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I choke. “The heart? Of course not.”
“I can see right through you, Sawyer O’Connell.”
I widen my eyes at her, shake my head. “You slay me, Mrs. St. Laurent. When is the official bonding party again?”
“Don’t change the subject, Sawyer, please. Is someone breaking your heart?”
“It’s nothing of the sort,” I assure her. “I’m not in love with anyone.”
“Are you sure?”
“Yes. I promise. Cross my cold, dead heart.”
Not entirely true. But enough of that. I don’t want to talk about it.
Bee, though, doesn’t seem to be reading the same script.
“Wasn’t there a girl you were pining over?” she goes on, hitting the nail right on the head. Hard. With a sledgehammer.
Ouch.
I turn to pass my rag under the faucet, giving Bee my back, trying to collect my thoughts. Yeah, that girl… Blond hair in pigtails, dark eyes full of secrets.
She hasn’t come around in weeks and I hate the knot in my stomach. It’s half worry and half… something I can’t even name.
Is she okay?
Did she move away?
Did she hate me hounding her and talking to her?
Did she find herself a boyfriend? A pack?
Why didn’t she come back?
And now I sound like a whiny child.
People have lives, Sawyer, I remind myself. People have work and family and love interests you know nothing about. It’s how it is.
Not knowing bothers me.
“Sawyer.” Bee puts a hand over mine. I’m clutching the wet rag like I’m about to strangle it. “Relax.”
She’s been saying that a lot to me lately. Everyone has.
I’m relaxed. I’m just great.
“And stop cleaning that counter,” she says. “It’s sparkling clean. You’ll wear the varnish down.”
“Yeah, yeah…”
“We have customers,” she says with a small sigh. “I’ll go take their order. If you want to talk?—”
“I know. Thank you.” I smile and she hurries away to welcome the customers I hadn’t even noticed had entered.
So totally fucking relaxed.
Christ.
