Chapter 29

CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE

Sawyer was halfway through the files on his coffee table when he heard the sound of a car pulling up outside. His heart jumped, his thoughts immediately going to Brynlee. Dropping everything, he rushed to the window. Keeping to the side, out of sight, he peered around the edge of the curtain.

A blue SUV sat in Brynlee’s driveway, and he watched as she slowly emerged from Mr. Layne’s car, pain hindering her movements. Mrs. Layne hovered beside her, trying to help, but Brynlee waved her off, stubborn as always. Sawyer’s lips pressed into a firm line. She shouldn’t be home so soon. She needed rest, care—things Brynlee was too proud to ask for. Damn woman was far too independent for her own good.

Even from this distance, Sawyer could see the strain on her face, the exhaustion in her posture. After what felt like several minutes, she finally made it to her front door. She paused on the front porch, fumbling with her keys. She dropped them and Mrs. Layne stooped to grab them, then passed them back to Brynlee, who opened the door and stepped inside, disappearing from view.

Sawyer watched surreptitiously as Mrs. Layne spoke with Brynlee, her face twisted into a mask of concern. Finally, resignation settled over her features and she turned away, heading back toward the vehicle. The Laynes sat in the SUV for a long moment, presumably to make sure Brynlee was okay, before driving away.

The moment their car disappeared down the street, Sawyer let the curtain drop back into place and took off toward the back door. She wouldn’t be happy to see him, especially after the things they’d said to each other. But he had some questions to ask her—and, slightly more pressing, he needed to make sure she was okay.

Before he could talk himself out of it, he was out the door, crossing the small patio that separated their duplexes. He reached her back door, hesitating for just a second before knocking. The sound echoed in the quiet evening air, and he held his breath while he waited.

Inside the soft pad of footsteps approached. They paused a few feet away, then, after what felt like forever, the door swung open. Brynlee stood in the open space, her expression a mixture of pain and annoyance. She was still as stunning as ever, even in her disheveled state, but it was the look in her eyes that made his chest tighten. She wasn’t just sore and tired—she was angry. And every ounce of that anger was directed squarely at him.

“What do you want, Sawyer?” she asked, her voice sharp.

He took a breath, trying to ignore the way his heart squeezed at her tone. “I needed to make sure you were okay.”

She rolled her eyes, leaning against the doorframe as if she didn’t trust her legs to hold her up. “I’m fine. You’ve seen that now, so you can go.”

Sawyer clenched his jaw, refusing to be dismissed so easily. “I have a few questions first.”

She glared at him, but there was something else in her eyes—something that told him she wasn’t as okay as she wanted him to believe. After a long, tense moment, she sighed, stepping aside. “Fine. Come in.”

He followed her inside, keeping a sharp eye on her as she moved deeper into the room. His senses were immediately flooded with the familiar scent of her home: lavender and vanilla, warm and inviting, yet so starkly at odds with the tension that hung between them.

Brynlee crossed her arms, wincing as the movement pulled at her sore muscles. She leaned against the counter, her posture defensive. “Make it quick, Sawyer. I’m not in the mood for this.”

"Can you tell me what happened yesterday morning?”

Brynlee glared at him. “Well, let’s see. You came over and blamed me for leaving the hose running all night—which I didn’t—we got into a fight, and then I left. So, pretty much a typical day for us.”

Tension gathered between his shoulder blades and Sawyer swallowed hard, stalling the retort that jumped to his tongue. Drawing in a deep breath, he willed himself to stay calm. “I’m sorry for that. I am,” he said at her dubious look. “I shouldn’t have blamed you—not for flooding the yard, and not for the accident. I shouldn’t have let you leave when you were angry. If you hadn’t been distracted?—”

“So it’s my fault?” Her voice rose several octaves in indignation. “Fuck you, Sawyer. Get out.”

She started to storm toward the door, but he caught her around the waist, stopping her progress. She sucked in a breath, and he immediately released her. “Shit, I’m sorry. Did I hurt you?”

“No more than usual.” Her lethal blue glare landed on him once more. “Now leave.”

He held up his hands. “I didn’t mean that the way it sounded. I?—”

“Really?” She let out a mirthless laugh. “You said I was distracted. Because, you know. It was all my fault my brakes weren’t working.”

“Listen, I don’t want to fight with you?—”

“Then don’t.”

Sawyer ground his molars together and drew in a deep breath before speaking as calmly as he could manage. “Tell me what happened. Everything you remember from the time you got into the car.”

She glared at him for several seconds as if weighing his words. Finally, she relayed her side of the story. “We were fighting—again.” she shot him a dirty look. “So, yes, I was a little distracted when I backed out of the driveway. Had I been thinking clearly, I would have noticed sooner.”

“Noticed what?” he asked softly.

“My brakes. They felt soft, like I had to push it harder to stop. But it didn’t really sink in until I got to the end of the road. I stepped on the pedal, but nothing happened. It went straight down to the floor. I remember reaching for the emergency brake, but by then...”

She trailed off, and Sawyer nodded. “You’re lucky it happened here.”

She shrugged. “It could have been worse.”

“Speaking of that…” Sawyer met her gaze, his voice gentle despite the worry gnawing at him. “When was the last time you had the brakes on your car checked?”

Her eyes narrowed. “Seriously? You really think this is the time for an interrogation?”

“I’m trying to figure out what happened, Bryn.” He softened his tone, trying to reach her. “This isn’t just about the car. It’s about you.”

She stared at him, her defenses still up, but he could see the flicker of doubt in her eyes. “I want to figure out what happened. Did anyone else drive it? Did you notice anything else strange over the past couple days?”

“No,” she snapped, her voice tinged with frustration. “And I just got the car serviced a few months ago, so you can’t blame me for not taking care of it. It was just an accident, so?—”

“It wasn’t an accident.”

She paused her tirade and blinked at him. “What?”

Sawyer met her gaze, his expression serious. "Bryn, I had Mike over at Geiser’s Garage take a look at the car. Your brake lines didn’t fail—they were deliberately cut.”

Brynlee's eyes widened in shock and fear. “They were… cut?”

He nodded slowly, and her face paled further. “Oh my God.”

He took her arm and led her to the couch, settling her in the corner before taking the seat next to her. “Do you have any idea who might be responsible?"

She wrapped her arms around her waist and shook her head emphatically. “N-no. I don’t… I don’t know.”

"Think hard," Sawyer urged gently. "Anyone who might hold a grudge, anyone you've had issues with recently."

She glanced up at him, worry in her eyes. “Just you.”

Irritation flickered through him, but he managed to suppress it. “I can assure you, it wasn’t me. Seeing you like that took ten years off my life.”

She stared up at him for a long moment, confusion tugging at the space between her brows. “What does that mean?”

He blew out a measured breath. “I know we fight sometimes, but trust me when I say this—I don’t ever want to see you hurt.”

She nodded and bit her lip, seemingly deep in thought. “I mean… There’s Jessica, but… you don’t think she could do something like this, do you?”

“I stopped by the salon and spoke with Melanie today. She doesn’t think Jessica could have caused the flooding in the salon. But…” He paused for a second. “We did find something strange under the car.”

Her brows pulled together as she peered at him, and he elaborated. “There was a single, long dark hair.” He held his hands up about a foot apart. “Do you know anyone who has dark hair like that?”

“Someone who would do this?” She shook head. “No, I can’t think of anyone. Jessica has brown hair, but last time I saw her the ends were dyed purple. You would definitely notice that.”

He nodded his agreement. “I need you to think it over, Bryn. The salon, the accident—it’s too much to be a coincidence.”

For a moment, she just stared at him. Then, she shook her head, her voice low. “I can handle myself, Sawyer. I don’t need you to protect me.”

He brushed a stray lock of hair from her cheek. “I know you can. But you don’t have to do it alone.”

They sat there in silence, the weight of his words hanging between them. Brynlee looked away first, directing her gaze to the far wall, and he knew he’d pushed as far as she’d let him. Aggravation pooled in his gut, but he forced it down as he stood. “Just be careful,” he said softly. “Please.”

Turning, he headed for the door, pausing only long enough to add, “If you need anything, call me. Anytime.”

Then he left, the door closing behind him with a quiet click. As he made his way back to his own side of the duplex, the worry gnawing at him didn’t ease. Brynlee was stubborn, but he knew she was scared—more than she’d ever admit.

And that worried him more than anything else.