Page 11 of Nights at Seaside
He shook his head. “My father is very much alive, and you’re the first person I have revealed his pen name to. I’m not even sure why I did, but it felt like I was lying to you, and I know this is our first date, but I didn’t want to lie to you.”
“Sawyer.” His name came out as a whisper. She was so touched by his confession, but the sadness that lingered in his voice made her ache.
“He has Parkinson’s,” Sawyer explained. “It’s been really difficult and heartbreaking to watch his health decline. He hasn’t written since shortly after he got his diagnosis.”
Wrapping her arms around Sawyer came naturally, and even though part of her worried that the comfort might embarrass such a strong man, she couldn’t stop herself. They remained like that for a long moment, with the sky turning dark above them. She felt herself opening up to the sensitive man she’d only just met.
When they finally parted, his lips curved up in an appreciative smile. She didn’t push for more information about his father, and when he asked her if she was from the Cape, she knew he needed to change the subject.
“Yes. I grew up in Brewster,” she answered. “How about you?”
“Hyannis, actually. If you’re from Brewster, then you probably know all about how the herring run from Cape Cod Bay into Paine’s Creek, then into Stony Brook, and ultimately into Stony Brook Pond.”
They began walking along the rocks again, and she stumbled.
“Careful.” Sawyer caught her. His fingers tightened around her waist, and it wasn’t the heat wrapping around them again that brought her closer, or the way his pupils flared. It was what she felt coming off of him in waves, something longing and real, that she recognized but couldn’t name.
“My father used to take us to see the herring run in the spring.”
She felt herself wanting to know more about his childhood, and to share more of herself. This was too fast. Wasn’t it? How could she feel so comfortable with a guy after just a few hours? She didn’t know what to do, but the heat between them was melting her brain cells a handful at a time, and he was opening up to her, trusting her with his father’s true identity, and that was melting her heart at the same time. Pretty soon she’d turn to liquid and trickle away with the brook.
He laced his fingers with hers and she gave in to a smile as they fell into step beside each other again.
“I think I’m just as enamored now with how the fish run upstream as I was as a kid. I have great memories of running alongside the brook, watching the fish with my older brothers, Pete, Matt, Hunter, and Grayson.”
His eyes widened as he sat down on a rock, bringing her down beside him. “You have four brothers? No sisters?”
She shook her head.
“I bet you were spoiled when you were growing up, as the only girl.”
“Maybe a little, but I loved keeping up with them. At least until I was about twelve, when I started really getting into painting and drawing. My dad built me this amazing art studio in the backyard. It’s a shed, really, but when you’re a kid and your father respects and supports your talents enough to build you your own space? Then it feels like a mansion.”
He covered her hand with his. “It sounds like you have a wonderful family. Are you all still close?”
“We are. Maybe a little too close.” She laughed. “My brothers are a little protective of me.”
“Like Blue?”
She laughed and shook her head. “A little worse than Blue. Kind of like lions protecting their den.” She squinted, thinking about how protective they were. “Yeah, like that.”
“Or like older brothers protecting their only sister?” He kissed the back of her hand. She liked that he was so affectionate with her. “It’s cool. I respect that. My friend Brock has two younger sisters, and I’m probably about as protective of them as Blue is with you. But Brock? It sounds like he’s more like your brothers. I think it comes with sibling territory.”
“Maybe. I adore them all, even if they’re protective of me. But enough about me. What about you? Do you have siblings?”
“No. It’s just me and my folks. I’m close with both of them, though. They’re one of the few couples who have made it through thick and thin and still managed to stay happily married. I see them often, and I told you about my dad’s illness, so I stick close to home. How about your parents? Are you close?”
She dropped her gaze as a familiar pang rattled inside her. They’d gotten so far off track from talking about the poem, but it had been a long time since she talked about anything other than frivolities that she didn’t want to stop. And after hearing about his father, she felt they had even more in common, and she wanted to share that with him, too.
“My mom passed away a few years ago.”
“I’m sorry.” He squeezed her hand. “Were you close?”
“Very. When I was away at college we talked every week, and she’d send me the funniest cards and cookies and…” She swallowed past the thickening in her throat. “Wow. I haven’t talked about our relationship in ages. I had such a hard time when she passed away, but I thought I’d moved past it. I didn’t realize how emotional I still was over losing her.”
Most guys would probably fidget and change the subject, but Sawyer opened his arms and gathered her in close. He pressed his hand to the back of her head without saying a word, and it was exactly what she needed. She soaked in the comfort of his embrace and the thoughtfulness of his silence.
“Thank you for understanding,” she said, feeling mildly self-conscious. “I’m sorry for being so emotional.”
