Gavin’s seductive voice floats up from the speaker, but it’s not smooth and clear like it usually is. His voice cracks and wavers as he stumbles through the recording.
I-I’m so sorry for dragging you into my shit. And… for what happened. I’ll fix it, baby. I just… I’ll do my best to get this asshole off of you.
There’s a long pause. The silence filled with Gavin’s staccato breaths.
Don’t worry about me. Just… get better, okay? I-I should go.
A loud announcement blares in the background.
They’re calling my flight. So… I guess this is it. I’ll miss you and thanks… shit.
The phone fumbles and disconnects. I play it again, listening to the tortured sound of his words, the despair conveyed with every painful silence. Now I can see why Sasha defended him. He’s just as torn up about this as me, maybe more.
Then why did he leave?
The answer is so obvious, even an idiot like me can figure it out.
Gavin Walker cares. Maybe, he even loves me.
Gavin
“Sadie! Don’t eat the sand, love!”
Ellie laughs at her husband, Adam, as he hustles over to their fifteen-month old daughter right as she shoves another handful of sand in her mouth.
I grin at her antics. “She’s walking,” I comment from my beach chair next to Ellie.
“She is. Started a month ago. It’s horrible,” Ellie giggles. “It’s exhausting keeping up with her.”
“Adam seems to do okay,” I point out.
“He does,” she agrees. Ellie shades her eyes to watch Adam rinse off their daughter in the low surf. Memories of playing on the beach a few miles from here with Sydney Tannen while our parents watched flick through my brain. I shake my head—that seems like a lifetime ago.
I take a moment to glance at all the familiar faces. After hiding in my house for the past two weeks, Hawke insisted I throw a post-tour beach party. I resisted, but he was a persistent ass who wouldn’t give up.
In retrospect, I’m glad he did. It’s nice to get outside, see my friends having fun, but any joy I feel is fleeting and false. I still feel as if my insides have been removed, shredded, and put back together incorrectly. Everything that used to make me happy does nothing for me now.
Ellie sighs. “It’s not too late, you know.”
“What?” I take a sip of my drink and watch our friends play volleyball. Dax growls after Hawke spikes the ball at Kate, who is four months pregnant and radiant in her lime green bikini.
“To get Mitch back. It’s not too late,” Ellie repeats.
“They still haven’t caught the stalker.” I point my glass at the bodyguards surrounding our party. They’re wearing casual clothing but stick out like a bunch of gorillas in a petting zoo.
“Hmmm,” she hums.
“Don’t do that, El. I don’t want to talk about it,” I snap, slugging back the rest of my cocktail.
The pain is too raw to discuss. I’ve never been in love before. Had I known it would hurt this much, would I still have made the sacrifice?
Yes, I think sadly. I would.
“What the fuck are you doing here?” I jerk my head up at the sound of Hawke’s angry snarl.
“I need to see my son.”
No fucking way.