Page 28 of Sinful as They Come (Sinful Trilogy #1)

HOLLY

My list of people I was speaking to for the special edition of The Chronicle included ten students. Nine had already been interviewed – including Brodie, who was rather proud about his vase. That meant I had one person left to talk to. And of course, it was none other than Sawyer Westbrook.

I sighed as I looked through my locker. I could see the notebook I had been using for all of my interviews, but I didn’t want to touch it, because I truly did not want to have a one-on-one conversation with Sawyer. It wasn’t just because of our history. No.

It was because… God, he wasn’t supposed to see what he saw that night. The stuff with me and Carter. No one was supposed to see that, but my bad luck had my enemy stumbling upon one of my most humiliating moments.

Sawyer had watched me go back down to the fire after my confession.

Confessions . I was pretty sure I spilled every last secret I had right then and there, blubbering away like an idiot.

He probably laughed in his head at how pathetic I looked.

But it hadn’t seemed like he found any of it funny.

Instead, he had given me what I wanted, what I needed: and that was help.

There was no reason for him to lend me a helping hand.

He never had before, but he had never been around when Carter was all aggressive and pushy.

Sawyer had kept a watchful eye on me as I walked back down to the fire.

I had felt his eyes on me as I moved slowly, arms wrapped around myself as I sat back down with Annie, asking her what she had wanted only for her to frown and tell me she had no clue what I was talking about .

Sawyer could have walked away. Could have shrugged, laughed, and ignored the desperation in my voice. But he had done the opposite.

Ever since school started Sawyer always seemed to just be there. In my classes. At football games. Inside my house. Staring at me in hallways while my boyfriend kissed me. He was inescapable.

And now I was interviewing him.

I had approached Sawyer earlier during the day – while he was with Brodie, of course, because I needed some form of protection.

I had asked him when and where he wanted to do the interview and he groaned so loud I thought he was possessed for a second.

He finally mumbled out a “library” and a “four” and then he smacked his locker shut and walked away from me.

It was quarter to four when I arrived at the library, getting settled at a free table.

The clock soon struck four, but Sawyer was nowhere to be seen.

When he was ten minutes late, I wasn’t bothered.

I could tolerate that. But when it hit twenty minutes, I was starting to get annoyed.

When he was officially forty minutes late, I realized how well and truly stupid I was for ever thinking I could rely on someone like Sawyer.

Did he not get how much work I had to do?

And not just for The Chronicle. There was a lot on my plate school wise and Sawyer’s lateness wasn’t making it any easier.

I huffed so loudly I was pretty sure Mrs. Tomlinson – the head librarian –gave me a death stare.

But I had every right to huff and moan.

Sawyer being late shouldn’t have been a surprise to anyone, and I wasn’t about to wait for him a second longer. I was, however, ready to scream at him and call him every mean name I could come up with.

My head shook as I left the library and stomped over to my car.

Sawyer had done it on purpose. There was nothing he loved more than annoying me.

I quickly thought about the other night at Alden Lake.

For a moment, he had showed me a hint of kindness, and I had wondered if there was more to Sawyer than met the eye. But I should have known better.

My irritation with Sawyer had me driving over to his place.

He had wasted my afternoon, and I was going to let him know it.

I made my way to Mills Mobile Home Park and pulled up in front of the light-colored trailer he called home.

He was probably in there sleeping or watching hockey with Brodie.

I glared, banging an angry fist on the door three times.

I gasped a little when it swung open suddenly.

There stood Sawyer with a bruised right eye and a bleeding bottom lip.

My own lips parted, taken aback by the look of him.

His hair looked more disheveled than usual as he ran one of his big hands through his locks.

Sawyer was breathing heavy as he held the door open.

“What do you want?” he mumbled at me.

“I… We were supposed to do that interview…” It suddenly felt so silly and unimportant. “Are you okay?”

“I’m fine. Go home,” he said sharply.

But he was hurt, and he had helped me the other day, so who was I to turn around and walk away? “Do you need help?”

He sucked in a breath. “Holly…”

“Your eye is gonna get swollen. Let me help you. Please.” I looked up at him with what were probably pleading eyes. I couldn’t walk away from him, not after the help he had given me. Any frustration I had felt about him being late quickly went away. “You… You helped me the other night.”

“I didn’t do that so you’d do me a favor later on.”

I shut my eyes for a moment. “I know. That’s not why I’m doing this, either.”

“Why are you doing this?”

“I don’t know… You showed me some thoughtfulness the other night, Sawyer. Let me show some to you.”

He sighed. “You aren’t gonna go home, are you?”

I shook my head. No, I wasn’t.

Sawyer sucked in another sharp breath before stepping aside, allowing me to move into the trailer. The space was small but cozy. And quiet. Very quiet. Brodie must have been out. But what about his dad?

“Is your dad home?” I asked quietly. I had a feeling he was the one who gave Sawyer that bruise and cut on his face.

“No,” he answered fast. “I wouldn’t have let you in here if he was. ”

I couldn’t work out if that was to keep me away from the violence or because he was embarrassed. Maybe it was both. Either way, I still wanted to help.

“Your eye looks pretty bad.” My voice was laced with shame. I had stumbled upon something I wasn’t supposed to see, but leaving Sawyer with a bruised eye – and possibly a bruised ego – wasn’t something I could go through with.

“I’m okay,” Sawyer muttered, a few strands of hair in his eyes. “This isn’t my first black eye.”

“Let me… Let me just help you.” I made way to Sawyer’s fridge.

The kitchen was only a few feet away from where I was standing and I realized then how confined the space truly was.

From behind me I could hear Sawyer sigh.

Maybe I should have left, but something was stopping me.

I felt compelled to stay and help him. I didn’t want to leave him alone and I had no idea when Brodie was going to be back.

I moved to the small kitchen and flung open the freezer door.

It was borderline empty. There was a bag of frozen peas, a half empty bag of frozen carrots, and what looked like sausages.

It was so nosy of me, but I was tempted to open the bottom door.

I was suddenly hit with a question I had never really thought about: was Sawyer eating?

Like, proper meals with his five serves of vegetables and fruits every day?

Maybe it was none of my business. I shook my head and grabbed the cold bag of peas.

Turning around, the first thing I noted was Sawyer’s eyes on me.

Dark, brooding eyes. Was he mad at me for trying to help?

He was slumped in one of the kitchen chairs, an elbow resting lazily on the table, his legs splayed open.

“Here.” I moved over to him. “For your eye.”

“I don’t need it,” Sawyer said with a casual shrug.

“Yes, you do. Come on. This can help with the swelling.”

“Holly, I don’t want the fuckin’ green beans.”

“They’re peas.”

“Same thing.”

“Don’t be stubborn. ”

“I’m not being stubborn. You’re the one standing in my home uninvited.” He stood up suddenly.

“I have a reason for being here. Now, peas.”

My hand was up against his chest before he could fight me back. Giving him a slight shove, Sawyer fell back into the chair. Then I pressed the cold bag to his eye. I winced when he did, but soon he seemed to relax under my touch.

“Well, what’s your reason?” Sawyer mumbled.

I tilted my head at him. “Hm?”

“What’s your reason for being here?”

“Oh.” I cleared my throat a little. “We were supposed to do that interview, remember? You know, about your painting…”

Sawyer sucked in a sharp breath. “Yeah, I was a little busy this afternoon.”

“I didn’t know. I wouldn’t… I wouldn’t have come here… I mean… I… Are you okay?” I finally asked.

Sawyer grabbed my wrist suddenly, forcing me to lower the peas. Using his other hand, he grabbed the green bag and tossed it to the table with a little thud. But his hand was still on my wrist, holding me in place in front of him. His touch wasn’t rough or angry, but it was firm.