NO ONE SPOKE much on the drive back to Findlay Roads, and the silence began to wear on Rory’s nerves. She wasn’t uncomfortable with quiet and especially not with Sawyer. But this silence was different. She felt it, like an invisible, impenetrable wall between them. The support group had gotten to Sawyer, and she feared the media encounter had pushed him over the edge. He’d turned into himself, blocking her out. She knew it would be useless to push him at the moment, especially with Chase in the car. And Chase must have felt it, too, because beyond asking his brother if he was all right, he’d only spoken a few words.
Rory did try small talk. She asked Chase and Sawyer if they felt the support group had been helpful.
Chase had only offered a tentative “I’m not sure yet” while Sawyer had sighed.
She didn’t press him for more. Instead, she leaned back in the seat and looked out the window, watching the highway slip by and wondering what to do next.
She wanted to be there for Sawyer. She’d been hopeful about their future, even after he’d told her about the possibility of Alzheimer’s. But if she was honest with herself, the support group had scared her. Some of the individual stories were beyond heartbreaking. Was this the life she was signing up for? Loving Sawyer only to have him forget her?
She nibbled on her thumbnail at that thought.
She couldn’t lose him again. The first time had nearly broken her, and in that instance, she’d had her anger to carry her through. If he left her, mind before body, she didn’t know how she’d deal with her grief. She might lose her own mind.
And then, what about children? She’d always dreamed of her and Sawyer as parents one day, but none of the daydreams had featured her as a single mom. And should she and Sawyer even let themselves try for children, knowing they might curse them with a disease that would shorten their life span? Most people didn’t get to know their future, but what if fate was giving her a chance to get out, to protect her heart before she risked it again?
But then, the thought of breaking up with Sawyer, of sending him away, nearly tore her in two. To be with him meant living with the risk of losing him. But she knew she’d rather take that risk than a sure loss.
She turned her head, daring to look at him, but he was staring out his own window. She flicked her eyes to the rearview mirror and caught Chase looking at her. He quickly moved his eyes back to the road.
She felt a stab of dismay. She was so focused on Sawyer that it was easy to forget Chase was facing the same fear. He wasn’t even out of college yet, and he already had to worry about whether he’d develop a fatal disease that would steal his life not long after he’d really begun to live it.
But Chase seemed to be handling things better than his brother. He had a practical outlook on the situation, recognizing that these worries might all be pointless. They didn’t know for certain that either of the brothers had the mutated genes. Only the DNA test could tell that. She knew, from a private conversation with Chase, that he was in favor of being tested. But she also hoped Sawyer would agree to the testing, so they could go through it together.
But then, if they both learned they possessed the faulty genes, how could they possibly face the future knowing that three members out of their family would succumb to Alzheimer’s? Or perhaps worse, what if one of them had the disease and the other didn’t? Would it place a rift between them? Would bitterness poison their relationship?
Rory had a bad feeling about it. They would have to be extraordinarily lucky for both of them to escape a positive diagnosis. Maybe one would be spared, but both?
She felt her mood slipping into darkness at these thoughts and tried to shake them off.
“Can we turn on the radio?” she asked and was surprised when her voice sounded almost hoarse with sadness. It was rough enough that Sawyer jerked from his fixation on the highway and glanced at her. She coughed lightly. “Please,” she added in a slightly clearer voice.
Chase didn’t reply but granted her request, punching the radio dial. Soft strains of a country ballad filled the car.
Rory didn’t know if it was a good sign or a bad one that the voice streaming from the station was Sawyer’s.
* * *
IT ALL CAME crashing down on Sawyer the next day. He was in his parents’ kitchen, pouring a glass of orange juice, when his phone rang. He reached for it with trepidation, worried it might be Rory. They’d parted awkwardly upon their return from Towson. Chase had dropped her off at the apartment, and their goodbye had been stilted as he said he’d call her.
The hurt in her eyes haunted him the rest of the day and into his dreams that night. He wanted to push her away, yet hold her. He needed her.
He was afraid to need anyone right now.
A quick check of caller ID filled him with both relief and disappointment. It wasn’t Rory calling, but rather his manager.
He clicked to receive the call.
“Hey, Perle.”
“Hello, Sawyer.” Her tone was flat, lacking its usual vibrancy. He belatedly realized it was the first time she hadn’t affected her faux Southern accent. “What were you thinking?”
“Excuse me?”
“Don’t you dare play dumb with me. What’s going on up there?”
He took a sip of orange juice, trying to quell his uneasiness at her tone.
“I’m visiting my family. I’ll be back in Nashville soon enough.”
“Cut the crap, Sawyer. What were you doing at an Alzheimer’s support group in Towson yesterday?”
The orange juice turned sharp in his mouth. The reporters. Of course. He hadn’t even thought to check today’s headlines.
“Some local news station got you on video, announcing your father has some sort of dementia. The AP wire picked it up, and now it’s being broadcast on every cable channel with an entertainment news ticker. When did you plan to clue me in to this? I’m just your manager, after all.”
He prickled at her words. “It’s a private matter. Between my family and me.”
“Well, not anymore, sugar.” Perle’s Southern accent had gradually returned to her voice. “If it was so private, you shouldn’t have made a statement to some nobody reporter. You should have come to me so we could have released this news to maximum effect.”
A spark of anger lit, and he quickly moved from the kitchen and toward the hall that led into the garage. He didn’t want to have this conversation within earshot of his parents.
“This isn’t a press release, Perle. This is my life.”
He closed the door to the garage, breathing in the cool, musty smells of concrete and drywall.
“Your entire life is a press release, darlin’. If you haven’t realized that yet, you better wake up and smell the bacon.”
Previously, he’d found Perle’s use of clichés amusing. This one fell flat.
“I understand that, but this is nobody’s business but my own.”
Perle sighed dramatically. “Celebrities at your level don’t have that luxury. Like it or not, your life is on display. It’s free game for any tabloid or blogger. You don’t get secrets anymore, sugar. I wish you did. Sorry.”
The apology put him over the edge. One word that was supposed to make everything better. What a weak and pathetic attempt at consolation.
“Why do people think their sympathy makes a difference? I don’t care if you’re sorry. What good does that do me? Your sorry doesn’t fix anything. It’s not a cure. And my dad doesn’t have dementia, by the way. He has Alzheimer’s. The kind that strikes people when they’re still young. The kind that gets passed down through generations. The kind that can kill you before you reach forty. The kind that I might very well have right now without even knowing it. So pardon me if your sorry doesn’t do much for me.”
Perle was silent for so long that some of Sawyer’s ire deflated, and he began to regret speaking so harshly to the woman he owed so much to. But it also felt good to yell at someone, to let out the anger he’d had on a slow simmer the last few days.
“Listen, it’s just been...rough on this end,” he said.
“I can tell,” Perle offered, her tone cool.
He didn’t say anything. He didn’t know what else to say, other than to apologize. And somehow, he didn’t feel like saying he was sorry for wanting the world to leave him alone while he sorted things out.
After a time, Perle sighed again, but this time it sounded more genuine. “Are you telling the truth, about possibly having Alzheimer’s? Or are you blowing smoke?”
He leaned his forehead against the garage wall and closed his eyes. “It’s the truth.” He elaborated a bit, telling her about the mutated genes that caused the disease and how there was a real possibility he’d inherited them from his dad. He didn’t have that many illusions about his relationship with Perle. They got along well, and he appreciated how she’d helped in launching his career. But he recognized that they weren’t friends, and by telling her this, he might be jeopardizing their working relationship.
“It sounds to me like you have a lot to figure out.”
He released a breath, somewhere between a scoff and a sigh. “Yeah. I’d say you’re right.”
“Then tell me how you want to handle this. My phone’s been ringing off the hook with questions and interview requests. I can compose a formal press release, if you tell me how much you want the world to know.”
He was both surprised and touched. Perle knew the power of leverage, and this kind of news was certainly something she could exploit in order to elevate his notoriety. But by asking how much she should share, she’d just given him the right to control how far he let the rest of the world in. He was grateful to her for that. They spent the next several minutes going over the details of what to announce and how to present it.
“You know this is going to gain you a whole new level of exposure,” she said once they’d wrapped up the conversation.
“I know,” he admitted.
“You sure you’re ready for it?”
He considered this, remembering what it felt like to have the reporters in his face yesterday, how threatened he felt by their interference. He thought about Rory. Was this something he should discuss with her first? Should he ask her opinion or how she felt about such a private issue being paraded before the public?
As much as he wanted to get her input, he wasn’t sure it mattered. His life wasn’t exactly his own anymore. And as much as he wanted Rory in it, he was beginning to realize that might not be best for her.
“Sawyer? I want to make sure you’re okay before we proceed with this.”
He straightened and leaned his back against the wall. “I’m not sure I have much of a choice.”
His uneasiness only increased when Perle didn’t deny it.
* * *
IT HAD BEEN three days since Rory saw Sawyer. It was the longest time they’d gone without seeing each other since he’d returned to Findlay Roads. They’d communicated by text and one phone call, and Rory had done her best to give him space. But without the constant contact, doubts had crept in. What if she and Sawyer weren’t meant to be? Their paths had diverged so dramatically that maybe it was a sign they should let their past be the past. With the added threat of Alzheimer’s, she couldn’t shake the idea that fate was trying to tell her something.
Now she was driving to the welcome-home party for Gavin, who had arrived in town on army leave to participate as a groomsman in Connor’s wedding. She and Sawyer could have gone to the party together, but he hadn’t suggested it, and she didn’t want to ask him. So they were attending separately. That in itself didn’t bode well for them.
Sawyer’s life was so different now. In the last seventy-two hours that had become abundantly clear, beginning with the reporters who had assaulted them following the Alzheimer’s support group in Towson. At the time, her focus had been on Sawyer, and she hadn’t had the opportunity to consider how strange the situation was—how far removed it was from the kind of existence she and Sawyer had once lived.
But the next day, after she’d read the local headlines about Sawyer’s presence at the support group, her mind had begun to spin. Was this the life she wanted for herself? She’d seen how painful it had been for Sawyer to confront those reporters. Even worse, she had witnessed their utter disregard for his requests for privacy. She couldn’t imagine such an intrusion into her personal space. But if she committed to Sawyer, this could become a daily occurrence for her.
She didn’t know if she was ready for it. Despite being a performer, she’d always been a private person, and that trait had grown in the past two years. The idea of her life, and her relationship, on display left her uncomfortable. She wanted to talk to Sawyer about it, to unburden her reservations and have him reassure her. She needed him to tell her they were in this together, that he would guide her through the strangeness of this new world.
But Sawyer was already burdened by the situation with his father. She felt selfish and small that she craved his attention and comfort when he was facing so much. She ached for how he suffered and wanted to console him. But he hadn’t reached out to her. He’d placed a wall around his heart, and she didn’t know how to breach it. Or if she should even try.
There had been a time when she knew exactly what Sawyer needed without him asking. Now she was no longer certain. Maybe things had changed too much for them. Maybe he realized it, too, and that’s why he’d been so distant the last few days.
Such a thought was so disheartening that she had to blink back tears. Seconds later, she was pulling into the parking lot of the Moontide Inn. The party was being held in the inn’s spacious backyard. Connor and Harper’s wedding ceremony would also take place there that weekend.
A quick scan of the other vehicles revealed that Sawyer hadn’t arrived yet. Rory felt a moment’s uncertainty. What if he didn’t show up? But no, Sawyer wouldn’t do that. Not to Gavin, who had been his best friend since high school. They’d gone through army basic and their first deployment together. Even though she knew the two of them hadn’t been in touch much over the last couple of years, Sawyer wouldn’t miss this.
She swallowed as she realized that she was confident Sawyer wouldn’t bail on Gavin, but she couldn’t say the same about whether he would on her. She shook her head at the thought. That was only her insecurity coming into play. Sawyer had asked her to trust him, to believe in him. She owed it to him to try. He’d had a rough time of it since he’d been back. She shouldn’t project her own insecurities onto his behavior. After all, he was fighting to find his way through everything that had happened.
But even with this internal reassurance, a small voice of doubt raised its head.
What if Sawyer didn’t find his way through and chose to cut her out of his life as a result?