The Fundamental Theory of Us (15 page)

Chapter Twenty-Four

During the next few hours, Sawyer avoided meeting Andrew’s eyes if she could help it. Her father had picked them up from the airport and said very little on the drive to the hospital. Sawyer insisted they head straight there so she could get tested.

Thank God Chase wasn’t in her hospital room, leering at her in his usual way that made her blood freeze. If he had been there and she looked at Andrew, he would know. Besides, she wasn’t ready to give up the pretense of having an actual boyfriend. Not yet.

As the nurses prepared her for the testing process, Sawyer lay on her side with Courtney curled in a soft, sleepy ball at her chest. She breathed in the little girl scent, flowers, candy, and springtime. Tears stung her eyes, though not from the incision being made on her pelvic bone. She had spent too much time away from Courtney.

Alannah’s doctor pushed the needle into her bone through the incision. Even though they had given her a local anesthetic, she felt it. The nurse had said some people didn’t take the local anesthetic, just as some women could still feel all the pain of childbirth despite receiving an epidural. Sawyer must have been one of those people.

When they were finished, the doctor and nurses kept Sawyer lying down. She was fine with those orders since it meant she could keep her arms around Courtney. Andrew came back into the room and sat down in a chair near her head. He placed one warm hand on her jaw, his thumb making a slow sweep across her cheek. She kept her eyes shut, drowning in her own fears and doubts. Chase would find a way to ruin the already fragile relationship she had built with Andrew. When he found out what had happened, and she didn’t doubt he would, that would be the end.

So why not enjoy it while it lasts?
The niggling voice repeated the same thing until the nurse came in and said Sawyer could get up from the bed. She would take what little time she had with Andrew, and cherish it, because, well, when else would she get this close to a man like him? Probably never.

Sawyer’s mother stepped into her room as she pulled her jeans over her hip and did up the button. Courtney sat on the end of the bed swinging her legs and singing a song in French. Alannah and her insistence that Courtney speak at least three languages—English, French, and Italian, though no one in their family came from Italy—at least made for sweet songs.

“Look who decided to show up.” Mother’s nude suede heels clicked on the floor. Her arms were crossed, expression pinched. “What’s this you dragged with you?” She indicated Andrew, who sat in his chair across from Courtney, making sure she didn’t fall.

“You have a beard!” (
You has a beed!
) Courtney squealed and shoved her little fingers in the dark hair on Andrew’s jaw.

Andrew smiled at her for the millionth time and let Courtney explore his facial hair. Again. “Yep, that’s my beard.”

“Mother.” Sawyer pulled her blouse over her stomach quickly, hiding the scars. “This is Andrew.”

Andrew stood and held out his hand, a mistake. When it went ignored, he shrugged and let his arm fall to his side, then gave his attention back to Courtney.

“So I hear.” Mother turned to Courtney with a plastic smile. “Darling, are you hungry? Would you like to have some supper with your mommy? I know she’d love to see you.”

Just like that, Sawyer and Andrew were dismissed. It wouldn’t matter if Sawyer offered to give Alannah every organ in her body, Sawyer would never be good enough in her mother’s eyes.

Andrew took Sawyer’s hand and pulled her close. “Looks like they’ve got things settled here. Why don’t we go check into a hotel?”

Mother huffed. “Too good to visit with your sister, are we?” She glanced at Andrew in distaste. “I suppose this lumberjack here has stripped all your morals and values from you.”

Sawyer suddenly grew a backbone. “No, Mother. They just changed when I realized the kind of life you expected me to live if I stayed here.”

They ran into her father in the hall. Thankfully, he had heard the exchange and, though he didn’t know what had gone on to make Sawyer run from her home and family, he offered them a ride to the Ritz-Carlton, and offered her his credit card to cover the room, meals, and other expenses. Sawyer hesitated a moment before accepting. Andrew might have some money tucked away, but that didn’t mean he had to pay for this trip. She wouldn’t let him contribute anything to this disaster.

They arrived at the hotel and Sawyer’s father gathered her into a fierce hug that lasted several moments. When he pulled away, his dark eyes were filled with more emotion than she had seen before.

“I’ve missed you, Sawyer. I wish you would keep in touch.”

If he wanted her around still, it meant that Mother and Alannah hadn’t fill him in on the reason she left. Nor had Chase. Well, she hadn’t expected Chase to admit any wrongdoing. To the day she fled New York, he held his ground, admitting only to her what his intentions were. She needed to be taught a lesson, he’d said. She ought to know better than to flaunt herself the way she did. At what point had she flaunted? Sawyer used to be fun and carefree, and she smiled and laughed. When Chase entered their lives all that changed.

“I will,” she said.

“Good. Listen, I know it’s late so I won’t keep you, but I’d love to join you for breakfast. Get to know Andrew better. How does that sound?”

Sawyer glanced at Andrew, seeing how he felt about the idea. He nodded. They agreed on eight o’clock in the hotel breakfast room, and then Sawyer and Andrew left the car. Exhaustion weighed heavy on her shoulders as Andrew took her hand and carried both their luggage inside the hotel.

While Sawyer checked them in on her father’s credit card, Andrew ran a restless hand through his hair. The dark strands fell over his brow in disarray over eyes filled with an expression she couldn’t read. She wondered if he felt uncomfortable here, dressed in jeans and a knit sweater. He shouldn’t—not all the hotel’s guests were dressed in expensive, designer suits tailored specifically for them. A group of men lingering by the edge of the bar wore jeans as well.

The elevator ride to their room occurred in silence. When the doors opened on their floor, Andrew held her hand and led her down the hall in search of their suite. The main area was opulent, as she expected. Two pale green armchairs faced one another, with a marble coffee table in the middle. A matching sofa faced a large, flat screen television on the wall between two floor-to-ceiling windows displaying Central Park. Nothing but the best for a Layne.

There were two bedrooms in the suite. Not because she didn’t want to spend the night with Andrew again, because she did. But he might feel differently and want his space.

He set the luggage down, noting the two sets of double doors on either side of the room, never letting go of Sawyer’s hand. He tugged her into his arms and any fears of separation dissolved. For now.

“I don’t know what to say.” His breath warmed the top of her head.

She wrapped her arms around his middle and held him tight. “There’s nothing
to
say, honestly.”

He pulled away and for a long time, his eyes focused on hers with startling intensity. “I’m so proud of you.”

“Proud of me?”

“Yeah. You rushed here to see if you were a donor.”

“Wouldn’t you?”

“Without a doubt.” He studied her beneath his lashes. “I sensed some frostiness between you and your mom, but whatever happened before, she’s your family. Your sister.”

“Yeah, my sister.” Sawyer wrenched from his grip and stalked to the mini bar, sick of hearing about family bonds. “The great, amazing, perfect Alannah Layne-Winchester who can’t do anything wrong.” She twisted off the top of the first of many vodkas and poured it down her throat, welcoming the sting.

“When Alannah was sixteen, she snuck a boy into our building and made out with him in the hallway outside my bedroom. When she was about to get caught, she shoved the guy into my room, woke me up, and blamed me for the stranger. I was eleven, Andrew.” Sawyer finished the bottle and tossed it in the trash. “You know who my parents believed? Perfect
Alannah
. Not me. God, I was still half asleep and swore up and down I’d never seen him before, but did my mother take my side? Nope.”

Andrew stood with his hands in his pockets. He said nothing.

“Alannah stole Mother’s brand new car and took it for a joyride. She brought it back with a massive scratch down the passenger side, and said she’d seen me do it.” Sawyer went for a second bottle. She’d have to call down for more, unless … ah, there. At the back of the bar, she scored two more bottles of vodka. Once she got drunk enough, she could stomach the other stuff.

Andrew hadn’t moved from the front door. Still made no attempt to stop her. He just stood there, watching.

Well, she’d give him something to watch. She emptied the second bottle and by now, the room felt stifling hot, and the floor tilted a little. Because she could, she grabbed the third bottle and twisted the cap, testing him. Just as she thought, he didn’t stop her. Only watched her drink the vodka. Leaving a small amount in the bottle wasn’t her intention, but Sawyer couldn’t force the last few sips down. She felt good enough though, for what she had to do.

“So you think everyone’s family is important?” (
S’you think evrone’s famys portn’t
) She tried not to wince at the slurred words.

“Sawyer,” he said with a hint of warning. The sultry southern lullaby in his voice outweighed it. He moved toward her, slowly.

“Don’t.” She held out a hand to keep him away. “You think my sister’s perfect? How about my mother? Hmm? Well I’ve got news for you. They’re not.” Inhibitions burned away by the alcohol, Sawyer reached for the top button on her blouse. Before, she had
shown
him. Now it was time to admit the full story.

Button after button popped through the holes, until her shirt hung open. She shrugged out of the sleeves and let her shirt fall to the floor. One hand reached behind her for the clasp of her bra. Andrew’s brows pinched together, and his gaze flicked over her bared skin, stopping at each scar. She pushed her bra off and it dropped at her feet. Then Sawyer stood there topless.

“You see this?”

His Adam’s apple bobbed. “Yes,” he said hoarsely.

“I told my mother what happened.”

“What … what
did
happen?”

She lifted her chin, swaying where she stood. Her eyes focused and unfocused. “Chase,” she spat.

Andrew’s entire stance changed—widened, and his shoulders seemed impossibly big. “Did he—”

“Rape me?” She laughed, the sound grating. “No. He held me down, ripped my shirt, and pulled a knife from his pocket. He said if I didn’t want the whole house to think I was a slut, I’d do what he said. I was fourteen years old and terrified. I just lay there and let him cut me. Do you know what he did, while I bled, too scared to scream for help?”

Andrew shook his head. His jaw cracked.

“He … touched himself. On me. After, he made me lick my blood and his… his…” She still couldn’t say the word. “I didn’t tell anyone until after the third time, when he did this.” She pointed to the deepest of the wounds. “I told my mother. You know what she said? She told me I was a selfish brat who couldn’t let anyone be happy. When I told Alannah, she told me she was marrying him, and I’d better stop lying. They didn’t believe me. They
don’t
believe me.” Her voice broke and the tears fell.

Andrew moved then, his long strides eating up the distance between them. “I believe you,” he said, and captured her in his arms. “I believe you. And, God, I love you, Sawyer.”

Chapter Twenty-Five

Sawyer sat on the window ledge, sipping a fourth bottle of water as she watched the sky darken and the city come to life. Soft lights lit up the park, casting eerie shadows from the bare trees.

Behind her, Andrew sat with his body pressed close, his torso bare. He had taken his shirt off and pulled it over her head. Not, he said, because he didn’t like what he saw. She felt his attraction and knew he spoke the truth.

What shocked her was his admission. He
believed
her. For the first time since she explained exactly what Chase had done, someone believed her. Once, when she first left New York and began her new life in Boone, North Carolina, Sawyer considered the painful reality that what had happened might have been her fault. She let the past eat away at her. Until she met Andrew.

When he said the words “I believe you,” it was like a switch went on and the world changed from black and white to full color in high definition.

She used to think it would have been easier if Chase had simply raped her, then Sawyer hated herself for thinking the words. Millions of women suffered at the hands of men each day, had parts of themselves stripped away by a man’s lust and greed. Lived in fear of it happening again. Maybe her wires were crossed, or broken.

Though fear and doubt played a huge role in stacking the deck against her, Sawyer arrived at a startling conclusion: Andrew wasn’t going anywhere. He believed her. He
loved
her.

The fifth and last time Chase took out his blade, before Sawyer tried to tell her mother and sister, he had said no one could love her after he got through with her. How could any man love a used, scarred, broken girl? Those were his words. Used. He had used her, just not in the traditional way. When he finished, he repeated his words:
No one will ever love you
.

But he was wrong.

Tears stung her eyes as Sawyer leaned her head back on Andrew’s shoulder. His warmth and strength surrounded her, and at the same time, she knew he had given back the strength she had lost. All the training, and the way he let her take control of every situation. He proved time and time again that he was there with her, and
for
her.

Sawyer spun in his arms, turning her back to the night sky and the city, a part of her closing up. The part she had hoped to keep hidden forever. She slid her legs around his waist and pressed her face to his throat, inhaling deeply. The alcohol still made her head a little fuzzy, but her thoughts were clear, and the room didn’t spin.

Andrew moved his hand through her hair, letting his fingers trail over her back softly when he reached the ends. He didn’t speak—he didn’t need to.

They stayed that way for some time, until Andrew said he needed to move around and remove his prosthesis. She still hadn’t told him how she felt about him. She didn’t want him to think she thought she had to say the words, just because he had. Sometimes, she had learned, mostly through her time with Andrew, words weren’t necessary. That old saying “actions speak louder than words” might be truer than she ever considered.

After her display earlier, she wasn’t brave enough to ask about their sleeping arrangements. She walked with him to the bedroom he had put their luggage in earlier, hand in hand, noticing his slight limp. She hoped he wasn’t too sore and asked him. He said he was fine and kissed her cheek before turning for the bathroom.

Too exhausted for a shower, Sawyer sunk down on the bed, wiggled out of her jeans, and crawled under the covers wearing Andrew’s shirt. She fell asleep with the sound of the shower, and woke sometime later when Andrew got into the bed. With his arms around her, she soon fell asleep again.

****

Breakfast with her father went like this: He showed up early and snagged a table at the far end of the room, partly secluded from the rest of the diners by an alcove and a tall potted ficus.

After an awkward silence, broken by the waiter bringing coffees and taking their orders, Sawyer’s father leaned on the table and met her gaze head on, and said he knew something was up with her, and her mother, and Alannah, but he didn’t know what. Then more silence, and Sawyer held her breath, feeling tissue paper-thin.

At this point, Andrew squeezed her hand under the table, and her tissue paper hand crumpled into dust. Her father began talking, conducting an orchestra with his hands. His words were lost in the wind tunnel of her mind.

Here it is, she thought. The moment when the rest of my life explodes, and I’m truly alone. No, not alone. She had Andrew. And Rachel, and Lola, too.

“Sawyer?” Her father’s voice cut through the wind. The worried look in his eyes calmed the storm. “I’m just trying to figure out what happened. One day we were a family, and the next…” Deep grooves formed in his brow.

“I don’t think this is the best place to discuss it,” Andrew said, saving her from having to come up with words she wasn’t sure she could say.

So the three of them sat in the dining room, surrounded by hotel guests, eating their breakfasts in strained silence. When they finished, Sawyer’s father paid the bill and Andrew suggested they head back up to the room. In the elevator, she kept hoping, wishing, that the cables would fail and drop them. Or a random black hole would open up and swallow her whole, saving her from having this conversation. With her mother and Alannah, both instances ended badly. This time, however, she had Andrew with her.

Sawyer paced the suite a few times, letting the words form in her head. Her father sat on one armchair, and Andrew had taken the couch. Both watched her with different expressions, Andrew’s remained patient, a study in strength and assurance, while her father’s usually tan skin paled.

Finally she stopped and licked her lips, and the words came out. “Remember the summer when Alannah brought Chase to the house in the Hamptons? Everyone loved him straight away, even the staff. That first night when we all went to bed, I couldn’t sleep, so I went down into the den to watch TV. You know how Mother wouldn’t let me have a TV in my room until I was sixteen because she thought I wouldn’t get enough sleep.”

Sawyer paused, looking to Andrew for support. He raised his chin, letting her know he was there if she needed him. She glanced back at her father and continued. “Chase followed me. He shut the door and sat down next to me, saying he couldn’t sleep and wanted to watch the movie with me. I thought it was funny, because I didn’t know any guys, even you,” she said to her father, “who would watch a silly high school movie, especially the musical kind. You always cringed when Mother asked you to the theater.”

She was dancing around the subject. Time for a hefty dose of honesty. “Halfway through the movie, Chase put his arm around me and—and touched me. I moved away, and he held me down.”

A vein in her father’s forehead throbbed. His expression turned murderous.

Sawyer went on. “He ripped my shirt and knelt over me, caging my arms at my sides. He took a retractable knife from his pocket and slid the blade up. I couldn’t move then, I was so scared. He told me if I made a sound, he would kill me, but first, he’d make you and Mother and Alannah hate me.”

“Sawyer, I—” her father began, and cut himself off when Andrew shook his head.

She faced her father. “I need to just get this all out, okay?”

Though furious, he nodded. His shoulders fell and his eyes remained locked on hers.

Sawyer swallowed past the tightness in her throat. “He cut me, small cuts at first, but long.” She lifted up her shirt and showed the scars on her belly, and the bottom of the scars under her bra. “Then he touched himself over me. Made me taste him and my blood. I thought if I did what he wanted then he’d let me go and that would be the end of it. He couldn’t keep seeing Alannah after that, right? And he’d be out of our lives. But I was wrong. It happened four more times, and I tried to tell Mother, but she didn’t believe me. Neither did Alannah. And then she married him, and had Courtney, and Chase came to me with an ultimatum: Either I let him do it again, or I would never see Courtney again.”

“Oh, good God.” Father yanked his tie away, like he couldn’t breathe. He jumped up from the chair and ran to Sawyer. They stood face to face for a beat, then he held out his hands and she went to him. “I remember that summer,” he whispered in her hair as she shook in his arms. “You were so happy one day, and the next, you stayed in bed. For days. I kept offering to call Doctor Thurston but you wouldn’t let me. Oh, Sawyer.”

In her father’s arms, Sawyer cried for the life she used to have, for the years she lost, and when her tears subsided, she knew he believed her.