Black Listed(25)
Except with Sawyer. With Sawyer, she felt real. Tethered to this world. Whole.
He was right. She had no idea who she really was. “I mean, what kind of a person doesn’t have a hobby?” She shook her head. “I’ll tell you. Someone who doesn’t know what the hell she enjoys.”
He squeezed her hand. “Maybe it’s time you find out.”
“Maybe.” She lifted a shoulder. “And what about you?”
“Me? I know what I enjoy.”
She hummed in agreement. “Computers. So why are you still the CEO of Hayes Industries?”
He eyed her warily, his hackles coming up in his defense. “You know why. It was my parents’ company, and I owe it to them.”
“You owe it to yourself to be happy. Why not hire someone else to run the company, so that you can spend more time doing what you love?”
He released her hand to run his fingers through his hair. “You don’t understand.”
“No, you’re right. I don’t.” She turned him toward her. “Because you’ve never explained it to me. All this talk about my inability to trust, and you’re no better than me.”
A million expressions flashed over his face until only sadness remained. “There are some sins we commit that are too dark to ever see the light.”
“I get that. Boy, do I get that.” She sighed. “But do you honestly think if you told me about your sins, it would change how I look at you? How I feel about you?”
Especially since she carried the heavy weight of her own sins on her tarnished soul.
“If I confess my sins, they become real. And I’m not ready to accept them yet. I’m not sure I’ll ever be ready.”
What terrible thing did Sawyer do to make him think he had to forgo his own happiness in honor of his parents?
And if he couldn’t forgive himself for his sins, how could he ever forgive her?
Chapter Nine
BLOWING ON HER cup of hot coffee, Lisa stared at the computer screen in front of her, waiting for the feeling of normalcy to wrap her in its arms. Six hours in her office, and she hadn’t accomplished a damn thing, still too shell-shocked over the last twenty-four hours. The soreness between her legs constantly reminded her of Sawyer. After she’d given him the list of people who had a reason to want her dead, he’d dropped her off at her office, telling her to call him when she was ready for him to pick her up.
She didn’t like unpredictability. Her life was about staying in control and staying one step ahead of everyone else. She lived for the routine of the day and worked long hours so she didn’t have time to think about all the horrible things she’d done in her past and all she’d lost.
She rubbed her temples, trying to focus on the numbers on the spreadsheets. She had to forget about any future with Sawyer. The sad truth was at the end of the week, she and Sawyer would go their separate ways. Permanently. There was no other option.
“Well, ain’t you a sight for sore eyes,” came a voice from the doorway.
She froze, her coffee halfway to her lips. That familiar southern drawl sent her heart beating double time. It couldn’t be. And yet it was.
He’d found her.
She took a deep breath and got to her feet. Then, slowly, as if she could make it all go away if she just didn’t look, she turned toward him.
Her brother.
“Where’s my hug?” he asked, holding his arms open and smiling like four years hadn’t passed.
And maybe they hadn’t. He hadn’t changed at all. Still her handsome big brother with his dark eyes and olive skin, hair as black as the night sky. So different from her light complexion and her almost Nordic appearance. It was something she’d questioned constantly as the only fair person in the family. Her mother had always said she’d taken after her maternal grandmother, that she was special because her grandma had been one of the most successful grifters in the country back in the thirties. While the Great Depression had ravaged the country, she’d prospered off people’s hunger and had skillfully conned hundreds of men into giving her their last penny to buy foreign bonds that promised to quadruple in value in six months.
Resembling a criminal who took advantage of the weak was nothing to be proud of, and yet, when her mother recounted the tales of her grandma, she felt as though she belonged.
Her parents were cold and calculating people. There were no hugs. No bedtime stories. No cute notes in her lunchbox during the times they had allowed her to attend school. The only time she received any affection was when she made them money. But it was never enough for them. Every dollar they brought in somehow disappeared within a few short months. She hadn’t understood it until she grew older and followed them one night to a casino.