stretched my arm along the back of the swing. “Do you actually know where they are?”
“In the box markedextra batteries.”
“Imagine that.”
“Shocking, right?” Sawyer yawned and leaned into my side like he’d been doing it for years, tucking himself under my arm.
He fit there perfectly. It made my heart beat a little too hard and fast, especially knowing that I needed to come clean and this might be the last time he wanted to be with me like this.
I leaned in, nuzzling my nose into his hair and breathing him in.
It had been on my mind all day, lingering like a dark cloud over an otherwise incredible day. I’d been welcomed into his family like I belonged there. His mom had handed me a box and called mesweetheart, and I’d been pulled into family photos and calledTracksuitabout ten different times. Sawyer and I had tried to steal a few more private moments, but they hadn’t lasted long, and now that we were finally alone, the exhaustion from the day had taken over.
“Thank you,” he said, gently rocking the swing back and forth. “You were so great today.”
I knew how much he meant that, and as much as I wanted to take it in, his words made a guilty knot form in my stomach.
I tried to play it off. “That’s not what you said at karaoke.”
He tipped his head back against my shoulder so he could look up at me. “Well, in my defense, I’ve never heard that rendition of “Summer of ’69” before.”
“And you say you’re in radio.”
“Not my fault you hit notes only dogs can hear.” He yawned again, which proved contagious, making me do the same. Thenhis eyes drifted over my face, blinking slowly, and I reached up to run my fingers along the side of his neck.
“I liked today,” he said, his voice barely audible.
I swallowed. “Me too.”
“Yeah?”
“Yeah.” I trailed my fingers up through his hair and he let out a long, contented sigh.
“Feels good,” he murmured.
“So do you.”
Sawyer lifted his head, kissing me softly at first, just a brush of his lips against mine. It made my heart ache in a way I couldn’t explain, and I leaned into it, taking what he offered one last time.
There was no rush, no urgency driving us as we explored each other with long, languid strokes and wandering hands.
After a while, he pulled back, just enough that I rested my forehead against his and closed my eyes.
His palm was warm through my shirt, and as we sat there in silence, I wondered if he could feel the way my heart began to beat faster, if it tipped him off that something was coming, something I didn’t want to say but had to. It was time.
Sawyer shifted to lay his head against my shoulder again, and I stared out at the lake, trying to get my thoughts together. How to tell him so that he wouldn’t hate me afterward—was that even possible? I’d thought of a dozen different ways to do it, but every version sounded wrong. Too defensive or too careful. Too late. Hell, there was no easy way to tell someone you were a liar.
Just say it.
“Sawyer?”
