I nod to Sawyer and we leave my house. There’s a car parked outside, and I frown at Sawyer.
“You got a rental?”
“Didn’t know how long I’d be here. Thought you’d take more persuading to leave.”
“What’s more persuasive than being told you’re a killer?” I shrug, trying to be tough, but Sawyer doesn’t fall for it at all. He hesitates like he wants to reach for me, but instead opens my door. I slide in and shove my backpack down by my feet. No need to use the trunk.
“I’m a killer too,” he whispers quietly. Fuck. I instantly feel bad.
“Do you have a job to go back to?”
“My father has some work for me. I’m hoping to secure a teaching post at one of the other local schools, but we’ll see.”
I nod. This is my fault, but saying so will only make it seem like I’m looking for pity and comfort. I want neither. I think back to Slate begging me to stay away from Sawyer – he said losing his job would literally kill him – and guilt settles heavily in my stomach. Why do I feel worse about his job than the teacher who died?
Because it wasn’t you, my subconscious whispers at me. I tell it to shut the fuck up and bury that thought down. Some secrets have to go to the grave.
We drive to the airport in silence. I’m tense, but Sawyer seems at ease. I have a million questions about the guys, what happened when I left, what I’m returning to. My pride doesn’t allow me to ask a single one.
When we get to the airport Sawyer pulls up at the place where the rental cars get dropped off.
“You sure you want to go now? I have a hotel we can stay at if you want to take a few days.”
I swallow at his suggestion. Sawyer and I, alone in a hotel, for a few days? Where do I sign up?!
“I’m sure I’ll be able to get another room.”
He dashes my hopes and dreams, which is probably for the best because I’m supposed to be mad at all of them still. And I am. But if I spend too long in close proximity to Sawyer, I know I’ll crumble and cave.
“No. Let’s do this.” I climb out of the car, needing to be away from him. Because 24 hours in the small confines of a plane ought to be easy, right?
Chapter Three
Sawyer
I can’t take my eyes off her. From the moment she walked downstairs in her home, to now, I’ve been unable to stop staring.
First, she appeared in tiny cut off denim shorts and a tank, with way more skin on show than at home where it’s winter. Seeing her curves again reminded me of the times I had her naked. Not enough, not nearly enough.
The second thing that struck me, after how irresistible she looked, was how relaxed she appeared. To begin with, I thought it was happiness, and I hated myself for having to be the one to ruin that, but then I realised she wasn’t happy. There was pain in her eyes, plain to see once the shock of my arrival diminished.
I instantly wanted to hurt whoever had hurt her. There was that cryptic comment in the car about her brother and this other guy – the best friend – protecting her but damaging her too. I’d bet my life that she was referring to the big guy and not her brother.
I reach up and touch my face, wincing slightly where he hit me. I really didn’t see that one coming, so I guess Amelie toldhim what we did. If she did, I’m surprised he only hit me once. I deserve much worse.
Beside me, Amelie is fidgeting like crazy, drawing me out of my thoughts.
“What’s up with you? Ants in your pants?” I smirk, trying to lighten the mood. She’s not spoken much, and I can only imagine what she’s going through right now.
“I’m not wearing any,” she immediately quips back, smiling. When she realises what she just said – or perhaps who she said it to – her grin falls and pain flashes across her face once more. My dick twitched at her joke, but died a death at the reminder of the suffering my brothers and I inflicted on her.
Fuck.
We need to put this right.
“Why are you so restless?” I try again.
“Because this flight is taking forever! Why?”
