The Fundamental Theory of Us (14 page)

“God, Sawyer.” His breathing hitched as she reached down to cup him fully.

“It’s okay?” She still hadn’t looked down. He felt hot and
huge
. Like, scary huge.

“It’s perfect.”

She licked her lips, preparing herself, and then looked down. Andrew laughed, a soft, breathy sound. His lips pressed a kiss to her brow as she watched her hands on him, moving up and down, like someone else’s hands were there, not hers. They
were
hers though, and this was
him
, and the way he shuddered at her touch was empowering.

She licked her lips. “Can I…?”

“Can you…?”

Wildfire heat spread through her skin. She couldn’t say the words. Instead, she said, “Take these off.” She pulled at his waistband.

“Yes ma’am.” Andrew lifted his hips and pulled his track pants down. Then he was naked. Gloriously naked.

There was something about a guy who wouldn’t push a woman to strip down with him, but readily let her see him, let her do what she wanted with him, that gave such a strong sense of power and freedom. He gave her the confidence to do the things she should have done in the last two or three years with non-existent boyfriends. Like this. Though nervous, Sawyer dipped her head to taste him. First, she licked the velvety tip with the flat of her tongue. The way Andrew moaned gave her the courage to try again, and she did, swiping along the underside of the head. Then she pushed him past her lips.

“Oh fuck.” His warm hands slid through her hair, cradling her head. Not forcing her to take more than she wanted, or even guiding her. Just holding her there, like he was afraid she would change her mind.

Sawyer hummed as she pulled him deeper in her mouth, loving the way he pulsed and his thighs tensed against her sides. With him still in her mouth, Sawyer glanced up. Andrew stared at her, his jaw set and lips parted. His too-blue eyes blazed, watching her take him deeper, as deep as she could. Again, and again until his thighs shook, hands fisted the blankets.

“Sawyer,” he said, a warning.

She smiled around him and kept going. Because she could. Because he wanted her to, and he let her. When his hips bucked and he released in her mouth, she swallowed, kissed his stomach, and hugged him. She didn’t know what else to do. Rachel would argue that she did all the work and got nothing in return, but that wasn’t true.

Andrew had given her back the control she desperately needed.

Chapter Twenty-Two

Life was good. Better than good.

Andrew lay next to Sawyer, her body pressed into his beneath the blankets. The sun hadn’t yet come up, though it would soon, rising over the water and through the windows. He listened for signs of Rosie downstairs. He heard no claws on the hardwood or tiles. If she needed him, she’d sniff him out and wait by the door, giving off little yips, which she hadn’t done.

He settled back down in his pillow and breathed Sawyer in. Her scent weaved into the fabric of his sheets. Her warmth speared the ice in his heart. Last night when she removed his prosthesis, he had frozen up, partly in fear, but mostly because he didn’t know how to react to her hands on his ruined leg. Then, well, his blood rushed south at the memory of her mouth on him, her eyes glued to his.

Great
. He could always excuse it as morning wood. That would be a lie. Didn’t help that he was pressed right up against Sawyer. She probably felt him stabbing her in the back.

As if she knew his inner hard-on related turmoil, Sawyer turned in his arms and sighed into his chest. He held himself still, hoping he didn’t scare her off. It almost made him laugh, thinking that she’d flip out if she woke up and found his dick poking her, instead of recoiling at the stump of his leg. She had seen it two nights ago at his place, in dim morning light and only for a second before he pulled his prosthesis on.

She saw it all last night, in full light
. She hadn’t looked at him in disgust. In some ways, he thought an above-the-knee amputation would have been better. There wouldn’t be a scarred lump of skin and bone sticking out beneath his knee.

Her warm hand on his cheek brought him back. “Hey,” she said, her voice quiet and eyes smiling. “What’s got you looking so serious?”

He brushed his lips to her brow. “Nothing.”

She raised an eyebrow. “Did you turn into a woman overnight? Because that was such a woman answer.”

Andrew grinned. “Nah. If I said ‘fine,’ then yeah, maybe, but nothing just means nothing.”

“Sure.” She buried her face at his throat and inhaled. “God, you shouldn’t be allowed to smell this good first thing in the morning.”

Not helping the boner…

She must have felt him, though she said nothing. Sawyer slid her hand around his waist and pulled herself closer. “I’m still tired.”

“It’s early. Go back to sleep.”

She shook her head and leaned back, looking up at him in the dim morning light. “I promised your mom I’d help with breakfast, but I don’t know anything about cooking.”

“You do just fine at The Spot.”

“That’s different. Everything comes out of packages.”

“You make omelets,” he pointed out. “You fry eggs, and make bacon and pancakes.”

She relaxed in his arms. “I guess.”

“Well, that’s probably what we’ll be having. Eggs, bacon, toast. Maybe blueberry pancakes, if Colleen shows up.” She probably would.

“All right, all right.” She gave a playful jab to his side and lifted her head to rest on his bicep. “I still can’t get over how different your family is to mine.”

“Yesterday you said you hope I never meet them.” At first her words had stung him. Watching her relax with his mom and siblings, Andrew came to the conclusion that Sawyer’s family probably weren’t very nice.

“Not because I don’t
want
you to meet them,” she said in a rush. “My dad would love you. My mother is the polar opposite of yours. People call her the Ice Queen. My sister takes after her. Somehow the gene missed Courtney. She’s sweet and full of life. I just hope they don’t crush it out of her.” She frowned.

“With you as her aunt, I’m sure she’ll be just fine.”

Sawyer blinked, her eyes misting over. He was struck again by her warmth and softness, by the strength in her eyes and the way she looked at him, like he was everything. Something dawned on him then, as sunlight broke through the cracks in his blinds. He had started out sitting next to someone who wouldn’t even glance his way, and since then, he had fallen in love with this beautiful, confusing, strong woman.

Andrew pulled her closer. “I feel like there’s so much more to you than what I know.”

She tensed for a moment. “Everyone has secrets.”

“Would you tell me yours?”

“I’m not sure you’d believe me.”

“Sawyer.” He touched her under the chin, lifting her head up. “If there’s one thing I know about you for absolute certain, it’s that you’re not a liar.”

Her eyes filled and for a second he thought he had said the wrong thing. Sawyer reached for his face with a shaking hand. “Someday I’ll tell you everything, and I hope I don’t change your opinion of me.”

“Nothing and no one could do that.”

She gave a watery smile. “What am I doing here?”

“At my mom’s place?”

“With you.”

A stab of hurt went through him. Andrew couldn’t think of anything to say.

After a moment, she said, “I don’t want you to get hurt.”

“By you?”

“By…” She paused. “Well, by anyone in my life.”

“So don’t let them come between us if you don’t want to.”

Her gaze slipped away. “There will always be someone between us.”

“You can’t mean Miranda or Emory.”

“No, not them. It’s just—” Sawyer let out a soul-wrenching sigh. “I’m going to show you something. Because I think it’ll help you understand. But I can’t explain it. Not yet.”

Before he had a chance to consider what she meant, Sawyer sat up in his bed and pulled her t-shirt over her head. She had nothing on underneath, and there were scars. Not jagged and random like his. Sawyer’s scars were bigger. Longer. The one on her right breast, close to the nipple, was so deep he wondered if she’d had stitches. That had to have hurt a hell of a lot.

He trailed a hand over that scar while keeping a tight rein on his anger. “Who did this to you, Sawyer?”

She shook her head, her fingers trembling. “I can’t.”

“Okay,” he said, pulling her shirt down and holding her tight. “Okay.”

Chapter Twenty-Three

When Andrew woke up the first time in the hospital in Germany, his left leg burned right down to his toes. Only, he no longer had toes on his left leg. Or a shin. Nothing below the knee except for a swollen mass of raw, red, scarred flesh. The pain felt real.

Later, he learned the sharp, fiery pains were called “phantom limb pains” and he’d have them for life. The nurse said they wouldn’t be as bad as they were then, and after a while, the pains would return during times of increased stress.

Like now. Andrew knew she hadn’t done it to herself. The scars were too straight and deep for self-inflicted wounds. Someone had carved up Sawyer’s body. Someone she knew, someone close to her. Maybe she had trusted them, and they abused that trust. Anger burned in his chest and spread out through his body, multiple shards of emotional shrapnel he couldn’t get rid of. The pain settled below the knee where his leg used to be. A pain just as bad as the phantom limb pains he had in the early days of recovery.

Wes passed Andrew a handful of dry cutlery, startling him. “You okay?”

Andrew shrugged. He took his time putting the cutlery away. “So you’re a dad now.”

“Says Captain Obvious.” Nathan smirked at the sink and held up a wet sponge in warning when Andrew raised a brow.

“Yep.” Wes sighed, a happy sound. “Even though we planned Sheridan, I was terrified through the whole pregnancy. And when she was born?” Wes shook his head, his eyes misting. “I just kept thinking, what did we do? Are we ready for this? And then the nurse put her in my arms and everything just clicked into place. All my fears and insecurities fell away because, holy crap, we had a baby, and she depended on us to hold it together.”

Andrew nodded. He didn’t know what to say—or if he’d ever be there.

“It’s only been eight days, but we’ve found a rhythm. It helps that my firm offers paid paternity leave,” Wes added with a smile.

Wes had followed in his father’s footsteps, and took up a career in corporate law. Over the years, he had built a name for himself. Wes was ruthless, and won his cases with determination, hard work, and solid facts, which helped earn him a partnership at one of the top firms in the state. His last case against a Wall Street investment banker who swindled thousands of people out of their hard-earned retirement funds made headlines across the country. At first, Andrew had a hard time reconciling the man his sister brought home with the ruthless lawyer portrayed on the news. Now he knew people were capable of anything when they followed their beliefs—even if those beliefs got innocent people killed.

Andrew shelved the growing stack of plates and caught up to Wes and Nathan. No more letting his mind wander.

When Nathan rinsed the final dish, he pulled the yellow gloves off and hung them on the sink, turning to Andrew. “You’re different.”

Andrew stared at his younger brother, so much a carbon copy of himself, at least in the physical sense. “So are you.”

“I mean, you’re not like, angry all the time. At least, you don’t seem like you are.”

“I’m still angry,” Andrew admitted. Wes handed Andrew the final dry mug and Andrew set it in the cabinet with the others. “Just not at people who don’t deserve my anger.”

Nathan remained silent for a moment as he pulled the plug in the sink and the water gurgled down the drain. The sharp sting of bleach wouldn’t leave Andrew’s nostrils. Mom insisted bleach cleaned everything, including the germs from doing the dishes.

“I’m glad you’re back,” Nathan said, his voice strained.

He didn’t mean back, as in living nearby, Andrew knew. No, Nathan had obviously missed him, and Andrew had missed his brother, too. From the day Nathan was born, Andrew had acted as a sort of pseudo-father. Their own had died before Mom found out she was expecting Nathan. A drunk driver clipped his car during one of the worst storms in the area, and Dad’s car had swerved into oncoming traffic. The police said he died on impact. A small blessing, considering the wake of wreckage, injuries, and long, drawn-out deaths that followed.

“I’ll be around more often, so don’t go getting into trouble.” Andrew smiled.

Nathan grabbed the towel from Wes and tried to snap Andrew with it, but he was too slow. Andrew jumped out of the way just as a cry ripped through the house. Sheridan. Wes took his cue and went into the living room where Colleen, Mom, and Sawyer were. And his niece.

Andrew bent and rubbed his thigh. The layers of his prosthetic got in the way. His leg throbbed.

Nathan watched him. “Does it still hurt?”

“Not as much as it did before,” Andrew admitted. “Even though the leg was gone, I could feel my toes. It’s difficult to explain. No, it doesn’t hurt that much anymore. I’ve been getting more active lately. Even trained a couple for an endurance race.”

“Could you do that with me? Train, I mean. I was thinking of…” He broke off and stared at his feet.

“Joining up?”

Nathan flashed him a look. “Maybe. Would that—I mean, would you be okay with that?”

Images of the explosion that took his friends and his leg flashed in Andrew’s eyes. His time in the Marines held more than that. There was comradery and a sense of belonging he hadn’t felt anywhere else.

Andrew dropped his hand on Nathan’s shoulder and squeezed. “Sure. I’ll do what I can.”

“Cool.” Nathan bobbed his head. Strands of his dark hair flopped on his brow.

“First things first.” Andrew slid an arm around Nathan’s neck in a mock choke-hold and ruffled his hair. “All this has to go.”

“Yeah, but not yet.” Nathan shot a playful jab at Andrew’s side and slid out of the hold. “Besides, I still need to finish school.”

“Well, that’s a given.”

Nathan grinned and went for the fridge. He had packed away more than enough food at breakfast, and now he was going back for more.

Sawyer stepped into the kitchen, and the minute she did, Rosie sauntered to her side, bathing her hand in sloppy kisses. Andrew snapped his fingers, getting Rosie’s attention. Fat lot of good that did. The dog was a traitor.

Then Andrew noticed how pale Sawyer looked. A ghost standing statue still. “What’s wrong?”

She held up her phone. Another text. Andrew stormed toward her and snatched the phone away. She had unlocked the screen so he could see the full text.

You’re a selfish bitch. Ignoring my messages while your sister is dying.

Andrew met her gaze. Sawyer’s eyes were vacant. “Hey.” He pocketed her phone and took her face in his hands. “Did he say anything in the other messages?”

A flicker of life sparked in her eyes. “No.” Her voice was a thread of a whisper.

“Then you couldn’t have known.” He steered her to the desk at the far end of the kitchen and picked up the house phone. “Call home and find out what’s going on. Whatever it is, I’ll be right there with you, okay?”

Her hands shook, her chin trembled. She reminded him of the last leaf clinging to a tree in gale-force winds, desperate to hold on.

****

Sawyer dialed and spoke with her father while Andrew crouched beside her, until his knee ached. Nathan dragged a chair over for him and he took it with a silent thanks. Then Nathan left the kitchen, giving them privacy.

The thing about family is, you’re never alone, even when they’re not with you. In Sawyer’s case, something had happened to disrupt that balance. In Andrew’s case, he pushed them away, but unlike Sawyer’s family in New York, Andrew’s were still there for him. Always there.

Andrew listened to Sawyer as she spoke, and when he thought of a question she should ask or make a comment he wanted her to know, he jotted it down on the legal pad that always sat on the desk. Sawyer repeated her father, saying words like “lymphoma” and “donor match” and “bone marrow transplant.”

“Dad, I—” Sawyer broke off and swallowed, the sound thick. “I don’t know what to say. Why didn’t anyone tell me?”

“Chase said to leave it to him,” Andrew heard her father say. “He said he sent you dozens of messages. I should have checked with him.”

“You should have called me yourself!”

A pause. “Yes, you’re right. He—Chase, he said you wouldn’t want to speak to us, though. I thought it best if you heard it from him.”

Sawyer’s entire body tensed. “So what do we do now?”

“We need a donor, but there’s a massive list of others ahead of her. Money can’t even help us here. If one of her family members tests positive as a donor, however…”

“So … is anyone there a match?”

“No, Sawyer.”

Her brown eyes flicked to Andrew. “How do I get tested?”

“I’ll book you an open-ended return ticket right now,” her father said.

Andrew leaned closer to the phone. “Make it two.”

Sawyer paused. A breath later, she slid her hand in his on the desk. “That was Andrew, Dad. I’m at his mom’s house.”

“I see. What is he to you?” her father asked.

She glanced at Andrew, a question in her watery eyes. He nodded and kissed her brow in answer.

“He’s my boyfriend.”

****

Sawyer didn’t say much on the drive to the airport. They were alone, just the two of them. He couldn’t bring Rosie to New York on short notice unless he went through the necessary channels to receive doctor’s notes. He didn’t want to bother Jennifer during the holidays, though. He had forgotten the ones he had back in Boone, not thinking that he’d be flying anywhere. Mom and Nathan promised they would look after her while he was gone. Rosie was in good hands.

During the flight, in first class, Andrew noted, Sawyer gripped his hand so tight, she turned his skin as white as hers. He picked up on her fear, but was she afraid for her sister? Or afraid of someone? This Chase guy, the one who kept texting her. The one who said he would fill her in on the situation yet neglected to at every turn. Maybe it was his training, or just common sense, but Andrew decided he would keep an eye on the guy when they arrived in New York.

Beside him, Sawyer relaxed a fraction, and something close to a smile—though not quite—softened her mouth. Andrew gave her hand a reassuring squeeze, which she returned before looking out of the window. Just being near her changed him, brought out a side of him he didn’t think he was capable of any longer. He glanced at his leg and back at Sawyer, and something clicked into place inside him. A sort of epiphany. Protecting the people he loved required more than physical strength, which he proved he still had. Staying power—that was what his dad had called it. Sometimes being there meant the most of all. Like with Sawyer, and how, even though she had her own shit to deal with, she let him into her life. Without even knowing it, she’d helped him come to terms with the shadows in his hear and head. They still lurked, echoes of the past forever present, though they didn’t pull him under any longer. He would forever remember his friends. Now he had a reason to let go of the hurt and the shame.

And he had Sawyer to thank for pulling him back from the brink. She might not realize that she had helped him, but she had. This time, she needed him, and he wouldn’t let her down.