Chapter Eleven
Someone shook his knee. Someone was going to get punched. He had a crick in his neck, his ass hurt, and now someone woke him.
Sawyer opened his eyes to an airport security guard glaring down at him. Obscenely bright sunlight streamed through the wall of windows. Had they missed their flight?
“Sir, do you have a ticket for a flight at this airport? If you can’t produce a ticket, I’m going to have to ask you to leave.”
“I’m not a bum.” He yanked his ticket out of his pocket and waved it at the guy, scanning the terminal. “Have you seen a brunette? Tall, leggy, pissed?”
“No, sir.” The guard wandered away, disinterested.
Sawyer searched the airport. He waited outside each of the ladies’ rooms at least ten minutes and then convinced a clerk to page Justine. After all that, he concluded that she’d taken their flight home without waking him, which was vindictive as hell. Probably justified, a little, but out of character.
He was fairly sure, in his half-sleepy daze, he’d said something to her. Something about surfing or waves or something. Had she gone home?
At that moment, his phone rang. Hoping it was Justine, he didn’t even look at the caller ID. “Yeah?”
“Hey, it’s Larry.”
“Damn it. I’m in the middle of a shit-storm right now. I don’t have time for this.”
“And what if I’ve found Liann Linell? Do you have time for me then?”
“Not really. I’ve lost Justine, again.”
“Again?” Larry asked, incredulous. “This has happened before?”
“Man, if you’ve got something to tell me about Liann Linell, do it now, because I’ve got things to take care of.”
“Fine. All I’ve got is that her real name is Lynn Reynolds and she lives in Greasy Ridge, West Virginia, her hometown.”
“That’s a lot. It confirms what I suspected, but… thanks, man.” Sawyer looked around the airport one more time. “Anything else?”
“Isn’t that enough?”
“I’m hanging up now, Larry.” Sawyer ended the call and called his office. Veronica answered on the second ring, efficient and upbeat.
“Hey, Veronica. Listen, don’t raise any alarms, but I may have lost Justine again.”
“I am not at liberty to discuss her with you, sorry.”
“Excuse me?”
“Apparently the two of you are no longer working together.”
“Who said?”
“She did. And it would be unprofessional to discuss a personal conversation with you, my boss.”
“You’ve worked for me for five years. I’m getting a promotion.” He couldn’t believe he was selling himself to his assistant. “You’ll get a raise.”
“Is there anything else I can help you with?”
“She didn’t come home, did she?”
She heaved a loud sigh. “I told you. I can’t tell you anything.”
“I’m an ass. I know, okay? Look, I need to talk to her, and all I need is a yes or no here, because if she didn’t come home, I can guess where she went, but I don’t want to waste a day flying there and then flying home. Or vice versa.” She didn’t speak, but she didn’t say no, so he pushed. “Please, Veronica.”
“No.”
“No, you won’t tell me or no she didn’t come home?”
“The latter though it should be the former.”
“You’re the best, seriously. Thank you.”
He used his expense card, that would be fun to explain, to try to get a seat on the next flight that would get him somewhere near Greasy Ridge. When that didn’t work, he called a travel agent he found on the Internet and gave her his personal bankcard numbers. Make a flight happen, he told her. He could’ve spent a week at some exclusive golf resort for what he paid.
It took him most of the day, but he pulled into the parking lot of the same hotel right as the sun slipped behind the mountains. She had to be here. And he had to find a way to make her not look disgusted anymore when she saw him.
He walked into the same dreary lobby to find the same gum-popper. “I need another room.”
“You want the one next to your girlfriend again?”
“Definitely.”
Without another word, she took his card and swiped it in exchange for the keys.
The rusted metal steps groaned as he climbed the stairs. Once he had opened his door and dropped his bags inside, he walked down to the next room. Paint flaked to the cement when he knocked.
Justine opened the door and shook her head. Her hand drifted to her stomach; her gaze slid away from him to the door-frame. She couldn’t even look at him. He could read her body language. One more person who’d let him into their lives, just to realize he didn’t deserve to be there.
Sawyer took an unsteady breath, trying to decide how to fix it. He usually walked away. Less complicated that way. She’d showered and changed and he could smell her skin, even from there, and he wanted to grab her and make her listen. Make her stop looking at him that way. That probably wouldn’t help much.
“No wonder he wanted you to spy on me, that was fast.”
“Can I come in?”
She shrugged and turned away, leaving the door wide open for him to follow. In the corner, at a small, banged up desk, she sat down and leaned her chin on the palm of her hand. “Well?”
“Yeah, I hadn’t planned this far ahead.”
“Wow, you’re good at this.” Her expression didn’t change.
“Tell me about it. I don’t remember ever caring if someone forgave me for something. I mean, I’ve apologized before. But, you know, because it’s what you do.”
“Fine, I forgive you. I don’t care anymore.”
He stared at the shaggy green carpet. He didn’t know what to say because he didn’t even know what he felt.
“Look, Sawyer, I know you let me search for Liann because it was a stupid waste of time, but I’m not quitting. Be sure to tell my father that I still think it’s a good idea. I know I don’t have any experience, but I’m not giving up.” She looked behind him at the clock. “It’s dinnertime. I have to go.”
“Where do we have to go?”
She shot him a look at the ‘we’ but otherwise ignored it. “Have dinner.”
“Right now? We have to go now?”
“I have to go now. You can go to hell.”
He followed her across the street to the diner, wondering when she’d become such a stickler for specific meal times.
They were seated after about ten minutes. The last time, the truck stop had been deserted. Today, he assumed because of the time, the bustling diner didn’t have one empty table.
After a short wait, they ordered, and he opened his mouth to ask her to pass the salt when she stood up and knocked on the table. “Excuse me? Could I have your attention please?”
He looked at her, horrified. “What are you doing?” he whispered.
Silence fell over the patrons, everyone’s attention drifting to Justine. “Riding the wave,” she murmured.
“Some of you know I’m looking for Liann Linell. You may not know, though, that my name is Justine Montgomery. My father is Daniel Montgomery.” Justine looked around the diner, met the gazes falling on her with her head held high. “I remember when Liann came to our house, when I was a little girl. She was so…vibrant, like the room could barely contain her.”
She smiled at one of the older women wearing a pale blue shawl. “So, I would never try to do her any harm or even upset her in any way. I only want to speak with her.”
One last look around the room and her sincerity, it radiated from her. “All I’m asking is that if anyone here is able to contact her, tell her that for me, and let her make up her own mind. Thank you.”
She sat back down with a deep, shaky breath then hopped up from her seat. “Also, I’m staying at the motel across the street. Enjoy your meals.”
Eyes wide, she settled into her chair and picked up her coffee. The cup trembled before meeting her lips.
“Damn. That was genius.”
“So, you don’t think it was crazy?”
“Are you kidding? It was the craziest thing I’ve seen you do, and considering we’ve only known each other a few weeks, that list is surprisingly long.” He bit into his burger and chewed with appreciation. “But it might work.”
Justine covered her face with her hands and took a deep breath. She picked at her fries, dabbing them in ketchup, dragging them around her plate, and nibbling at them.
“You’re not going to eat that burger, are you?”
“Take it.” She shook her head, murmuring in a monotone. “I think this is the craziest week of my life. Do you know the competition for that title? It’s pretty stiff.”
“I can imagine.” He took the burger, took a bite, and then he lost his appetite because, though she was hiding it well, she was a wreck. Her fingers shook, the fry doing a subtle little dance before she popped it into her mouth.
“Okay, princess, let’s get out of here. Ready for your grand exit?”
“I don’t have an exit strategy.”
“I’ve got it covered.”
She followed him up front. “What are you doing?” she asked, her voice soft.
“I’m going to buy them dinner.” He whipped out a credit card at random. What the hell, all his plastic was taking a hit today.
“No.” Justine grabbed his arm. “You can’t do that. They’ll think we’re trying to buy time with her. You’ll offend them. Remember the gas station?”
They were paused at the register, having this heated and whispered discussion. He looked between Justine and the waitress waiting to ring them up. “Seriously?”
The waitress nodded.
“Okay then. Just the burger specials.”
Outside, the air had turned frigid, their breath sending plumes of steam outward. It didn’t seem to be bothering her, because she took one slow, unsure step after another. “You okay?”
“Fine. Really. I’m just…great.” She didn’t look it. She looked a little pale.
“Wait here.” He took off next door to the gas station. He had to cheer her up or calm her down, whichever worked.
“I’m going to my room.”
“One minute. Wait for me,” he called to her, halfway through the door.
Inside, it was a little less like he’d traveled to a different planet. All convenience stores looked the same, fluorescent lights, rows and rows of junk food, coolers in the back. He bypassed four whole coolers of beer varieties and stopped at the wine. Fancy stuff, here. Four dollars a bottle for the best of it.
Outside, he held the brown bag close and grabbed her arm to rush them both across the street and up the stairs to her room. “Let’s celebrate.”
“Celebrate? We have a reason to celebrate?”
He leaned against the concrete wall while she unlocked her door. “I think you were incredible. That’s reason, right?”
She shrugged, and he followed her inside.
“Why are you here?” she asked, settling on the bed.
Sawyer snatched the little plastic-wrapped paper cups in the bathroom and ignored her. When he pulled off the brown paper bag and held up the wine, she gave him a derisive look.
“Plum wine. You came all the way here to buy me plum wine, bottled when? Six months ago?”
The smell of vinegar hit him as he filled both cups. “There’s something to be said for freshness.”
“Not in wine, I think.” She took a sip, swallowed hard, and exhaled harder. Her mouth formed a perfect ‘O’. “That is so bad. So, so bad.”
Sawyer ignored her and lifted his own glass. “We’re celebrating. Because that phone could ring any minute.” They both glanced at the old, silent phone.
“Or I could get arrested for stalking. They could make a pretty good case.” She turned her glare to the flimsy cup, as though it were to blame, and shoved it at him. Wine sloshed on his hand. Then she took off for the bathroom and slammed the door in his face.
After a minute, he put his hand on the door and wondered if cheap wine had been the wisest choice. “Are you okay?”
“Turn on the TV!”
“What? Why?”
“Because I said so, damn it. Turn it on!”
Sawyer crossed to the dresser, flipped on the TV, then went back to the bathroom door, barely registering the drone about a cold front blowing down from the north. He winced as she coughed and gagged. “You okay?”
Justine opened the door a crack, and all he could make out was her face. Shadows swallowed her eyes. “Get me the little bag, out of my suitcase.”
He unzipped her Louis Vuitton luggage, flopped the lid open, and took the bag back to her. She slammed the door in his face again, and he turned around, unsure what to do next.
Sawyer took a step closer to the suitcase. Right there on top was her lingerie. Pristine whites and lacy reds and were those purple and black striped panties? Another step closer. He glanced over his shoulder and gave up. “Siren’s call,” he muttered and picked up a lime green bra to turn it over in his hands.
She came out of the bathroom, and he turned, only to realize he was still holding the bra. He held it out to her, wordlessly, and she snatched it, closing the lid. “You were pawing through my lingerie?”
Sawyer shrugged and tugged her hand to face him. “Are you okay?”
“Why are you here? Why am I here? We have six viable candidates sitting in a filing cabinet.” She stopped to take a breath and then met his eyes. “Am I sabotaging myself?”
“Everything will be fine. I promise. She doesn’t call by noon tomorrow, we’ll go let those poor women out of the file cabinet, okay?”
“I’m not laughing at your jokes. Why are you here?”
“Because it’s where you are.”
“And my father told you to keep an eye on me.”
“No. Yeah, he did. But that’s not why. I need to be where you are, at least until you stop looking like somebody, well, like I ripped out your insides and forgot to put anything back.”
“Crap, now you’re going to be sweet? Now?” She tangled her fingers through the hair that covered her face and pushed it away. Next thing he knew, she’d wrapped her arms around his waist.
“Justine? Um… what are you doing?”
“I’m hugging you. Taking emotional comfort.”
“Like a leech.”
“Haven’t you ever hugged before?”
“I’ve never hugged anyone I wasn’t going to have sex with.”
“We’re not having sex.” She squeezed him tighter and rested her head on his shoulder. “Hug me back.”
Sawyer lifted his arms and wrapped them around her, his hands cupping her shoulders, pulling her closer. He dropped his head to rest on hers, and parts of him, so deep he couldn’t name them, pulled free and demanded his attention. Her hair smelled like fruit, the kind kids eat in the summer, juice dripping down their chins. “I’m fine with the hugging, but, just saying, I’m not responsible for any physical reaction hugging may induce.”
“Okay.” The word drifted out of her on a sigh.
He wasn’t equipped for this. There hadn’t been a lot of touching growing up, at least not the kind that didn’t end in a busted lip or a cracked rib. As an adult, there’d been lots of touching. But, not like this. The tighter he held her, the closer he wanted to be.
After a couple of minutes, he couldn’t take anymore. It seemed bigger than him, bigger and growing fast. He pulled back to look at her, hands still gripping her shoulders. “You look tired.”
“I haven’t slept since…” She tilted her head back, thinking. “I don’t remember. Couple of days.”
“So get some sleep.”
“I don’t know if I can.” She settled on the edge of the bed and looked down at her hands. “I have so many things running through my head right now.”
“I know what to do.” He slipped off the denim jacket he’d been wearing since some time last night. “Go find the least attractive thing you sleep in.”
She raised an eyebrow at him. “Why?”
“Because I said so. And because you need some sleep. You’ve got bags under your eyes big enough to hold your whole wardrobe.”
She lifted the lid of her luggage to pick through her clothes, grabbed something white she balled up in her hands, and dutifully went into the bathroom to change.
Sawyer looked at the closed door and then turned to the bed. He turned down the covers on one side and turned out the lights, except for the lamp beside the bed.
When she came out and flipped the bathroom light off behind her, Sawyer wanted to tell her to try again. Her choice was anything but unattractive. She’d slipped into a gown that settled halfway between her knees and…well, places he had no business concerning himself with. The gown flounced around her, touching her nowhere except under the arms and across her chest with a black ribbon gathering the material.
She lifted one foot and slid it behind the other. “Poppies.”
He dragged his gaze to her face. “What?”
“The flowers on the gown are poppies. They make you drowsy.” She slid her gaze to the side. “I found that amusing when I bought it.”
He held up his hands. “It’s fine. Get in the bed.”
“I don’t do pajamas. I have a thing against sleeping in pants. I like the way the sheets feel, cool and slippery, on my legs.” She looked past him to a corner of the room. “I talk a lot when I’m uncomfortable.”
“It’s fine.” He shifted toward the bed and then paused as her words sank in. “Wait, you have panties on, though, right?”
“Of course.”
He tilted his head to glance at her with a frown, trying not to look at her bare legs. “Are they hot?”
“Doesn’t matter.”
“Right, no. Doesn’t matter. Lay down.” She stopped beside him at the foot of the bed and they stared at the down-turned blankets. “I want to make sure you get some sleep. You get under the covers, and I’ll lie on top so I don’t invade your not-pants-wearing space.”
“You’re volunteering to give me emotional comfort.”
“Shut up, Justine.”
She hopped into bed, twisting to pull the covers to the top of her shoulders, and lay on her side. He climbed on top of the blanket, scooted close. “Do people send you designer nightgowns, too?”
“Trying to sleep here.”
Her body moved in the rhythm of breath, slowed down, as her muscles softened and relaxed. He wanted to kiss her shoulder, to press his lips against it, to find out if it was as soft as it looked. And what was that scent? Her hair fanned across her pillow and it smelled like… watermelon? Strawberries? Apples?
She interrupted his fruity thoughts, her voice soft and blurry. “Thank you.”
“I’m an ass.”
“You’re okay right now, though.”
“I’m using you, right now, because I like how you smell. I’m an ass.”
She didn’t speak again, and he realized she was out. He should get up. Go to his own room. Get away from the bare legs, under the covers, and the shoulder, and the hair. Try to put whatever had awoken during that hug back to rest. In a minute, he’d get his jacket and go.
****
Justine couldn’t say how long they slept. If pressed, in her half-asleep state, she wasn’t entirely sure if today was still today. She stretched like a cat. The phone rang, and she realized that’s why she’d awakened. She snaked a hand out to snatch it. Behind her, Sawyer’s arms tightened around her and she could feel his breath whispering across her back. “Mm-hmm, hello?”
“Justine? Did I wake you?”
She jerked upright, then checked to make sure Sawyer still slept. “Daddy. Yes, I was sleeping.” She slid out of bed to stand, awkward in the lamplight, tethered by the phone cord.
“Sorry, baby. I’ve been trying to track you down.”
“You found me.” She smiled brightly, then rolled her eyes at herself. “How did you find me?”
“Have you seen the tabloid?”
“You know how it is, Daddy. So much fake news to read, so little time.” She glanced back at Sawyer, suspicious. No way he called and told her father where they were while she slept. Had he?
“You know the one I mean. I hate those damn rags.” He sighed, something she’d heard a thousand times. She tested his patience, that’s what he’d told her since she was eight.
“How did you find me, Daddy?”
“Don’t be upset, but your mother mentioned it. I tortured her, pulled it out of her. Don’t blame her, I was worried about you. She was trying to reassure me.”
She was so relieved, she almost dropped the receiver. “I get it. I’m not angry.”
“Justine, the picture.”
“You mean the one Travis flew across the country in a drunken stupor to throw in my face. Right. What about it?”
“He was understandably upset.”
“Understandable if you’re a drunken psychopath, I guess.” She stretched the phone cord out to yank her red silk robe from the suitcase and belt it around her waist.
“Be that as it may, is it true?”
“Is the picture true? Obviously. I could hardly walk, much less find my way back to the hotel, thanks to Travis. But it wasn’t Sawyer’s fault. He didn’t touch me.” Much. “It was a picture of us getting out of the car.”
“I know that look on your face. The way you looked up at him.”
“Daddy, come on. I know what I’m doing. He works for you. Would I ever do something like that again?”
“So you’re not sleeping together?”
She looked back at the bed, where Sawyer stretched out. Oh, Daddy, if only it were that simple. She squeezed her eyes shut and projected every ounce of sincerity into her voice. “Not at all. We’re not sleeping together.”
“Good, because…Sawyer is an excellent employee. I can’t fault his work or his dedication.”
“Good for him.”
“But, baby, he’s not the settling type. And whether you want to admit it or not, you are. You don’t date. You fall without thought.”
“Right, bad judge of character. We’ve covered that.”
“No, he’s a good man, for work. He’ll break your heart.” He let out a huge breath. “Or he would’ve. All right, then.”
She opened her eyes and swallowed back the lump in her throat. “I’m going back to bed. Night, Daddy.”
“One more thing. Stop trying to find Liann Linell.”
“What? Why?”
“She’s not right for this. She’s a drunk, for one thing. Come home, we’ll figure something else out.”
He clicked the phone off, apparently refusing to listen to any arguments.
Justine dropped the phone in the old-fashioned cradle, surprised by the clang, and pressed her fists to her eyes, pushing away the anxiety that still went with doing what her father didn’t want her doing.
On the bed, Sawyer slept, completely still except for his breathing. She crossed to the bed and climbed up to rest on her knees, to watch him sleep. Her feelings stretched out before her, a deadly deep chasm, and she brushed her fingers across his forehead.
He blinked up at her, a frown line slashing his brows. “What’s wrong?”
“I don’t know what I’m doing,” she whispered.
“Not sleeping. What time is it?” Sawyer pushed himself up, searching the unfamiliar room for the clock.
Justine’s hand drifted to cover her eyes, her fingers cool against her hot face. “Late.”
The phone sputtered, and they both started, then turned to stare at it.
“Aren’t you going to answer it?”
She shook her head, scowling at the phone.
“It could be Liann.”
“It’s not. It’s my father, again.”
The phone went silent mid-ring, and she sat back on her haunches.
He turned his head, looking up at her. “Your father called?”
“He said to stop looking for Liann. He said…” He said you’d break my heart. She shook her head. “Nothing.”
The shrill ringing started again and he slid his gaze to the phone. “If you don’t answer it, I will.”
Since she didn’t want to spend the next hour explaining why he was in her room at, she took a look at the clock, ten thirty-seven p.m., she lifted the receiver. “Yes, Daddy?”
A bubbly laugh floated over the other end. “You must be Daniel Montgomery’s baby girl.”
Justine frowned, confused, and twisted the cord in her fingers. “To whom am I speaking?”
“Liann Linell. This is Daniel Montgomery’s daughter, Justine, isn’t it?”
“Yes, this is she. This is…awkward, I didn’t expect you to call me.”
“No, honey. Announcing to a room full of strangers in my own diner that you’re hunting me down and then encouraging them to enjoy their meals is awkward.”
“You own the diner?” Justine’s cheeks flamed all over again. “Could I come talk to you before you file the restraining order?”
“Far as I can tell, you’ve crossed the country and back trying to find me. You at least deserve a cup of coffee for your trouble.”
Justine’s lungs felt like a leaky tire, and she couldn’t muster more than, “Where can I find you?”
“You remember my mama’s house? Keep driving up the mountain, and you’ll find me.” The woman made it sound like she was asking them over for Sunday dinner. They made arrangements to meet the next morning and Liann said, “Y’all be careful. It’s getting cold, and that mountain road freezes where the springs run across.”
No clue what she meant, Justine assured her they would and hung up. She hesitated over the cradle, then picked the receiver back up and put it on the table. No more calls tonight. She said, “She’s going to see us.”
His hand cupped the back of his head, and he lay sprawled across the bed in the same position as before, saying nothing. She touched his brow again, fluttering her fingertips over the line there. “Thank you.”
Sawyer shrugged and frowned down at the tangled sheets. “I guess you got what you wanted.”
“Did I?” True, Liann had called. But finding her, it had cost too much, maybe. Stupid, to go off alone with this man she’d already wanted so much. And then, to find out he was reporting on her. So much like before.
But he must care for her. Maybe he couldn’t admit it, not yet. But he followed her here to make sure she was okay. To ease the pain he’d caused. Held her, laid with her.
No, this wasn’t like before.
Justine put her fists on the bed and dipped her head until they were cheek to cheek. Turning to face him, she let her lips skim across the stubble on his cheek. A short sound escaped him at the touch. So like a growl, it inflamed her. She’d wanted to experience all of him, to touch and taste, a savage need to possess him took over. To take his mouth, to take him inside of her, until she drove all thought from him, the way he’d done to her. His scent flooded her senses, leaving her breathless, as she sought his kiss.
He pulled back to look at her, his eyes as unreadable as ever. He lifted his hand to her cheek and stroked her bottom lip with his thumb. “What is it?” she asked, her breath still coming in uneven bursts.
“I don’t want to give you the wrong idea.” His hand dropped and he eased himself from the mattress.
“About?”
He crossed behind her, to the door, and she twisted on the bed to look at him. Her robe gaped open with the movement, and she yanked it together with a hand, exposed now.
But he wouldn’t meet her gaze, wouldn’t look at her at all, so it didn’t much matter. He looked at the TV, the window, the floor. Everywhere but at her. “About us.” Finally, he let his gaze rest on her.
Justine flinched slightly, and she hoped he hadn’t noticed. She forced herself to maintain eye contact. “You should go now.”
Sawyer spoke her name, his voice soft and full of pity. For her.
“Don’t. Don’t say it like that. Pathetic Justine, so unwise when she chooses a lover.” Justine climbed off the bed and walked the ten steps across the room to stand in front of him. “You know, I never thought I’d meet anyone more emotionally broken than me.”
“I’m trying to do the right thing here, which is a pretty novel experience for me, so…give me a break.”
Justine whirled away, grabbed his jacket off the chair where he’d dropped it earlier, and threw it at his head. “Get. Out.”
Sawyer caught the jacket before it slapped him upside the head, which disappointed her. He opened the door and then wrenched back around to look at her. “This is twice I haven’t taken advantage of you when you threw yourself at me. Next time, I’m using you for sex. You couldn’t possibly be more pissed by that.”
“There won’t be a next time!”
The door slammed behind him, and she jumped, staring at it for the longest time. She couldn’t get back in that bed, not now. She’d been so foolish, attributing feelings to him he didn’t have, to rationalize her own desires were getting the best of her.
Ripping the bedding away from the mattress, she dared herself to cry. To shed one more useless tear for him. The man swore at every turn that he didn’t care a thing for her. Just when she was ready to believe him, he did something thoughtful or sweet.
She plucked the top sheet from the jumbled bedding. Wrapping it around her, she plopped into the chair by the window and pulled her knees to her chest. She should go next door and tell him to trade rooms. Except the blankets were now everywhere. And that would be a tiny bit childish.
Kind of like calling him emotionally broken or throwing him out because she’d ignored every word he said about his feelings for her, or his lack of feelings for her. And mistaking his actions as somehow deep and meaningful when really he was being… He’d been nice. So basically, she was a crazy stalker chick. She was a bunny short of going Fatal Attraction.
She owed him an apology, she supposed. God, why couldn’t anything ever be easy? She knew one thing, with certainty. Only one. She needed to go home. He was like a black hole, and she couldn’t resist the pull. As soon as she talked to Liann, got a decision one way or the other, she was going home.