The Fundamental Theory of Us Read online

  “Okay,” Andrew said.

  “Then we saw you and I thought ‘he’s awesome! Maybe he can teach us something.’ Don’t feel obligated or anything,” she added in a rush.

  Logan put his arm around Taylor’s shoulders. Not possessive or marking his territory. Comfortable, like being too far apart didn’t feel right. “Yeah, it’s just like, if you have the time or whatever.”

  “And we’d pay you,” Taylor said. “Like any trainer.”

  Normally he’d politely decline, but Jennifer had told him to make friends. They didn’t have to be the deep connections he’d had with the guys he worked with—guys he’d lost. He understood what she meant. Walking in a shadow wasn’t conducive to recovery. Andrew held the tissue to his knuckles and looked back over his course. He’d have to make a few minor adjustments, add a few more obstacles and a couple miles. Simple enough.

  “Sure.” He smiled at the couple’s enthusiasm. “I’m busy during the week. My weekends are mostly open.”

  Taylor jumped up and down, letting out an excited squeak. “Awesome!”

  They exchanged numbers and made plans to meet up later at a restaurant in town to hammer out the details and a schedule. Rosie finished lapping up her water and sauntered over, waiting by Andrew’s side for permission to approach the couple. The little rat didn’t wait when it came to Sawyer, though.

  Taylor knelt and held out a hand. “Aw, who’s this?”

  “Rosie,” Andrew said. Rosie’s ears perked at her name. He nodded and she bounded over to the blonde.

  Logan watched her with interest. “She’s well trained.”

  Andrew agreed. “Rosie’s my service dog.”

  Taylor glanced up. Her hands didn’t still their long swipes on Rosie’s back. “Service dog? Do you train them?”

  Andrew lifted his pant leg, revealing his prosthesis. “IED.”

  “Shit.” Logan winced. “Sorry, man. But you’d never know, seriously.”

  “Thanks.” Pride welled in Andrew’s gut.

  A few more minutes of small talk, then the couple took off down the trail. Andrew had a couple hours to kill before meeting them later for dinner to discuss training. The course had him wiped and Rosie seemed content, so he packed up the speed bags and ladders, and headed for his truck. His thoughts swerved to Sawyer on the drive, all the way to his building. Her car was in the lot. Warmth bubbled in his chest at the thought of seeing her. Maybe she’d join him for dinner tonight. Only one way to find out.

  He didn’t have to knock on her door. Sawyer had just come back from a grocery run and rested the bags on the floor while she searched her messenger bag—for her keys, probably. When she heard Rosie, Sawyer paused, looked up, and smiled. An instant reaction. Andrew smiled in response, loving the way her face went red.

  “Hey,” he said. He wanted to say so much more.

  “Hi.”

  He glanced at her groceries. “Big night planned?”

  Sawyer laughed, letting Rosie use her hand as a head scratcher. “Yeah, me and the walls.”

  “Want to come out with me?”

  “Um, what?”

  “I’m meeting some friends.” He didn’t go into details. “If you’re hanging around here, you might as well come with me.”

  He caught a flicker of something in her eyes that vanished as quick as it came. She gave nothing away. “Thanks, but—”

  “What? You just said you’re not doing anything.”

  “True.” Her sneaker touched the edge of a plastic bag. She looked down, like the sound shocked her.

  Andrew bent and collected her bags. “I don’t want to be a third wheel. If you come with me, you’ll even out the numbers.”

  Sawyer found her keys and opened her door, her posture stiff. Andrew followed her inside and set the bags on her kitchen floor. In silence, they unpacked her stuff—he noticed the “reduced price” labels on everything, the inordinate number of ramen packages. She seemed to be weighing the pros and cons of going with him.

  In one cupboard he found a couple bottles of a cheap brand of vodka. Of the five he saw, three were empty and the other two, pretty close to it. He shut the door and kept searching for the spot where she kept her canned food, ignoring the voice in the back of his mind. Not his business what she did when no one else was around.

  When they finished, he rested his hands on the counter, standing beside her. “So what do you say? Will you come with me?”

  “I don’t know,” she said, the outline of a smile forming on her lips.

  “Don’t make me beg.”

  She glanced at his hands and her smile fell away. “Oh my God, Andrew. What did you do?”

  “Looks worse than it is. You should see the other guy.” He told her about the tree.

  “It looks terrible.” Sawyer grabbed his wrist, avoiding his knuckles, and pulled him to her bathroom.

  Her apartment had the same layout as his, though that was where the similarities ended. Every nook and cranny had something in it. Stacks of books, rickety furniture, even a couple stuffed animals. Where his place was stark, hers showed signs of life everywhere. Eclectic. Lived-in. No signs of her, no way to read her personality from the stuff she had, but the place looked occupied. Like she walked into a second hand store and bought up the entire place, trying to fill her living space with anything and everything, like she wanted a bunch of stuff around her, but no memories attached to the pieces.

  In the bathroom, Sawyer pushed him down on the side of her tub. Above him, a plain white cotton bra hung drying on the shower curtain rod. Sawyer fished around the cabinet under the sink and came up with a first aid kit. She rinsed his hands with some antibacterial shit that stung like hell and reminded him of his time in the hospital. Next, she dabbed his knuckles with a fresh strip of gauze, muttering to herself beneath her breath.

  Andrew watched her while she was preoccupied, her brows pinched in concentration. Since the night he saw her in that leather outfit—Jesus H., he couldn’t forget the way the black material clung to her body—she stopped trying so hard to hide herself. The light above the mirror hit her sunshine hair, giving her skin a slight glow. Or maybe that was the growing chill in the air.

  She bit her lip and swallowed, bringing his attention to her throat. From this angle, he could see her collarbone, normally hidden under the numerous layers she wore like protective gear. He would have looked away, but she turned, reaching for something on the counter, and his gaze fell to a scar. Normally he wouldn’t stare at other people’s scars—his was familiar. He had one just like it. White-hot rage bubbled up a slow, steady geyser in his chest. The perfectly straight line, silver now that it had healed, came from a knife, pressed against the skin.

  Anger slid through his veins, hovering between controllable and overwhelming. Sawyer caught him watching her and she ducked her head, cutting off his view. With her attention focused on his knuckles, she couldn’t have realized what he’d seen. Didn’t read the swarming hive of questions buzzing in his eyes. Violence existed—everyone knew that simple fact. It existed in cities and towns, all over the world. It took on different forms and threatened people from all walks of life.

  “Andrew.” Her voice startled him. “You’re staring at me.”

  He muttered an apology and dropped his gaze to the floor.

  “It’s just … kind of weird. The staring.”

  “Sorry. Again.” His eyes fought and lost the battle to look up. God, she was beautiful.

  “Don’t be sorry.” Her touch was gentle on his hands as she wrapped his wounds. “It’s weird. Also a little flattering. People don’t really see me.”

  How can they not? She tried to hide but Sawyer stood out. Those eyes, that mouth. Her body.

  “But you see me,” she continued. “I’ve spent so much time and effort trying to make myself look like someone people wouldn’t stare at.” She tucked the ends of the gauze strips away and placed a piece of tape on top to keep them in place. “There. Make sure you keep them clean.
”

  “Thanks, Doc.”

  Sawyer let out a soft laugh and cleaned up the counter. “So, where are you going?”

  “A local restaurant. I need a shower before I go.”

  “Well, yeah. I wasn’t going to say anything…”

  Andrew shook his head, a smile curving his lips. “You’d smell too if you were doing what I did this morning.”

  She leaned a hip on the counter, watching him with interest. “What were you doing?”

  He thought about not telling her, though he decided against it. No harm in admitting the truth. Andrew described the course and why he set it up, keeping his leg out of the explanation. If that tidbit of info came out tonight with Taylor and Logan, then so be it.

  “Where’d you get the idea for that?”

  “It’s what I did before coming here.” He lifted up his shirtsleeve and revealed his Marine tattoo.

  Sawyer traced the words curving under the globe with an anchor and rope, and an eagle sitting on top. Her touch shot straight to his dick. “‘Semper Fidelis.’” She met his gaze, her hand resting on his bicep. “What does that mean?”

  “‘Always faithful.’ Marine motto.”

  Her eyes widened, lips parted. “You were in the Marines?”

  He nodded, hoping she didn’t look down and see his tent. “Hence the ‘mature student’ thing now. I didn’t have a back-up plan. Guess it’s a good thing I understand numbers.”

  Her eyes sparkled. “Mostly.”

  “Was that a dig?”

  Her smile melted. Pain filled her eyes. Andrew stood, and in the small bathroom, it brought his chest a few inches away from hers. Sawyer breathed in and her chest rose, erasing some of the space between them. He felt her warmth and probably scorched her with his heat. He wanted to press his palm against her cheek, feel the smooth column of her neck. Lick the scar there. Her pulse leaped in her throat—he could see it moving, almost too fast. Was she scared? Or something else?

  Andrew stepped back. He didn’t want her to be scared. Not of him. “I’d better go get washed up and feed Rosie.” He paused. “The offer’s there, if you want to come with me. But don’t feel like you have to if you’re not up to it, okay?”

  She didn’t answer and he didn’t stick around, which would only add pressure. Some people had enough shit on their plates. Who needed pressure on top of that?

  “Rosie,” he called, and the dog followed him across the hall.

  Andrew showered, sitting in his stupid chair so he wouldn’t slip and bust his one leg. Like some elderly man with a bad hip. Some things he dealt with, like his breakup with Miranda, losing his job and his friends. Compartmentalized more like it. This was another reminder—no, slap in the face. Life had a funny way of saying thanks.

  After the shower, Andrew wrapped a towel around his waist and grabbed his crutches. God, he hated them. At least they made getting around easier. No one wanted to hop around like a one-legged rabbit on hard floors. In the kitchen, he filled Rosie’s bowl and leaned on the counter, watching her devour half the pile before taking a breath. He’d never had a dog until Rosie. Never understood how pet owners—or even parents—could care so much for a pet at first glance. Now, he couldn’t imagine a day without Rosie in his life.

  He debated taking her with him tonight. In the end, he figured leaving her for a couple hours would do them both some good. Andrew fitted his prosthetic leg on, pulled a fresh pair of jeans on, and got the zipper up when he heard a knock at the door. If he opened the door and found Miranda standing there again, he’d file a restraining order. The only reason she was back now, he knew, was that she’d gotten it into her head that he was getting a big fat check every month. He tried setting her straight, but God help anyone in the way of a woman with dollar signs in her eyes.

  Leaving his shirt off, Andrew walked through his apartment to the door, took a breath, and swung it open.

  Chapter Nine

  Andrew shirtless made Sawyer’s mouth go dry and her skin explode in a rain of fireworks. A slow smile stretched his mouth and the crookedness hijacked her gaze from his body. It was an easy, devil-may-care kind of smile, and it was just for her.

  She stood there knowing she came over to decline his offer of dinner. Standing here face-to-face, she couldn’t get the words out. His entire posture relaxed against the doorframe. A few water drops fell from his still-damp hair. Bright hallway lights highlighted a jagged zig-zag scar on his shoulder, running down his front. Sawyer’s skin suddenly didn’t fit her body. Too tight.

  Andrew’s smile split in two, flashing white teeth, the top two a little crooked and so sexy. “Hey.”

  Sawyer’s tongue flopped in her mouth. “Hey.” She prayed she didn’t sound like she had a pickle lodged in her throat.

  He looked her over, a quick glance, not once assessing or judging—just looking. “You ready to go?”

  “I wanted to ask you what I should wear.” Wait, what? That wasn’t what she meant to say. “You never said if it’s casual or uh, more fancy.”

  His eyebrows shot up and a wicked grin appeared. “Why? You feel up to wearing that sexy leather thing again?”

  Flames erupted under her skin. “No! I mean, it’s not … mine. I borrowed it.”

  “I was just teasing you, Sawyer. Whatever you want to wear is fine.”

  “Right.”

  “I’m serious. I’ll be in jeans and a t-shirt.”

  Her eyes bulged. “Just a t-shirt? Won’t you be cold?”

  “Well, I’ll bring a jacket, too.” He flashed another grin. “I’ll be fine. Go get dressed. I’ll knock on your door in fifteen minutes.”

  Fifteen minutes? That wasn’t enough time! Sawyer scrambled across the hall and shut her door, making a beeline for the bathroom. She didn’t have much makeup—just concealer and the mascara Rachel brought over. She ditched it all before moving here. Now she’d kill for some eye shadow and a tube of lipstick. With only fifteen minutes to spare, she covered up the bags under her eyes, fixed her hair in a messy bun, then scurried to her room.

  Clothes were another story. It wasn’t a date, but she didn’t want Andrew to be embarrassed to be seen with her in public. Her usual drab clothes, a disguise, wouldn’t work tonight. Sawyer dug into her closet, right at the back, and found the only thing she had left from her old life. The last time she wore these clothes, she’d seen Courtney.

  Sawyer held the pale pink cardigan up to her cheek and inhaled, hoping for a tiny hint of Courtney’s sweet scent. Nothing but dust and sadness filled her nose. That day, Courtney sat in Sawyer’s lap, her tiny, stubby fingers clinging to “Auntie Saw-wah.” She drooled (Courtney, of course) and babbled in her squeaky three-year-old voice, and gave so many kisses, Sawyer’s face was covered in slobber. She didn’t care, not one bit.

  Thoughts of Courtney filled her heart as Sawyer shook out her old clothes and pulled them on. Fitted slacks, a t-shirt and matching cardigan, and gray ballet flats. She almost looked like her old self. The messy hair was sort of a one-finger salute to her mother’s rules.

  Andrew knocked on her door a little while later, wearing a shirt this time, and a leather jacket slung over one arm. If he noticed the difference in her outfit, he didn’t make a big deal of it—and to her surprise, Sawyer was glad. This might be a change in a new direction for her. That didn’t mean she wanted to announce it to the world. She was testing her own boundaries. Seeing how much she could take before moving on to the next step.

  Andrew said, “Ready?”

  Sawyer grabbed her bag, keys, and phone. “Yup.”

  They took Andrew’s truck. He opened the door for her and helped her up, then whisked around to the other side. Sawyer clipped her belt as Andrew started the truck. He smiled, then they were off. He fiddled with the radio during the drive and asked a couple questions about her day, but didn’t force the conversation or touch on any deep topics. Being with Andrew felt natural—something she hadn’t experienced with anyone except Rachel. Plus, Rachel wasn’t
a guy, so that didn’t really count.

  At the restaurant, Andrew got the door for her again. Daytimes in Boone were warmer than late afternoons. A crisp chill settled over the town once the sun went down and Sawyer wished she thought to bring a jacket. Oh well. They were headed indoors anyway, and her coat didn’t exactly match these cloths. And it wasn’t like they’d be walking all the way home, either.

  On the trip to their table, she felt the heat of Andrew’s hand hovering at her back, banishing the chill from outside. Andrew slid into the booth next to her and said his friends would show up soon. In the meantime, their waiter brought over some waters and a couple menus. Sawyer studied hers with intense focus, searching for the cheapest thing there. Every meal—even the appetizers—cost more than she had on her. Her next paycheck wasn’t due for another week.

  She set her menu down and saw Andrew watching her.

  He brushed her hand with his index finger. “What’s wrong?”

  “Nothing.” Sawyer yanked her hands away and shoved them in her lap, calling herself all kinds of stupid for coming out tonight. For liking the way he looked at her, like she was the only woman in the restaurant. Like she was beautiful.

  Andrew stared at her for a moment, unreadable emotions playing in his eyes. “If you’re worried about paying, don’t. I invited you, so it’s on me.”

  Sawyer opened her mouth to argue when a couple came up to the table and shook hands with Andrew. She couldn’t exactly moan about not wanting him to keep paying for everything for her in front of strangers.

  Andrew introduced his friends, Taylor, a pretty blonde with bright eyes and a friendly smile, and Logan, a sinewy guy with red spiked hair who only had eyes for Taylor. They sat close enough that Sawyer couldn’t tell where one ended and the other began. In her head, she called them TaylorandLogan: a single entity.

  Talk shifted from greetings and what everyone did that day, to training. Sawyer listened intently, absorbing every word. I should be doing this—learning to stick up for myself. Maybe she could get Andrew to show her the course one morning. Without TaylorandLogan, of course. Not that she had two left feet or anything. She would just prefer it if no one but Andrew was around to witness her major suckage.