Page 142 of His Reckoning

How someone raised in a family this warm became someone as guarded as Sawyer Maccini.

By the time we’re ready to leave the restaurant, the dinner rush has taken over the entire place.

Cole disappears back toward the kitchen.

Brooklyn hugs me like we’ve known each other for years.

“Come back soon,” she says. “We need more entertainment.”

Hudson nods in agreement. “Preferably when Sawyer isn’t in such a bad mood.”

“I’m not in a bad mood,” Sawyer mutters.

Chase laughs. “You’ve barely spoken in an hour.”

Lucia, his mother, kisses Sawyer on the cheek before turning to me. “It was lovely meeting you, Kayla.”

“You too.”

His father shakes Sawyer’s hand before patting his shoulder. “Don’t disappear for another week.”

Sawyer nods once. “We’ll see.”

We step out onto the sidewalk a moment later. The night air is cooler than I expected. For a few seconds, we just walk in silence.

Sawyer’s hands are shoved in his pockets, his shoulders tight.

“You were quiet in there,” I say.

He shrugs. “Family dinners are loud.”

“That didn’t seem to bother anyone else.”

He doesn’t answer.

We reach the car. Sawyer opens the passenger door for me without saying anything.

The ride back to the penthouse is quiet. It’s not awkward quiet, just … tense.

Halfway through the drive, I glance over at him.

“You know,” I say casually, “your family is terrifying.”

That finally gets a reaction.

Sawyer glances at me. “Terrifying?”

“There were, like, six people interrogating me at once.”

“They liked you.”

I lean back in the seat. “That’s the scary part.”

A small smile appears at the corner of his mouth, then disappears again.

When we reach the building, neither of us says much on the elevator ride up.

The moment the penthouse door closes behind us, Sawyer finally exhales like he’s been holding his breath all night.