Test Shot (28 page)

She shifted to stare at him with hollow eyes. “Who is for you? Do you even know?” When he didn’t answer, she sighed. “You haven’t, you know, been with a guy, right? Not all the way.”

In all his life, he’d never blushed. But at that moment, his cheeks and ears heated. “No.”

She picked at the bedspread, suddenly looking small and younger than her years. “Maybe if you got it out of your system…”

He couldn’t stand the hope in her voice, not when he knew encouraging it would only hurt her more down the line. And him. “No, sweetheart.” He shook his head and shut his burning eyes so he didn’t have to watch her tears track down her cheeks. It was as if she’d hit the Pause button on them for a while and now they were back, full force. “No. I’m sorry.”

Somehow he moved around the bed and gathered her in his arms. He couldn’t do anything else for her, but he could tell her without words how much he loved her. That was all he had left.

For a long time, they didn’t speak. When she finally lifted her head, the resolve on her face robbed him of breath. He knew what was coming, with the fatalistic certainty a surgeon did when confronted with a huge blip on an MRI.

She squeezed her left hand into a fist. Then she drew off her ring and pressed it into his palm.

“Layla.” Nothing else would come. His life had just imploded, and all he could do was watch the shrapnel fall to the ground.

“You need to try to follow your heart.” Her voice wobbled, but she didn’t falter. “I know you think it’s with me, but it can’t be, not when the rest of you’s not on board. Willing yourself to want me won’t work. And I can’t be with you when I know you haven’t given yourself a chance to find what you really need.” She closed his fingers around her engagement ring and brushed her hand over his jaw, now rough with stubble. “It’s going to take me a little time to stop thinking about what could’ve been. To wonder what I could’ve done differently to change this.”

“Nothing,” he managed. “Absolutely nothing.”

“I can’t hate you for hurting me. I want to. Dammit, it would be so much easier if I could. But I know you tried to make me happy. I know you’re bleeding too.” She exhaled shakily. “You can’t hide behind me forever, Aidan.”

Somehow annoyance cut through the muddy weight of his grief. “What?”

“You heard me.” She grasped his chin and gazed fiercely into his eyes. “You can’t live your life trying to make your parents happy. Running away from being a doctor and Nebraska won’t make you straight. If you’re honest with yourself, you wouldn’t want to be. What you want is to be who you are, without judgment. What we all want.”

The truth of that hit home inside him, way beyond where the wall of lies kept him safe. “You don’t judge me.”

“The people who matter won’t. There are people like that out there. A whole world of them, but it only takes one to change everything.” Her tone gentled as he dragged in a breath. “What happened sucked large, but it was a lifetime ago. You need to accept who you are. Finally.”

He looked away and hated himself for it. “I’m not ready for what you’re suggesting.”

“So you’re a coward, then.” She slid back and nodded. “And a mama’s boy.”

Anger spurted inside him, hot and welcome. “Goddammit, Layla—”

“Get pissed at me. Hate me if you have to. But don’t shut down. If we meant anything to you, don’t sacrifice both of our happiness for nothing at all. You have a chance to get what you want.” She shook his hand that still gripped her ring. “
Take
it.”

How could he stay angry when her love and her pain radiated from her eyes? “So do you.”

Her lips trembled. “You’re not the only one who’s not ready.”

“You’ve always been ready for your happy ever after, sweetheart.” The next words were probably the hardest ones he’d had to utter in his life. Even harder than admitting he was gay, because he’d acknowledged that a long time ago. This failure was fresh. “He’s ready too.”

Her chin quivered, and her eyes filled. “I’m afraid, Aidan. I don’t know what my life is going to look like anymore, and it scares the hell out of me.”

“You’re not the only one.” At her soft sob, he pulled her in close and breathed in deep. “I won’t shut the door, I promise. But you can’t either.”

When she didn’t respond, he tilted up her face to his. “Whatever decisions have to be made, we’ll make them together. But please, stay with me tonight.”

She curled her arms around his waist and hung on tight. “I’m not going anywhere.”

He pressed his gritty eyes against her hair. Not now she wasn’t.

But she would.

* * * *

She considered skipping the agency party. But after the night she’d had, she craved a fragment of her old life. She wanted to dance, if only for a little while, and giggle over sex toys—although she’d probably never look at them the same way again—and act as if she wasn’t rebuilding from scratch.

Aidan had sequestered himself in the spare bedroom they used as an office and told her to have fun. He probably figured she was off to see Sawyer. To make her plans for her brand-new, shiny life. As if she could shed the strings from the old one that easily. As if she wanted to.

They’d stayed in bed until noon, just holding each other. And crying. She’d never seen Aidan cry before. The sound haunted her, echoing in her ears like gunshots. In this case, they were both full of holes. Gaping, jagged ones that might never close.

As awkward as it felt, she made herself socialize. She talked to Con and Drew, did her best to laugh with Manda and Kiana, who’d somehow gotten separated from her date. Not that she was thinking about Sawyer. She just noticed, was all. Even Trent had shown up, and his girlfriend, Amber, could’ve modeled too. She also came equipped with spare tissues, which made her A-OK in Layla’s book. Better yet, she just made small talk and didn’t pay too much attention when Layla sniffled during talk of cookies and toddlers.

The cookies she could handle. Toddlers not so much.

After that, Layla stationed herself by the punch bowl. Not talking was safer, and she liked punch. She was going for her second cup when she paused in scooping out her drink.

Her left hand was bare. No more engagement ring. No more wedding. No more being held in the middle of the night when she had a nightmare. The nightmare had become her life.

“Let me do that.” Without looking up, she knew who was beside her. Tonight, he smelled like cinnamon, but not some sort of fancy cologne, the actual spice. Sawyer’s body sheltered hers as he leaned around her and filled her cup, then set it in front of her.

Like a mute, she nodded her thanks and lifted it to her lips. Sloshing some onto the pretty pale blue tablecloth. Not caring.

He cupped her shoulders, his touch steadying her as it had the night before. She expected him to ask. He must’ve seen she wasn’t wearing her ring. But he didn’t pelt her with questions, just murmured against her ear, “Dance with me.”

She had no reason to worry about cheating anymore. An unbearable sadness filled her, so complete she couldn’t respond. Her throat had swelled from so many hours of crying, and it still hadn’t returned to normal. God only knew what she looked like. Makeup could only do so much.

When she didn’t reply, he led her onto the dance floor, drawing her into his arms, far from the clusters of couples. He didn’t say anything when she laid her cheek on his shoulder and let him guide her, her exhausted body capable of nothing more.

They danced for a long time. Slow dances, fast. It was mindless, moving with him, and natural in a way she didn’t have to think about. Her mind was free to roam while his wide, patient hands supported her back and his solid chest gave her a place to lean.

When the music faded, she looked up, shocked she’d spent most of the night in his arms. Not talking to her colleagues, just swaying with Sawyer, in full view of everyone. Many of whom she’d have to deal with Monday morning. “I…I have to go.”

He released her at once. “Okay.”

“Thank you for the dance. Dances plural.” She shoved at her loosened hair twist and noted his sudden preoccupation with her fourth finger. Was she wearing a neon sign that made that strip of white impossible to ignore? “Have a good night.”

“Wait.” He touched her wrist, right above her rocketing pulse. “Do you need a ride?”

“Where?” Hysterical laughter burst out of her, a precursor to the tears she’d resolved to shed only behind closed doors. She’d thought they were through, that she’d cried them all. Apparently not. “No. No,” she repeated, more quietly. “Thank you.”

His eyes narrowed, and a nerve ticked in his jaw. “What I said last night, it’s still true. My door’s always open. My phone’s off the hook.”

She couldn’t believe it, but she laughed. Weakly. “What?”

One side of his mouth rose. “That didn’t come out right. You know what I mean.”

“Yes. I do.” Hearing those words spill from her lips made her eyes fill. Sawyer’s flashed, and he stepped closer, but she shook her head. “I’m okay. I just need to leave.”

He nodded again and slipped his hands into his pockets. His concern flowed over her, soothing even if she couldn’t wrap herself in his warmth. “Nebraska, I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.”

Her soggy eyes burned.
Nebraska
. To someone, she still had a nickname.

This time he didn’t try to stop her when she left.

Sawyer laced up his sneakers and pulled on a hooded sweatshirt. Early November in New York was colder than he’d expected. He should’ve moved to California instead of east. A beach to run on would be nice, especially one that was warm most of the year. Since that option wasn’t currently available, he’d jog through Trombley Park and enjoy crunching through the fallen leaves while The Offspring blasted in his ears.

He kept the pace easy, dodging moms with strollers, other runners, and bicyclists without losing his rhythm. It wasn’t quite twilight, but there were more people in the park than he’d expected. So when one guy came right up beside him, he didn’t react. When he didn’t move past, Sawyer tugged off his old-school headphones and scowled at Drew.

“What the hell are you doing here?”

“Nice greeting, man.” Drew clapped him on the back and kept running. He wore track pants and a T-shirt that indicated he didn’t give a fuck. Sawyer guessed that meant he hadn’t come from work. “Don’t return phone calls anymore?”

“From solicitors? Hell no.” He started to pull his headphones back on and growled when Drew yanked them out by the jack.

“What are these? Relics from an earlier age?” Drew dangled the big over-the-ear headphones and shook his head in obvious disgust. “Come into the twenty-first century, dude. We have cookies.”

“Like you eat cookies.”

“I do so. Who doesn’t eat cookies?” Drew tossed his headphones at him and jogged backward while Sawyer looped them around his neck. “So, why don’t you wanna be my friend no more?”

Sawyer didn’t grin, but it was a close thing. “Have you been drinking?”

“I fucking wish. I had the day from hell. Two crying chicks, three no-show models, four missed appointments—it’s like the kinky Christmas song, without the doves or the milking maids.”

Sawyer laughed and hit pause on his MP3 player, since Drew probably wouldn’t wind down anytime soon. “Sorry to hear it. So you cut out early to hit the gym?”

“No way. I hate the gym. Bunch of sweaty jerks. I prefer nature.”

“You live around here?”

“Nah. I have a sweet pad on Long Island.” Drew grinned. “I came here for the express purpose of stalking you. Luckily you were coming out of your building just when I pulled up. How’d you miss my sexy beast?”

“You brought a woman with you?”

“No, ass. My car. Jesus. Sorry,” he called to an irritated mother who had to shift her baby carriage onto two wheels to avoid Drew’s backward flight. He switched to running normally and glanced at Sawyer. “’69 Mustang. Black. Primo condition.”

“Your favorite number.”

“Damn straight. The car’s a beaut.”

“Why are you stalking me?”

“Because I want to see you make a buttload for showing your ass. And other things.”

Sawyer picked up the pace, hoping to lose Drew. No such luck. The other man matched his speed easily. “I’ve been busy. Haven’t had time to think about the agency.”

“Busy doing what, exactly?”

“Working. What I did long before I met you people.”

“Ooh, us people.” Drew rubbed his chest as if he were wounded. “Such animosity.”

Sawyer chuckled. “I don’t have any animosity. I’m just weighing options.”

“How about banging chicks? You still do that too, or did you take a vow of celibacy after your nuts got crushed?”

“My nuts aren’t your concern.” Sawyer stared straight ahead as he navigated around a pair of bicyclists. Drew rejoined him on the opposite side. “I’ll call Hot Shots once I decide what to do. Stop fucking leaving me messages.”

“Christ, moron, I haven’t been calling because of that. I’ve been calling because your lady’s living alone in a studio apartment and relying on me and Con to help her move. And her ex.”

Sawyer stopped at the sudden stitch in his side. “She’s not my lady.”

“Okay, then. See ya.” Drew veered left to jog off the path and laughed as Sawyer grabbed his arm. “Thought so.”

“She’s living in a studio?”

“Yeah. It’s a decent building. Near a lot of stuff. Including Con, who may or may not live on the top floor.”

“Well, that’s good. So he’s nearby if she needs something.”

“Yeah. Con’s a full-service kind of guy.”

“You’re not going to make me jealous. Just FYI.”

“Who was trying to?” Drew bent to retie his shoelace. His sneakers had to have cost a couple hundred bucks and looked untouched. “You don’t want the poor woman to have some friends? She’s in a brand-new city, single for the first time in years, trying to make her way… Oh yeah, did I mention single?”

Sawyer mopped his sleeve over his face, partly to soak up the perspiration and partly to hide his smile. “Wanna go get something to eat? I got my three miles in.”

“Three? Pussy. I do five every morning.”

“You really want to compare our training records? Especially since I have it on good authority you’re an entire decade older than me?”