Seaside Nights Page 14

  “And now you can’t see straight.” Amy threw her hands around Sky’s neck and hugged her. “It’s okay, Sky. You’re supposed to feel all dizzy and not be able to think straight when you’re falling for a guy.”

  “I’m not falling.” She pushed to her feet, hating her indecision and annoyed with herself for not thinking through Sawyer’s boxing before she allowed herself to get closer to him. His voice was already ingrained in her mind, his touch still lingered on her skin—and she needed to get the heck out of there before her friends saw it written all over her face.

  An hour later Sky was standing on a stool outside her shop, painting a coat of bright yellow on the columns between the windows, when her cell phone rang. She pulled it from her pocket and saw her brother Matt’s handsome face. She’d wondered when the news of Sawyer would reach him.

  “Hey, Matty,” she said.

  “Hi, sis. How’s everything going?” Matt’s tone was patient, whereas her other brothers always seemed in a bit of a rush.

  “I’m sure you already know the answer to that.” She smiled when he laughed. “So tell me what you really want to know, and you might as well butter me up with a promise to be at my grand opening.”

  “You know I wouldn’t miss it for the world, Sky.”

  She saw Matt so rarely that when they spoke it made her miss him even more. “Thank you.”

  “Don’t thank me. Just tell me everything’s cool with you and this boxer guy I’m hearing about. Is he treating you well?”

  She rolled her eyes and smiled. “Yes, of course.”

  “And are you happy?”

  “Do I sound happy?” she asked.

  “You always sound happy, but are you happy inside? I’m too far away to know.”

  “Yes, Matty. Very happy. If you’d move back here you’d see just how happy.” Matt was a professor at Princeton, and most summers he took on summer courses, leaving him little time to visit or take vacations.

  He was silent for a beat, and Sky wondered if she’d annoyed him. She asked him to move back practically every time they spoke.

  “Maybe I’ll consider that,” he finally said. “Hold on. Someone’s here.” She heard him open a door, and a female voice rang out. There was a heated exchange, and Matt got back on the phone and said, “Sis, I’ve got to run. I love you. Call me if you need anything or want to talk.”

  “Love you too, Matty.” She hung up the phone, wondering what that was all about, but as she glanced down the street at all the people and the town she loved, she let that worry fall away.

  She watched a mother carry a young boy into Puzzle Me This, and just beyond, a couple was kissing in front of Shop Therapy. She loved the graffiti-style paintings that ran from the roof to the sidewalk and brought Shop Therapy to life. She turned and looked over her shoulder at the Little Shop, a small cottage-style shop painted bright red, and her eyes were drawn to the bright yellow café, Blondies & Burgers, beside it. Commercial Street was so vibrant and alive. A gentle breeze carried the paint fumes away, and every so often the scents of baked goods wafted up from the Portuguese bakery.

  This was where she belonged. She hadn’t realized how much she’d wanted—needed—to put down roots after she’d lost her mother, but she already felt more grounded than she had in years. And as laughter and commotion filled the air from passersby, she grew even more excited about her impending grand opening. She imagined Sawyer sitting on the stoop by the front door playing his guitar, and her smile faltered a little. Why couldn’t coming to grips with his fighting be as easy as knowing she’d put up her shop in the right place?

  “Hi, sweetie!” Lizzie shaded her eyes from the sun and smiled up at Sky. “I just got these in and wanted to bring you some.” She held up a vase full of colorful flowers.

  “Thanks, Lizzie. Those are beautiful.” Sky climbed down the ladder and followed Lizzie inside to set the flowers on the coffee table.

  “We’ve got spray roses, daisies, button spray chrysanthemums, Monte Cassino asters, and of course, Limonium. Always Limonium.” Lizzie sighed as she glanced around the shop and set her hands on her hips. Limonium was used in many bouquets, and Lizzie always said if there was ever a flower she could tire of, it was that one. Sky thought it was pretty. “Look at this place. It’s really coming along.”

  “I know. I’m so excited. I’m hoping to do some shopping later and pick up a few more chimes and maybe a chair. Want a soda from the back?”

  “No, thanks. I can’t stay. The store has been crazy busy, but I wanted to drop those off to brighten your day—and see how things with Sawyer are going, of course.” Her eyes widened with curiosity.

  “He’s amazing,” Sky said as they walked back out front. “He’s coming to the grand opening and he agreed to play his guitar. I really like him, Lizzie.”

  “That’s awesome. I Googled him. Sky, he’s totally hot.” Lizzie peeked into her store.

  “Do you need to go?” Sky picked up the paintbrush again.

  “In a sec. There aren’t any customers. Everyone seems to like Sawyer.”

  Sky climbed the ladder and began painting again. “Everyone?”

  “I saw Blue when he was working on your shop earlier and he said your brothers met him and that everyone thought he was a good guy—and crazy about you!”

  “What else did he say? Did he tell you he had him checked out?”

  Lizzie laughed. “No, but it doesn’t surprise me, the way he hovers around you.”

  Sky rolled her eyes.

  “Sorry, but he does. Anyway, he said Sawyer didn’t shy away from their inquisition, which I wouldn’t imagine was a whole lot of fun for him.”

  “Inquisition? Sawyer never said anything to me about them questioning him.”

  “They’re just watching out for you.” Lizzie gazed with interest at a group of hot guys walking by.

  “I can take care of myself,” Sky said with frustration. “I’ve always paid my own way and I make my own living. I don’t need to be taken care of.”

  “Oh, Sky. Everyone needs taking care of.”

  Why was it that when Lizzie said something like that it felt real and important? And, she realized, for all her fighting about her brothers being overprotective, it validated what she felt when she was with Sawyer.

  “Most important,” Lizzie said. “What do you really think of him? Beyond the surface stuff.”

  “I like him a lot. He’s smart and kind, and he’s so good to me. He seems to really love his family, and you know that’s important to me.”

  Lizzie smiled at a family as they passed. Then she crossed her arms and her voice turned serious. “Sky, it takes a certain type of person to step into a ring and fight.”

  Sky’s pulse quickened with the urge to defend Sawyer—even though she wasn’t sold on his fighting either.

  “And? What’s your take on it, Liz?”

  Lizzie shrugged and said, “That you’re a big girl and you’ll figure it out.”

  “That’s your advice?”

  “You just finished telling me that you can take care of yourself, and I have faith in your ability to make sound decisions. You always have before.”

  “Not after Mom died.”

  “Oh, Sky. Yes, you did. You didn’t go out and get blitzed or turn to drugs or anything like that. You curled up for a while in your safe little nest.”

  “And needed Pete to rescue me.”

  “No, Sky. You didn’t need rescuing. You needed someone to be there for you so you could find your way past the loss of your mother. The more I get to know Pete, the more I think that he needed to take care of you. That was part of his grieving. You said that you two have always had a give-and-take relationship like that. He protected you, and you gave him reasons to. But I’ve noticed that since your dad got out of rehab Pete no longer takes on that role with you.”

  He had eased up—that was for sure. It wasn’t Pete who had wanted to check up on Sawyer, but Grayson. Did that mean that Grayson hadn’t moved pa
st their mother’s death?

  “You’ve both grown,” Lizzie pointed out. “You’ve shown him that you can handle difficult situations, and he’s left behind the need to be everyone’s savior. He has Jenna to take care of now.”

  “And what about Grayson? He’s gotten more protective of me.”

  “Gray? He’s been protective of you for as long as I’ve known you guys. But he’s also been eclipsed by Pete’s big shadow.”

  “Is life really that complicated, Lizzie?”

  Lizzie laughed softly, put her hands in the pockets of her cutoffs, and said, “It’s that complicated and that simple.”

  When Lizzie went back to her shop, Sky wondered if she was making life more complicated than it had to be. She put away her paints and was washing out her brushes when Blue came downstairs from the apartment.

  “Hey, Sky. I’ve got that hole all patched up.”

  “Thanks. I’m leaving for a while. I’ll hang the Closed for the Morning sign out front.”

  “Is everything okay? Do you need more paint? Because I can run down to the hardware store and grab it if you don’t want to break your stride.”

  She dried her hands on a towel and said, “Actually, I think I’m going to stop by the fight club and watch Sawyer train.”

  “Really? You okay, or do you want me to go with you?”

  She drew in a deep breath, thinking of what Lizzie had said and wondering about the roles that everyone played in her life—her brothers, her father, her friends, Blue—and the role she played in theirs. “I’m okay, but thanks, Blue. I appreciate the offer.”

  “Hey, Sky?”

  “Yeah?”

  “I just want you to know that you looked really happy with Sawyer last night, and I’m happy for you.”

  Maybe life really was that complicated, and that simple.

  ***

  STEP INTO THE ring strong and step out stronger. That was what Roach had taught Sawyer since the first day he’d begun training him. Roach didn’t believe in saving strength or strategizing the best time for a fighter to give his all. He’d made it clear to Sawyer and anyone else who would listen that they were either in it to win the whole way through or they were in it to lose. Period.

  Sawyer was never in anything to lose.

  “You’re a powerhouse today, Songbird.” Roach paced beside the ring, eyes stern, arms crossed.

  Adrenaline coursed through Sawyer’s veins. He’d been so wound up after Sky’s confession he’d come straight to the gym. He’d gone eight rounds on the heavy bag, four rounds on the double-end bag, five rounds of skipping rope, and by the time Roach came in, he was geared up and ready to spar. He was on his fifth round sparring Tanner Delroy, a professional sparring partner, and he had no desire to slow down.

  “Come on, Delroy,” Roach hollered. “Get back in there and give him hell.”

  Sawyer sneered around his mouth guard at Roach as he stepped into the ring. Roach was responding to the belligerent attitude Sawyer couldn’t seem to shake, and it only made Sawyer’s blood boil more intensely as he finished the round.

  Sawyer was a master at staying grounded in the ring. He wasn’t a bouncer, like amateurs who fidgeted and moved all over the ring like scared mice. He was a powerful fighter who kept his center of gravity, stayed low, and had a core made of brick. He was fast and relentless, with match-stopping jabs that his competitors had said looked like they came from every direction—skills that had driven him to the top. Tanner Delroy was a strong competitor. As a professional sparring partner, he took a beating, but it was his chosen career—and he handled it well.

  Tunnel vision brought Sawyer in close, taking advantage of the slightest opening with body shots and one final jab that sent Delroy flying off-balance and into the ropes.

  “Ho! Hold up!” Roach stepped between Sawyer and Delroy, giving Sawyer a serious and proud stare.

  “You got me good,” Delroy said to Sawyer. A welt the size of an orange was spreading near his Adam’s apple.

  “Sorry, Delroy. You’ll feel that one later.”

  Delroy grinned and wiped blood from his lower lip with his forearm. “That’s what I’m here for, man. It’s all good.”

  Sawyer paced the ring, itching to go again. Roach stepped up close, and Sawyer was sure he was going to give him hell for going after Delroy so hard.

  “You paying attention to your body? Any numbness in your fingers? Blurred vision?”

  Sawyer gritted his teeth, holding Roach’s dark gaze. “A warning doesn’t suddenly fuck me up, Roach. Back off. I’m fighting.” Guilt clawed at his shoulders. Roach had been with him since the start, and Sawyer loved him like a brother, but he wasn’t going to let him come between him and winning that title fight for his father. “I’ve got this, and no, no signs of any of that horseshit.”

  Roach nodded. “Stubborn ass.” Roach glanced over his shoulder at the front of the gym and asked, “You expecting company?”

  Sawyer looked over Roach’s shoulder and saw Sky, wide-eyed and holding on to the registration desk as if she needed to in order to remain standing.

  He removed his gloves and climbed from the ring. “Give me a sec.”

  “Sky.” Up close, nervousness radiated from her entire being, like a wounded bird with a cat hovering above.

  As if she’d noticed this slight reveal, she pulled her shoulders back and lifted her chin. He leaned in and kissed her cheek, hoping to ease the shock of seeing him fight, but she remained rigid beneath his touch.

  “I didn’t know you were coming by.” He glanced at Brock, standing behind the counter, and Brock respectfully turned away.

  “Neither did I.” She looked past him at Delroy. “Is that guy okay? You punched him in the neck.”

  “Delroy?” He glanced back at his sparring partner, who was engaged in a serious conversation with Roach. He reminded himself that what he saw and what Sky saw were probably two very different things. “He’s my sparring partner. He’s paid to fight.”

  “But look at his neck.”

  “It’s not as bad as it looks.” He reached for her hand, and although she didn’t readily grasp it, she also didn’t pull away. He was so thankful that he nearly said it aloud as he guided her away from the reception desk. The gym didn’t have sofas or chairs or a cozy nook in which to talk, but the other men in the gym were respectful enough to turn away.

  “I…I should go. I don’t want to interrupt your training.”

  “Sky.” He stepped in closer, and the wounded look in her eyes softened, although they were still bouncing between him and the back of the gym. He laced his fingers with hers, and when she accepted them, truly embraced his hand, a relieved sigh slipped from his lungs.

  “I know this is probably hard for you to understand, but boxing is more than just two guys beating the hell out of each other.”

  “How? I just don’t understand it, Sawyer. I came here thinking that maybe I was overthinking your fighting. That maybe we weren’t so far apart in our beliefs, since we’re so close in every other way. But…”

  “Don’t say but, Sky. Not yet. Boxing is just another art form. Like tattooing or singing, or playing the drums, or dancing.”

  She scoffed. “You’re not serious.”

  “Totally serious.” He wasn’t used to defending his career. Most people thought it was cool and exciting that he fought—but he didn’t give a damn about most people. He gave a damn about Sky. “Sky, I’ve worked for years to perfect my techniques and conquer my weight class. I’ve put years of study, years of practice into figuring out what worked, and honed my skills so I could beat everyone else. It’s not a game, or a way to just let loose and hurt someone. Boxing takes finesse as well as power.” The forcefulness of his tone surprised him, but he didn’t want to take a chance that she’d walk out that door without at least trying to understand. “I’ve gone through years of grueling workouts and given up significant parts of my life for months at a time. Fighting is a part of me, Sky. It’s what I’ve don
e since I was thirteen.”

  Her lips parted as if she was going to say something, but no words came.

  Acutely aware of Roach’s and Delroy’s time, he glanced over his shoulder and found them both watching him impatiently.

  He turned back to Sky, trying to figure out how to squeeze a day’s worth of explanation into the next three minutes. “Where are you headed?”

  “Work, I think. I…Work.” She nodded, and he could see she was even more conflicted than she’d been when he’d dropped her off at the cottage earlier that morning.

  “Can I come by and see you later?”

  She dropped her eyes to the floor, taking his stomach with them.

  “Sky.” Her name slipped from his lips on a whisper. He lifted her chin and gazed into her eyes, needing her to see him and not only what he did for a living.

  He ran his hands down her arms, gently bringing her closer and wanting to bring her closer still. “Sky, I’m the same guy I was last night. The same guy you were with this morning on the beach. The same guy who gets crazier about you every second we’re together—and twice as head over heels when we’re apart.”

  “I know.” Her voice was thin, tethered.

  “Then give me a chance? I’ve got one more fight to win, Sky, and nothing will keep me from it. I hope you can understand that. This one’s for my father.” He wanted to bend down and press his lips to hers. To remind her of the man he was, separate from boxing, but he respected her too much to do that. He knew this decision had to be made with her heart. Not based on their sexual chemistry.

  She surprised him then and placed her hands around his waist and nodded.

  He touched his forehead to hers. “My sweet, sweet summer Sky. Thank you.”

  Roach cleared his throat as he approached, bringing Sawyer back to the world he’d stepped away from only moments earlier. Sky had once again transported him away from everything else around them. How did she do that?

  “I should go.” Her eyes darted to Roach, who’d stopped by the desk to talk with Brock.

  “How late do you work?”