Chapter 8

DO NOT READ THE NEXT SENTENCE.

You little rebel, you!

-T-shirt

Sawyer

It was hours later that I was finally able to catch my breath.

“Is that normal…I don’t think that was normal,” I said, eyes getting heavy as I thought about all that we’d just done.

Silas chuckled huskily.

“Yeah, Sawyer. That’s normal.”

“I think you’re lying…sex can’t really be that good all the time. I mean, I’m a little rusty, but I don’t remember it ever being like that,” I told him.

His arms around me tightened, and I realized that he didn’t like hearing about my ‘other time’ while I was naked in bed with him.

“While we do this, there’ll be no one else. Understand?” He asked quietly.

I could ascertain an underlying sound of menace in his voice, and I readily agreed.

“Yeah. I understand. And it’s not like I’ll ever be doing that again…I just wanted to see if it would wo…”

I froze on what I was about to say, but Silas picked up on it.

“Wanted to see if what would work?” He asked, rolling so he was on top of me.

I shook my head, really not wanting to bring up why I’d gone out searching for a one-night stand.

“My dress. I wanted to see if it’d pick up the guys like I thought it would,” I lied.

He scoffed. “Honey, you were wearing a skirt, and you had to have known that anything that short, on anyone, would’ve garnered a man’s attention. Now how about you stop lying to me and tell me what you really meant.”

I paused thinking about what to say.

“Being out of prison for me is…hard,” I finally said.

His eyes searched mine.

“Yeah.” He nodded in understanding. “It’s going to continue to be hard.”

I closed my eyes, not liking what I heard.

“I don’t feel like I deserve to be out,” I admitted.

I could feel his eyes as he stared at me.

“Why not?” He asked softly, smoothing a piece of my hair off my forehead.

“I killed four people,” I said, tears immediately rushing to the surface.

“What happened?” He asked.

I closed my eyes. “I had one beer,” I whispered, tears starting to pour from my eyes. “One. And it ruined my life.”

He blinked. “You had one beer? That’s it?”

I nodded. “Just a single Solo cup full.”

“I remember reading the newspaper article. It didn’t say anything about only one beer. It said you were drunk, over the legal alcohol limit. You are a small woman, but you wouldn’t have gotten drunk off of only a single cup full,” he rumbled, sitting up and turning on the light.

I nodded. “I wasn’t drunk at all. In fact, I was barely even buzzed. I used to drink a glass of wine every night back then, so it wasn’t like I had alcohol intolerance. It was just a bad deal,” I whispered.

His face, though, showed his incredulity.

“What did the police report say? What was your blood alcohol level?” He asked, sitting up in the bed and throwing the covers off his lap.

I watched as he walked to the bathroom and flipped on the light before shutting it slightly behind him.

“I never heard what my blood alcohol level was, but then again, I didn’t really care at that point. I’d just killed four people, one of which I graduated with,” I informed him.

I heard the sound of him using the bathroom, and I wondered if he even heard me.

But after I heard the toilet flush, and the sound of him washing his hands, he came out with a worried look on his face.

“If you don’t mind,” he said tentatively, “I’d like to look into your case.”

I shrugged. “That’s fine. I’d always hoped for parole at four years. That was what my lawyer promised me would happen. But I was denied.”

I frowned.

That denial had hurt.

Badly.

I didn’t even know why I was telling him all of this.

He’d asked, and I’d told him things that I hadn’t even told my own mother.

“Who was your lawyer?” He asked.

“A family friend,” I told him instantly.

He frowned. “Was your family friend a good lawyer? You don’t fuck around with something like that. You needed the best. Not someone that would feel obligated to help you.”

“He’s dead now, so I wouldn’t really know. We got what we could afford, which sadly wasn’t much. Not that it matters now since it’s all over,” I whispered, looking down at my hands.

He looked at me like I’d grown a second head.

“It’s not all over,” he rumbled, getting back into bed beside me.

I blinked. “What do you mean? I served my eight years.”

“You’re telling me you don’t lie awake at night and think about how horrible you are?” He asked.

I snapped my mouth shut.

I did do that.

“And you don’t mind the whispers from all the townsfolk?” He continued.

I laid back down on the bed and pressed my face into the pillow.

I didn’t want to talk about this.

“I’m not hearing your answer,” he said knowingly.

I narrowed my eyes into the pillow.

“It’s understandable. I killed four people. What do you want them to do, thank me?” I snapped, turning my head and glaring at him from across the sheets.

Maybe I should go.

Except I couldn’t really leave since I’d left my car an hour away.

Fucking great.

“You can check the fuckin’ attitude, Sawyer, I’m only trying to help. I’ve been in law enforcement since I was eighteen years old; I know a thing or two about laws. And the fact that you killed four people while not being drunk, because they pulled out in front of you, is not something you go to jail for eight years for,” he snapped. “All I’m trying to tell you is it doesn’t make fuckin’ sense. You didn’t even take a plea deal. I can’t figure out why you were even in jail.”

I shrugged.

“I don’t know,” I said, duly chastised.

He placed his rough palm on my cheek. “I’ll look into it…but it wasn’t your fault, from what I remember of the wreck. They had no lights on, and they pulled out in front of you. Trust me, I think something’s missing here, and I’m going to find out what it is.”

I turned my head to run my lips over the palm of his hand. “Thank you, Silas.”

I didn’t really want him to look into anything.

But I could tell by the determination in his eyes that he wasn’t going to let this one rest.

Besides, what could it hurt?

Silas finally plunged the room into darkness, and I closed my eyes in exhaustion.

Mostly because of the way I’d been so well and thoroughly used tonight, but also partially due to the fact that I can’t talk about the past, about what happened without feeling emotionally drained.

God, I hated reliving the past.

And, sadly, I did it every night in my dreams.

Just, hopefully, not this night.

Especially since I felt so safe in the arms that’d just gathered me close.

“Go to sleep,” he rumbled.

I pressed my lips to his hairy chest and kissed him softly before turning to rest my head on his bicep.

His fingers trailed through my hair, and my eyes started to droop.

Then, I was asleep.

My dreams haunted me still, but I had Silas and his badass self there to scare them away this night.

What I didn’t realize, though, was that I’d only given him even more fuel for the determination he felt to find out what exactly had happened.

Although I’d had no idea I did it, apparently I spoke during my nightmares.