Page 12 of Branded

“Why is that? Not that you owe me an explanation but call it morbid curiosity.”

I could tell him the truth, but how does one articulate something like that?

Oh, I don’t want to date you because dating a fireman would constantly remind me of my drug-addicted brother, who burned to death when my house burned down four years ago, plus I have some misplaced rage and hatred toward men in your profession because they saved me and let him die. My therapist says they did everything they could, but hating them is easier than accepting the truth. Sorry!

“I don’t date firemen,” I say simply with a shrug.

“What do you have against firemen?” He leans his shoulder against the fencing that separates the track from the bleachers.

“Bad experience. You’re all the same, and I’m not trying to be someone’s one-night stand.” I try to sound as sure as I can, even though I’m completely making this up as I go.

“That’s a bold assumption that I am trying to sleep with you.” He grins. “Maybe I just want to be your friend.”

I roll my eyes. “I’ll believe it when I see it, considering all I’ve seen so far is your eyes dropping to my chest when you think I’m not looking.”

“I’m a man who appreciates beauty when it’s presented to him but, Sawyer, I can promise you, I’m not the type of man who would just openly ogle you like a caveman. I prefer to ogle in private where I can touch too.”

I wish I didn’t shiver, in a good way, at the thought of that. I really do, but I’m only human.

Before I can respond to him, my smartwatch on my wrist vibrates, pulling my attention completely away, flashing an incoming text message from my mom.

“I should go,” I say. “It’s getting late already, and I have a couple things I need to do. Plus, I was promised a margarita.”

“Okay. It was nice seeing you again, Sawyer. Maybe we’ll run into each other again, and maybe then you’ll be a little less stubborn with your phone number. Good to see you too, Olivia.” He nods and steps back out onto the track.

“I have a feeling you’ll make sure we see each other again, Isaac Black,” I tell him.

“I will neither confirm nor deny that statement, Sawyer Westbrook.”

No sooner do I slide behind the wheel of my car and turn on the ignition, does my phone ring loudly through the speakers. I accept the call on the steering wheel.

“Hi, Mom.”

“I tried calling you and texting you more than once. Are you okay?”

“I’m fine. I was out for a run with Liv.” I lean forward and place my forehead on the steering wheel, suddenly feeling every second of that run in my aching muscles.

“I was worried.”

“I know, Mom. I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to scare you.”

Ever since Jason died, my mom has become a bit of a hoverer. Even now, with me pushing thirty years old, she still worries as much as she would if I were a teenager. Losing a child, especially under the circumstances she did, has taken a bit of a toll on her mentally.

“It’s all right. I’m sorry too. You’re an adult, I know that, but you’re still my little girl.”

“Always will be.” I smile a little even though she can’t see me.

“You sound tired.”

“I am exhausted. It was a long day, then adding in the run—when you know I’m not a runner—has wiped me out.” I lift my head from the steering wheel and stare out toward the track. I can see it perfectly from where I am, which means I have an unhindered view of Isaac as he runs.

“It’s good you’re getting out there though. I was worried you’d become somewhat of a hermit when you left Los Angeles. That was so far from home, but at least you had friends there, but now you don’t even look like yourself anymore. You’re a different human being.”

“I have friends here now too, Liv is great, and I just wanted a fresh start, Mom.”

“Any friends of the male variety catching your eye?”

“There have been a couple, but nothing to write home about. You know men, Mom, they generally suck.”

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