The Beautiful Truth

☆☆ 178

Micki didn't even have to give him an address. He knew exactly where Sawyer lived when Micki showed him the picture SF had texted yesterday. Or well, two days ago now? Barton Black had gotten back to Berkeley on Wednesday night. When Micki and Alex broke the news that Sawyer had been staying in Laguna since buying a place there over the weekend, he didn't think twice. He put his bags from the cab into his Defender and headed straight back out.

He did stop by to see his mom for a few minutes. She was happy to see him, yes, her long lost son, but when he explained that he was heading down south to the OC to find Sawyer, she all but pushed him back out the door. So, Barton drove all night.

Here it was, not even seven a.m. and he was finally here. The surf shop on the ground floor wouldn't open for another three hours, so Barton headed up the side stairs to the loft.

Bounded up the stairs, was more like it. For someone who hadn't seen a bed since New York City, he had an insane amount of energy.

And why shouldn't he—New York already seemed like a lifetime ago. His past, he realized somewhere between here and there, was finite. His future, however, was stretching out before him, now, endlessly unwritten. Nothing else mattered.

Frustratingly, Sawyer didn't come to the door when he knocked. He tried harder, and when that didn't work, he figured he'd just sit down in one of the rocking chairs on the balcony to wait until she woke up and came out to face the day. It was obscenely early, he supposed.

The breeze shifted and through the palm leaves shading Sawyer's porch, he saw her. She was sitting on the beach in her wetsuit, leaned back on her hands, watching the tide roll out.

Dawn patrol. Jesus, how had she survived before living in California? He couldn't help but grin. He pushed himself out of the chair, walked back down stairs, and crossed the street in front of where he'd parked on the curb.

His footsteps were silenced by the sand. Barton Black wordlessly sat down next to Sawyer.

"You're up early," he said quietly, grinning all the while.

Sawyer jumped, her concentration having been shattered by his voice, he supposed. She turned the full force of her bottomless blue eyes on him, and then a split second later, she was in his arms.

"You're here," she breathed.

He smiled softly. She was so beautiful, her hair drying in waves from the salt and blowing in the gentle breeze. Her sun-kissed skin and bright white smile. He drank her in like water.

"And I am never, ever going anywhere without you again."