Series: Fever Falls Series by Riley Hart
Total pages in book: 96
Estimated words: 92704 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 464(@200wpm)___ 371(@250wpm)___ 309(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 92704 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 464(@200wpm)___ 371(@250wpm)___ 309(@300wpm)
“Yeah, I have a feeling, based on the way you looked when I told that story, that if some asshole had done that to Cam, you would have kicked his fucking ass.”
“Eh, you kind of got it backward. Cam always stood up for me. I got bullied in school, which more or less stopped after he let everyone know he’d gladly take on anyone who dared come for his brother. Cam’s not the kind of guy who ever needed anyone to fight his battles. But if he had, I would have been right there for him.” He swallowed like he had a lump in his throat before asking, “And you still give your mom money?”
“She’s my mom.” Maybe it wasn’t enough of an answer, but it was the only one I had. “She raised me. She read me bedtime stories and tucked me in, made me dinners and packed me lunches. Sometimes I wish she were shitty to me in other ways so that I could just see her as some evil monster, but she came to every graduation and celebrated every award I got in school. I used to tell myself she needed the guys for cash, but now, of course, I give her that and still, whatever dickhead she’s with is happy to spend it on whatever vice he’s into so that he can work fewer hours at his job or stop working altogether, which has happened before.”
His grip on my hand firmed. “I’m sorry. I can see why that was weighing on your mind, and I’m glad you shared it with me.”
Even though I’d kept wondering why I’d chosen to tell him, I had to admit, “I’m glad I shared it with you too.” I shook my head. “I’ll be all right,” I continued, hardly believing it. Mostly pissed that my eyes were watering. “I guess I just wish it were like a Disney movie, where mothers are either good guys or bad guys, not this messy thing somewhere in the middle.”
“It sounds like she has some shit to deal with on her own, for sure, but you deserved someone who would stand up for you. If family’s there for anything, that should be it. She shouldn’t have made you feel like you had to be in that mess with her.”
Considering how much that had weighed on me throughout the day, I thought speaking the words would add to the anxiety I was feeling around Mom, but really, talking to Sawyer had actually eased the stress.
Who fucking knew?
As I looked back to Sawyer, this relatively new sympathetic expression across his face, it felt almost threatening to me. I wasn’t used to having anyone be there for me.
“Sorry,” I said. “I don’t mean to sit here and whine about something that happened so long ago. To be clear, I’m fine now. And it’s not like I sit here dwelling on my mom’s crap life most of my days, but when the calls come, it reminds me of some shit that’s still there, you know?”
“We wouldn’t be human if we didn’t have some shit to deal with, whether it’s in the past or present…or mixed up like yours.”
My gaze drifted to his hand, still on mine.
It felt nice.
And the more time it spent there, the better it felt. Those goose bumps returned, along with a warm sensation in my cheeks.
Fuck. I am not blushing right now.
I was glad the lights in the place were dim enough that I doubted he’d noticed.
If it had been a game of chicken, I would have lost, because I pulled my hand away, saying, “Thank you for listening, Dr. Burke. Just send me my therapy invoice, and I can Venmo you the money.”
“Your first session is free, but I do have a tiered payment structure, so in six sessions, you’ll wish you had told me more sooner.”
I laughed.
Even though I was talking about something that cut me to my core, Serious Sawyer had made me fucking laugh.
We finished our meals and threw back a few more drinks before heading out of the restaurant and waiting out front as we pulled up our phones to Uber to our places.
“I guess you’ll have to come back here to get your car tomorrow,” I noted.
“Yeah, and here I was planning not to drink,” he said, laughing at how clearly awry that plan had gone.
As a gust of wind rushed by us, I rubbed my arms.
“Oh, and you still have your jacket in my car,” Sawyer said.
“Fuck. That’s right. Glad you remembered. Would have hated for that to be used as a convenient excuse for you to see me again,” I joked, kind of regretting that he wouldn’t be able to do just that.
I didn’t know why, but I had this nagging feeling that since I’d actually discussed real shit with him, I’d head back home and Sawyer would find a way to avoid me as much as he ever had before we’d started talking—really talking—to each other. It made returning to his car that much more unsettling as we walked side by side in silence.