Page 25 of Guarded from Sabotage

But for Sarah, I want to give her something with more thought put into it. Something that shows I’ve been listening during our conversations the nights I stay at her place, when we talk about our childhoods and interests and hopes for the future. I want to give Sarah a gift that actually means something instead of a generic bouquet or a fancy box of chocolates.

Plus, that might be weird; giving Sarah flowers when we’re not actually dating, even though our evenings together feel an awful lot like it. In less than a week we’ve already fallen into a routine—cooking dinner together, chatting for ages at the table, and eventually heading into the living room to watch something on TV. Sometimes we’ll give each other friendly hugs or Sarahwill grab my hand to get my attention, but those are just things any friend would do.

Or at least that’s what I keep telling myself. Because as much as I feel this crazy attraction to Sarah, as much as I like her; as her protector, there’s a line I can’t cross.

It doesn’t mean I can’t give her a gift, though. Right? Friends give each other gifts.

After all, I gave Erik a case of his favorite beer for his birthday. For Rhiannon’s birthday, I bought her a gift card from the local spa so she could get a massage. And I sprung for tickets to bring Matt to a Cowboys game even though I’m a diehard Bills fan.

So it’s not that strange to give something to Sarah, especially when she’s been going through such a terrible time. And if I can do something to cheer her up, to bring out that beautiful smile that lights up her face… Why wouldn’t I do it?

Although, now that I’m putting everything into a gift bag, I’m starting to have second thoughts. Maybe it’s not a good idea to give Sarah the movie she said makes her cry every single time she watches it.

But she was going on about this movie—Beaches—the other night, talking about how much she loves it and how no one will watch it with her anymore. “Hanna flat out refuses,” Sarah explained with a little laugh. “She says if she hears the songThe Wind Beneath My Wingsone more time, she’ll fling herself off a bridge.”

As I’ve never seen the movie or heard the song, I couldn’t say much about it. But when I told Sarah that, she got all excited and grabbed my hand, saying, “You have to see it, Dante. It’s kind of an old movie, but it’s so wonderful. And the part at the end, with the cat… it gets me every time.”

I’m not so sure about liking it, but if Sarah wants to watch it with me, I will.

And that’s where my idea for the gift came from. Or gifts, as it is. I went online and found a copy ofBeaches, plus the book it was based on, and a special edition book with all the songs and behind-the-scenes photos from when they filmed the movie. I know it’s a little old school when we can find all of it online, but if I pack it all up in a gift bag with some candy and popcorn and a box of tissues…

Cheesy? Too much? Am I crazy for giving Sarah something that has a high probability of making her cry?

Maybe. But then again, maybe she’ll love it, and I’ll see that gorgeous smile that never fails to steal my breath. Maybe she’ll hug me and I can enjoy the feel of her in my arms for a few seconds, at least.

Tomorrow. I’ll see Sarah tomorrow when I pick her up from work, and we’ll have dinner and watchBeachesand if she cries, at least I’ll be there to comfort her.

Shit. I can’t remember the last time I thought about a woman this much. I’m not sure I ever have. And if these were normal circumstances, it would be fine. Sarah would be living her normal life, she wouldn’t be a client, and I could ask her out on a date. There wouldn’t be this invisible barrier between us.

I should do something to get my mind on other things. Squeeze in an extra workout. Check my email. Go over the paperwork for our upcoming jobs again. Maybe Erik or Matt want to hit our new favorite bar in Seguin to grab a beer and play a game of pool.

Or I can adjust the tissue paper in this gift bag again, wondering why in the world it doesn’t look like it does when my sisters wrap their gifts. Is there some special trick to it? Some way to arrange this fragile paper so it doesn’t look like it’s been trampled by a herd of elephants?

I’m just starting my fifth attempt to make this gift bag look nice—is it my hands? Are they too big? Am I making myselfcrazy for no reason?—when my phone buzzes, and I grab for it, glad for the distraction.

Then I see Xavier’s message, and my stomach sinks.

Hey. Sarah’s been in her room since I brought her home from work. She says she’s ok, but I’m pretty sure she’s crying in there. I asked if she wanted me to call Hanna and she said no. I don’t want to push her, but if something’s wrong…

Shit. She’s been home from work for at least an hour by now. Has Sarah been in there crying the entire time? What happened? Why won’t she tell Xavier about it?

Another text appears before I have a chance to respond.

Maybe you could try talking to her. She might talk to you.

I’m not going to dissect the reasons why Xavier would say that; not when my worry about Sarah is growing bigger by the second. Instead, I just tap out a quick reply.

Ok. I’ll call her. Hopefully, she’s fine. She could just be watching a movie or something. If not, we’ll figure it out from there.

Maybe it’s nothing. She could be watching one of her sappy movies—her words, not mine—and be too embarrassed to tell Xavier why she’s crying. Or she could be upset about one of her clients. Maybe it’s the buildup of stress and worry overflowing.

But when she answers, I immediately know something’s terribly wrong.

As she picks up, she takes a shuddering breath. “Dante?” A small sob slips out. “Why are you—” Another shaky breath. “Is something… wrong?”

My stomach plunges even lower. But I gentle my voice as I reply, “Nothing’s wrong here, Sarah. But I heard from Xavier that you might be upset. So I wanted to check on you.”

“Oh.” She sniffles. “I didn’t realize… I was trying to be quiet.”

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