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"Hey?" I asked, my blood boiling quicker with every beat of my heart. "It's 4:20 a.m. and you show up out of nowhere and say, 'Hey?' Do I look desperate to you? Twelve days without a word and you come knocking on my door in the dark? What is it? What do you want with me? No wait. Don't bother answering that—"
"Breathe," he interjected, placing a hand on my wrist before I almost lost my shit and showed him how much his disappearance had affected me. "I can explain. I need to explain, if you'll give me the chance."
I looked over his shoulder then back at him. There was no bike and no car.
"You're not coming in."
"I don't blame you. I wouldn't let me in either after the way I left you hanging without a word or an explanation."
"I wasn't hanging," I lied. "My life is too full to hold my breath for people I hardly know."
His eyes narrowed like he was calling me out. "Don't do that."
"What?"
"Lie to yourself … to me."
"I'm not—" Reaching out, he cupped my chin with his thumb and forefinger and leaned closer toward me. My body warmed to his touch, despite my reservations.
"Won't you at least let me explain where I've been?"
"I don't need your explanations—"
"Monday afternoon—the morning after the argument with your husband—I flew to Arizona. Got a call at 1.00 p.m. from my father to say that my sister, Tammy, the one I told you about with three little girls, had been T-boned by a truck on the way home from dropping her eldest girl off at school."
"Oh my God, is she okay? The other children?" I asked, immediately forgetting my grievance when I thought of how anxious he must have felt when he'd received such horrible news.
"Not really, but she will be. Eventually. The two little ones are fine, they were on the passenger side of her mini-van. For the first couple of days, they kept Tammy under sedation. Five hours on the operating table with a fractured skull and pelvis, a compound fracture of her left tibia, a broken collarbone, internal bleeding, and whiplash injuries. It all happened so suddenly—the call, me getting there—and it was touch and go for a while, but she stabilized pretty quickly considering."
"And now?"
"Now she's regained that smart mouth we all hated until we thought we'd never hear her words again. She's still laid up in traction and quite a bit of pain, but it's getting better every day. Jonathan, her husband has her covered."
"Weren't you supposed to go on tour?" I asked, knowing full well he'd been due to leave the previous Monday.
"Yeah, I did. I've been plane hopping back and forth to Arizona between gigs since I knew she was off the critical list and stable."
"So what are you doing here?"
"I didn't have your phone number or your last name or even an email address. I didn't even know where you worked. Why didn't we swap numbers?" he asked, throwing his hands in the air. "Anyway, after last night's gig, I flew home to see you because I felt I owed you an explanation in person. I knew how it must have looked and how you had probably thought I'd ditched you, but this past week I've hardly had time for a power nap, much less anything else."
"You didn't have to do this," I protested since I understood now why he hadn't been in touch. At the same time, my heart felt full and relieved he had shown up because I wondered if I'd have accepted his excuse any other way.
"Oh, but I did. It was important to me. You're important to me. But in those first moments, my sister and her family had to be my priority. She was such a fucking mess, and then there was her husband, and their three little girls who needed support and attention until the rest of the family could organize their time and be there. We all have commitments that mean none of us can be instantly free… unless we stop others from doing their job as well."
"Not sure what you mean."
"Since I was the most readily available, I was first on the scene and held down the fort with the girls until my parents, Caitlin, and Lorna could fly down there. Then there was my commitment to my bandmates and the tour. Touring takes money to make money and while that's not a problem for me, the other guys in the band are financially strapped."
"I see," I admitted.
"Anyway, by the time I had a moment to think, it had been six days since I'd seen you and I was on my way to Ohio for the band's first gig. I had planned to take a quick hop back to New York after that gig to explain, grab a day with you, and meet the band in Indiana, but fog grounded all flights overnight and I missed my opportunity. After that, I had to wait for another break in the schedule to come and see you myself."
Any anger I had felt toward him immediately dissolved. "Come inside," I said finally, waving him over the threshold and into my living room. Sawyer's smile broadened as he stepped forward and pressed his lips to mine.
"Thank you," he murmured, stopping to plant a kiss at the side of my mouth. Goosebumps spread over my skin like warm butter from his intimate touch again.
"For?" I probed, feeling tired.
"Trusting me," he whispered. "I truly am sorry." The sincerity in his deep husky voice sounded genuine.
As I closed my front door, he pulled out his cell phone. "First things first. Name and contact numbers. I won't be home until the day after Thanksgiving," he advised, and I mentally noted he had meant three more weeks. "If I have your number, we can at least talk regularly," he said, glancing toward me with a sheepish smirk. "I need your … everything," he said, waving his cell phone casually with a grin and my heart fluttered with his demand.
Swapping cell phones, we did what we had previously neglected to do, logging everything from Skype, Facebook, and all the usual contact numbers—which would have saved me a good deal of supposition and Sawyer the expense of a flight—had we not overlooked this in the first place.
"I'll admit I looked for you on Facebook. I found you but it was an official page closed to friend requests, but when you didn't get in touch I figured even if I could have sent one you wouldn't have accepted it since you hadn't come back."
"I thought the same about Facebook, but I didn't know your last name or the name of the company you worked for. How did we have all that time together and me not learn these very basic things about you?"
Sawyer was right; in the two days we'd spent together we had shared so much of ourselves, knew each other intimately, yet I'd never disclosed something as basic as my last name.
