Page 81 of Searching Blind

“No,” he said and waved to one of his deputies, who had just pulled up. “But Delgado will take you back to the hospital and guard you.”

“Hi, I’m Izzy,” the woman deputy said and gently wrapped an arm around her. “How about we get you out of here?”

As Izzy bundled her into the front seat of the patrol car, she couldn’t help but spare a glance at Sawyer.

He looked like his entire world had just crashed down around him. But this was for the best, she told herself. He would keep throwing himself between her and the world and it would eventually get him killed.

And she’d rather live in a world without Sawyer’s love than a world without Sawyer in it at all.

“Ready?” Izzy asked, sliding in behind the wheel.

Lucy tore her gaze away from him and leaned back in the seat, closing her eyes. “Yes. Let’s go.”

chapter

twenty-eight

Wednesdays were for group therapy—the day of the week that the Redwood Coast Rescue team crowded into the community center and unloaded their trauma. Sawyer used to look forward to the meetings. He used to enjoy the camaraderie, the shared stories, the sense of collective healing.

But now?

It had been three days since the standoff at the mill. Three days since he’d last heard her voice or held her in his arms. Three fucking miserable days, and he didn’t want to talk about it. He wanted to wallow.

He still couldn’t believe Lucy had retreated from him after everything they’d been through. When he tried to talk to her about it later at the hospital, all she would say was that she needed time, but there had been a finality in her voice that sucker-punched him right in the gut. She didn’t want time. She wanted to run. She wanted to lock herself in behind those protective walls of hers and never come out.

And why wouldn’t she? Sawyer thought bitterly. He’d failed her, hadn’t he? He couldn’t keep her safe. He was useless. Broken. He tried to keep those thoughts at bay, but they gnawed at him like Zelda gnawed on a particularly juicy bone.

He stood behind his usual chair, fingers tapping rhythmically on the metal back. Zelda was antsy, too. She sat at his side like she was trained to, but she was panting anxiously.

If he sat down, he was committing himself to talking…

The room seemed too tight, the air too heavy.

No.

He couldn’t be here.

He had to?—

“Sawyer, you look like shit.” Zak’s hand clapped down on his shoulder in what was supposed to be a comforting gesture, but it only sparked off his temper like a match dropped in a can of gasoline.

He snarled and shook off the hand. “I just survived an earthquake, a landslide, jumping into whitewater, and hiking all over a mountain with not one, but three people trying to kill me.” And having his heart ripped out and stomped on by the only woman he wanted. “I think I deserve to look a little rough.”

Donovan whistled softly. “Woman trouble,” he said without a shred of doubt.

“Definitely woman trouble,” Zak agreed. “All that other shit? That’s just a walk in the park for us. It’s not why you’re moping like someone just took away your favorite toy. It’s Lucy that has you all tied up in knots.”

Fuck. Why did they have to be so goddamn observant? “I don’t want to talk about it.”

“Oh, you’re going to,” Zak said with an edge of glee in his voice.

“That’s why we’re here,” Donovan said. “It’ll be nice to talk about something other than Uno’s fucked up head for once.”

“Or your impending midlife crisis,” Zak shot back. “How’s that bald spot coming?”

Donovan growled.

“Keep poking the bear, Zak,” Veronica said as she breezed into the room on a soft cloud of vanilla. “I can’t wait until he finally snaps and rearranges your pretty face.”

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