Page 67 of Say Yes to the Death

“I would respect you less if you hadn’t.” His thousand-watt smile lit up his entire face.

“I trust you. I think.” The knife sock jabbed into her ribcage. She shuffled it out of the way and took a sip. The wine—an earthy Bordeaux, if she had to guess—tasted ordinary. Who knew Sawyer had good taste in wine? “Just know that if you plan to murder me, Rosie will be an orphan. You don’t want that on your conscience.”

“If I murdered you, I would one hundred percent dognap Rosie and take her across the country under an assumed name.”

Claire frowned. “That’s comforting.”

“Sorry, bad joke.” The glass looked comically small and spindly in Sawyer’s meaty fist. He swirled it expertly before taking a sip. “You were about to say something? Before the roofies incident.”

“Oh, right. I know I’ve said it before, but I never really thanked you properly for saving my life.” Suspicious or not, she wouldn’t be here if he hadn’t intervened.

His glass clattered when it hit the dog-shaped coaster on the worn coffee table. “You did. At least twice now. Besides, you don’t owe me any thanks. Any decent human being would have done the same thing.”

“I’m not sure that’s true. You literally put yourself between me and a maniac. And here I am treating you like a criminal.”

Sawyer smiled. “You’re right to be suspicious. You went through a terrible trauma. I still think you would’ve been fine without me, though. You’re resourceful. Scrappy, even.”

“I don’t think I would have. But I appreciate your confidence.” She leaned back again, tugging a flannel blanket around her. It smelled like the woods.

He was silent for a moment.

“Have you ever talked to anyone about what happened that night? Like really talked?” The armchair squeaked as he leaned back.

She bit her bottom lip. “Kind of. Just bits and pieces. Every time I try to tell the whole story, it’s like a wall goes up and my mind just shuts down. They—my family and friends—know the important parts.”

He nodded. “That’s pretty common after a trauma, according to my mom anyway. She’s a psychologist. You know, a few sessions with a therapist would probably be really helpful for you.”

Ugh, again with the therapy. She didn’t need someone poking around in her brain.

“That’s what everyone’s saying.” She shook her head and fixed her gaze on her sleeping dog.

“You can talk to me too. If you’re not ready for therapy.”

Claire smiled. “Thanks. It’s hard to talk to my friends about it. They’re been treating me like I’m made out of glass. Nicole cries every time I bring it up, and Mindy starts swearing and plotting revenge. And my mother—don’t even get me started.”

And Luke? He only wanted her to talk to his camera.

“Did you want to talk about why you’re here? And not at Mindy’s or Nicole’s? Or Luke’s?” Sawyer asked. Curiosity must have finally won out.

“Searching for more information to sell to the press?”

His eyebrows knit together.

“Sorry, that wasn’t fair.” Maybe he would have some valuable insight about the Luke situation. Her only other close male friend was Kyle, and she wasn’t about to discuss her relationship—or lack thereof—with Luke’s best friend.

She stood and walked behind the couch. This didn’t seem like a story to tell sitting down. “Mindy and Nicole were busy. And Luke and I kind of…imploded.”

Claire rehashed the story. Sawyer listened patiently as she paced around the room. Did all of this sound juvenile? When she finished, she turned to him hesitantly.

“I’m not in any position to comment on your relationship. But that was a shitty thing to do.”

“Thank you. It really was.” She leaned against the back of the overstuffed couch, vindicated. A yawn escaped that was so large, her entire body shuddered.

“You look exhausted. Want to hit the hay?”

“That would probably be best,” she said, an ocean of weariness seeming to weigh her to the spot.

Tomorrow would be a better day. It had to be.

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