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“Get out,” Sawyer growled, his hand squeezing mine with unmatched force. The expression on his face was enough, for the fucking couple quickly got it together, grabbing their clothes and skedaddling.
My eyes roamed the room, finding a glass lamp, a semi-open drawer in the dresser, other various objects I could use if I had to. Growing up how I grew up, you tended to notice these things without really trying. I had no idea if Sawyer got off on things like forcing himself on others, but I knew he didn’t have to to get his dick wet. Girls fawned over him like crazy. Still, though, you never knew with people. Sometimes they surprised you in the worst of ways.
Sawyer closed the door behind him, his blue eyes icy. The room smelled of sweat and sex; two things I shouldn’t notice just before talking to Sawyer about Declan.
“Why the fuck would you bring up that dickhead’s name in my house?” Sawyer growled out, absolutely livid.
I walked around the room, studying it. It all seemed pretty clean, in spite of the sweaty, messed-up sheets. It wasn’t what I would’ve pictured his room to be. “Is this your room?” I asked, tossing him a look over my shoulder. A picture of a cityscape hung on the wall, the buildings all shadows and the sun in oranges and pinks behind them. It was a pretty painting.
“Why don’t you answer my question first?” Sawyer shot back, frowning.
I went to sit on the bed, near the lamp. “You know, I don’t think I’m going to. From what I hear, I’m the one who should be asking you all the questions, Sawyer Salvatore.” His last name felt weird on my tongue; too fancy, too rich.
“You have a lot of nerve, showing up to my party, bringing up that bastard, and then acting like you’re the one in the right.”
My hand roamed the mattress underneath me. It was a comfortable one. I could easily fall asleep here; so much comfier than the mattresses in the dorm rooms. “Here’s the thing, Sawyer. From where I sit, it looks like you’re a bully. Bullies are so elementary, by the way.” He opened his mouth to retort, but I went on, “And no one likes a bully. You might have some skills with your dick, but that’s not going to get you far in life. What will get you far is your parents’ money. That is how you got this house, right?”
He took a few steps toward me. “And your point is? You have no idea what went down between Declan and my sister. No idea—”
“I know he loved her, and she killed herself.”
He probably wanted to strangle me, but he held back. Sawyer was not happy when he said, “She didn’t kill herself.” The rich boy sounded so sure of himself, like there wasn’t a doubt in his mind that Sabrina had been murdered.
“What makes you so sure?” I’d read the articles, but ultimately, it was ruled a suicide. If all the signs pointed to murder, I was reasonably certain the police would’ve investigated it.
“Because she was my sister,” Sawyer practically shouted, fuming. “Because I knew her.”
I got to my feet, tilting my head. “Didn’t you know Declan, too? You were friends before all this went down. Did you ever stop and wonder how he feels about it, or were you too busy drowning in your own grief that you blamed him for it?”
Sawyer’s shoulders rose and fell with heavy breaths. Sabrina was a touchy subject for him, as was Declan. The smooth, suave man from downstairs was long gone now, a frowning, red-faced man in his place. “She was my sister. There’s no trumping family. Someone from a trailer park like you should know that by now.”
Wow. A trailer park. I expected to hear a lot of insults about my family’s lack of money, but a trailer park? Mom and I were always short on money, but that didn’t mean we were from a trailer park—and even if we were, there was nothing wrong with it. Apparently those from trailer parks could still be less of a dick than those born into money.
“Yeah, well sometimes you’re born into a sucky family. My mom? I love her. But my dad? He could go jump off a bridge and I wouldn’t care. Friends are the family you choose to make.” God. What the hell was I doing, lecturing Sawyer Salvatore? It was like talking to a wall. A brick wall. Pointless all around, and it would only lead to annoyance.
“Poor people say that shit. When you have money, things are different.” Sawyer looked at me hard, as if he knew something I didn’t. Which, granted, he probably did, because I was the one who walked into this mess a week ago.
One week ago. That’s it? Felt like so much longer.
“What?” I said, instantly aggravated by his flippant tone and his haughty stare. If I could punch a look off his face, I would. But alas, the bastard was stronger than me. Punching him in the face would only lead to an aching knuckle on my part.
“Declan told you all about Sabrina, did he?” Sawyer moved to lounge on the bed, spreading out his legs before me. Such long, strong legs. His blazer fell open, and with the position he had on the bed, an inch of his abdomen peeked out beneath his shirt, an abdomen that looked ridiculously well-muscled and toned. “Did he tell you that they were broken up when it happened?”
My mouth was open before he finished his question, and I was readying myself for a comeback, but what he said…it wasn’t what I was expecting. No, Declan most definitely did not tell me that little tidbit. He’d chosen to keep that part to himself. Why?
“He didn’t,” Sawyer said, sitting up at the edge of the bed, leaning as close to me as he could without actually getting up. “He didn’t tell you, because he knew you’d think he did it. No one knew they were broken up but me. And Travis, but—”
“Travis knew, too?” Ugh. The way I asked, how I leaned in, as if I’d known all these guys for longer than a week. It was driving me bonkers. I hated it.
Sawyer nodded. “We were all friends before that. I grew up with them both.” And yet he blamed Declan and not Travis. What if someone forced Sabrina to write that note blaming Declan? Or what if she just kicked off her chair a bit too hard and sent it across the room? The police ruled it a suicide, so there had to be more than Sawyer was saying.
“What is it about him that makes you believe him?” Sawyer asked, his voice low. He stared up at me through half-closed eyes, far too serious suddenly. My heart thudded in my chest. If only we weren’t talking about his sister’s supposed murder; on a normal occasion, I wouldn’t mind a guy giving me a look like that.
“I don’t get a killer vibe off him,” I said, knowing how stupid I sounded the moment I said it. “And you? I think you’re just entitled. I think you want someone to blame, so you blame him. It’s easy to blame someone else, especially when that someone is still alive.” Blaming his dead sister for committing suicide? Hell would freeze over before Sawyer did that.
Now that I said it, I knew what I believed, at least where Declan and Sawyer were concerned. I didn’t think either of them had anything to do with what Sabrina did. Granted, I could be totally off base here since I was so new to the situation, and these guys have had just under a year to put on their masks, but if I was wrong, I’d be shocked.
Sawyer was a tool, a bit of an overconfident ass, but he wasn’t a killer, and Declan? Like I said before: cinnamon roll, too precious for this world.
