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Chapter 18
Sierra
Icouldn’t stand itany longer. For the whole week I felt like I’d been living a lie. I couldn’t look my brother in the face, especially when I was having dreams about Cullen and me kissing.
And I got it. I got that Cullen respected Sawyer enough to want to tell him in person about us, but the more I thought about it, the more I decided it wasn’t Cullen’s job.
It was mine. I should tell my brother about Cullen and me.
Sawyer was my brother, my very dear brother who I loved to pieces. He’d be happy for me—wouldn’t he? I had no reason to believe otherwise. After all, he’d warned me off Luke Lander who had asked me to the sophomore Homecoming Dance, and then Damian Steer who had asked me to the Valentine’s Dance. He loved Cullen, so surely he would be pleased for us.
By the time I’d plucked up the courage to confront him, Sawyer had already gone to bed. I thought he was in the den, and I’d taken a deep breath, rocked on in, only to find the television going and the lights on, but Sawyer nowhere in sight.
It required another burst of bravery to pad down to his room and knock on his door. I kind of hoped he was asleep and wouldn’t answer.
“What?” His somewhat disgruntled call indicated I was interrupting something, and sure enough he was gaming.
“Uh, are you all ready for tomorrow?” I asked, only my head visible to him.
“Yeah,” he said.
“Uh, the Captain’s Chat interview went really well,” I said, stepping inside his room. “Did you see it yet?”
“Yeah. Millie did a good job.”
“I helped with the boom pole,” I said, zig zagging over his clothes strewn about the floor.
“You told us at dinner.”
“Oh yeah,” I said in a fluster. It would be easy to leave, say goodnight and disappear, but that would be the coward’s way out, the immature decision. And Sawyer had to know I wasn’t a kid anymore. Sure, I was his kid sister but I was grown up, and I had feelings, valid feelings, and I was crazy about Cullen.
Sawyer paused his game and put down his controller. “You want something?”
I clenched my fists by my side, digging my fingernails into my palms. I could do this. Sawyer was my brother, not the big bad wolf!
“Um, I wanted to tell you something,” I said, almost tempted to pick his clothes up from the floor. At least then I wouldn’t have to look him in the eye.
“What?”
“Well, not actually me,” I dithered. “Cullen wanted to tell you. But I think I should.” It was good to see he at least hung his blazer and school pants on the back of his chair.
