Another guy from the Dogwood Cove FD comes in and joins Sawyer, the two of them joking about something from their last shift. Seriously, those firefighters have it lucky. Two barbecues and two sleeps, that’s the joke at the police station. Meanwhile, us cops are on constant patrol. It might be a small sleepy town on the coast of Vancouver Island, but we’re also responsible for a stretch of highway that gets its fair share of action.
Ignoring them, I turn up the volume on my music and the speed on the treadmill until I’m in a full-on sprint. Finally, my head clears of everything, including thoughts of Sawyer’s little sister.
“Callaghan, settle something for me, would you?” Sawyer’s voice cuts through my music, and I press pause on the treadmill to turn and face him.
“What’s up?”
“Diaz here claims he meets the most women when he hits the bars in Victoria. I’m trying to convince him to give Westport a try. Why drive so far when we’ve got plenty of beautiful ladies close by? What do you think? Where does a young virile cop such as yourself go to find some company?” He leans onto the railing of my treadmill and wags his eyebrows up and down. “I’m guessing you’re not lacking in that area.”
Sometimes Sawyer is so over-the-top ridiculous I don’t know how to respond. And this is definitely one of those times. I suspect he’s not quite the player he makes himself out to be, but that’s none of my business. And his question is one I really don’t want to answer.
Not when the woman I can’t get out of my head…is his little sister.
“I don’t know, man. It’s been a while since I went out just for a hookup,” I answer lamely, wiping the sweat from my brow with a towel.
“Time to change that, my man. You’re coming to the Dogwood Cove Animal Shelter gala that’s coming up, right? So why don’t you join us this weekend and we’ll find dates?” Sawyer’s friend — Diaz, I guess is his name — says, walking up to us with a grin.
The mention of the animal shelter makes me think of Kat. She volunteers there; I bet she’s going to the gala with her boyfriend.
Lucky him.
I tune back into the conversation just in time to hear Diaz say something that gets my back up instantly.
“Or maybe I could just ask Sawyer’s hot sister.”
“Shut the fuck up about my sister,” Sawyer barks out, glaring at his friend. Diaz’s hands go up in defense, and I have to control my own urge to smash his face in for talking about Kat. “Kat’s off-limits. Got it? Just because she’s single now doesn’t mean any of you fuckers are good enough for her.”
My brain stutters on that one word. Single? Kat’s single?
I desperately want to ask Sawyer what happened because the last I heard she was still with Tesla guy. But there’s no way to find out what happened without raising suspicion. And hearing him berate Diaz only reinforces my belief that I can’t go there.
I don’t have a chance in hell of being good enough for her.
Someone like her deserves everything. A bright future with a guy who’s just as amazing as she is.
And that guy is definitely not someone like me, with my barely controlled anxiety and a learning disability that didn’t get diagnosed until I was a teenager.
I drop down onto a mat and start stretching, trying to force the unwelcome self-criticizing thoughts out of my head. It’s taken me years to even begin to stop feeling like a total failure in life, and to acknowledge the fact that having anxiety is not my fault. It’s just the way my brain is wired, and it’s just something I have to live with.
But even with all the medication I’ve tried, the therapy, and all the work I’ve done, I still find myself feeling completely unworthy, especially when measured up against someone like Kat Donnelly. She’s mentioned that she’s working on a fucking master’s degree. That’s a hell of a big deal if you ask me. That takes brains, and commitment, and drive.
“Hunter, you’re a hockey fan, right? You gotta see this, bro. Fuckin’ NHL trades are wild this year.”
Sawyer drops down to the floor beside me and holds his phone in front of my face.
I’ve never been a fast reader, so panic starts to claw at my throat. The words blur. There’s no way I can read them.
“Huh. Yeah, cool.”
“Cool? Dude, did you even read it? It’s total bullshit. Man, my brother’s gonna be so pissed to hear about this.”
Despite the wave of anxiety crushing me, I manage to remember that Kat and Sawyer’s brother plays for an NHL team in the states.
“Right. Totally sucks, hope it doesn’t affect him. Listen, I gotta go.” Hopefully, my vague as fuck response matches whatever Sawyer wanted me to read. Because by now the panic is building to an unmanageable amount. I need to get out of here, and fast.
I stand up abruptly, gathering all my stuff and heading for the door without saying goodbye. Then I proceed to berate myself the entire way to my car. I absolutely hate that I freak out like I just did, even if I did manage to keep it mostly in my head. At least I think I did. I can’t let myself consider how Sawyer or Diaz might be reacting to my fleeing the gym right now. That will only make my anxiety worse.
But seriously, having the beginnings of a panic attack, especially over something so goddamn stupid like reading an article on someone’s phone just makes me hate myself even more. The pressure of not wanting Sawyer to know how slow I am with reading; it was suffocating in that moment. I’m not proud of how I basically ran out of there like a total pansy, but when it comes to fight or flight, I’ve always been flight.
