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The silence meant he was waiting for me to continue. I drew in a gulp of air and swallowed. “Well, it’s about me and Cullen—” I started to say.
He cut in with assertion. “I know.”
I inhaled sharply, my mind spinning. “What? Did he tell you already? But he said he was going to wait till tomorrow, after the game.”
“I saw you,” Sawyer said, his brown eyes narrowing.
“What?” I gasped in alarm, an unwanted vision flashing through my mind of him seeing us kissing.
Sawyer picked up his controller and restarted his game like he had no further interest in the conversation.
“What?” I asked more urgently, racing over to his bedside.
“I saw you in the hot tub together.”
“We didn’t do anything in the hot tub!” I protested. “Sawyer! We didn’t do anything.”
Sawyer was now annoyingly concentrating on his game, taking precious seconds to answer. “I know, I just saw you talking. But I’m not stupid.”
I clamped down on my lower lip, my heart palpitating wildly, wondering if there was more to come, whether he was about to unleash his disapproval.
But his next words were spoken softly, his lips curling up in a smug smile. “Why do you think I went to bed early?”
My pounding heart was on the verge of bursting out of my rib cage. All the secrecy for nothing. My brother’s hawk eyes knew and saw everything!
I took a moment to regain my composure, but I was wary. “You’re not angry?” That infuriating silence again as he watched the screen. “Sawyer!”
He halted his game with a sigh. “Sierra, I’m not angry,” he stated calmly.
“Cullen was worried,” I said. “He wanted to tell you about us.”
Sawyer’s chin lifted. “Typical Cully. Worrying about everyone else.”
“So you’re really okay with it?”
“Cully’s one of the good guys.”
“Yeah,” I said, “he’s the best.”
“Don’t tell him,” Sawyer said.
“What?”
“Don’t tell him you told me already,” he said with a grin. “Just make him sweat a little.”
“Sawyer!”
“Hey, his mind is on the game now. Let him worry about that for now.”
“You’re so mean,” I said, picking up his spare pillow and throwing it at him.
He snatched it up and tossed it back, but I ducked out of the way and it dropped to the floor.
“Just as well you’re not the quarterback,” I said, picking it up, “what a terrible throw.” I placed it back on his bed behind him.
“What’s going on in here?” Mom’s voice chirped from the doorway, her nose scrunching at the mess on the floor.
“Nothing. Sierra’s leaving,” Sawyer said. “She needs her beauty sleep for the big game tomorrow.”
