The Fundamental Theory of Us (18 page)

“Good. Definitely good.”

Over his shoulder, Sawyer spotted Josh and Andrew filled her in on the circumstances. She suggested he stay at her place.

“At least I have a TV. It’s old, but still. Plus, you’d have somewhere to sleep, other than the couch,” she pointed out.

“I’m cool with it,” Josh said. “As long as you don’t mind me in your space.”

“You’re Andrew’s friend. Of course I don’t mind.”

Like he needed a reason to love her more than he already did.

Chapter Thirty

If Rachel’s grip got any tighter, Sawyer was going to need stitches on her left bicep.

Beside her, Andrew sat smiling in the darkened theater, his hand resting on her thigh. On the other side of him sat Emory. Sawyer still couldn’t believe he invited her. Seriously? Couldn’t he tell the girl had her claws stuck in him and wasn’t letting go? Well, Sawyer didn’t feel like giving Andrew up, so Emory could go hump a camel. Or goat. Whatever.

At least TaylorandLogan were there, too, sitting one row back. They were joining her and Andrew for dinner once the show finished.

The lights in the theater brightened a few notches, signaling the end of a performance. All around her, people clapped, and she joined in. If someone asked her to name something she liked about that performance, she’d be screwed. Was it the weird dancers in watercolor bodysuits flinging ribbons around, or the armadillo and the iguana? She couldn’t say.

Rachel leaned in, her breath hot on Sawyer’s ear. “Lola’s next.”

Sawyer nodded and tried loosening Rachel’s claws from her arm with no luck. The announcer stepped on stage, a willowy woman with milk-white hair and graceful movements, and approached the mic, telling the audience what Rachel had just said. On her right, Andrew leaned across Sawyer and gave Rachel a thumbs up. Rachel beamed, then gave the stage her full attention. She held her phone up to record Lola’s solo dance.

The lights dimmed once more. Wisps of smoke unfurled across the stage as the strains of a haunting melody filled the air. A shadow flitted through the smoke, spreading it into the front row of the crowd. The smoke swirled with the shadow, dissipating, until Lola broke free in some kind of crazy jump, landing on her knees at the edge of the stage. The music paused. Sawyer leaned forward in her seat.

Then Lola stood. The music resumed. Sawyer couldn’t look away. Lola swept across the stage in long, smooth arcs and bends and leaps. Rachel’s nails dug in deeper before she relaxed and let out a hiss of air. Sawyer totally got it. Watching the recorded version of Lola’s last dance on a small screen didn’t compare to this. Lola was incredible.

At the end of the song, Lola crumpled at the corner of the stage in a shadow, and the crowd erupted. Sawyer clapped until her hands were raw, and wondered how Lola hadn’t gotten into Julliard with those skills. Or if she even applied. If not, she should have.

“Ohmigod, wasn’t she amazing?” Rachel jumped up and down like a high school cheerleader on crack.

Sawyer agreed, and Andrew reached across her to squeeze Rachel’s shoulder. Emory shot a glare over his shoulder, and Sawyer ignored it. Some people went after what was never theirs to begin with. Some people couldn’t understand that love happens—people don’t choose who they fall in love with, they’re just struck by it, and dealt with everything left in its wake when they opened their eyes and accepted it.

When the last performance ended and the lights came on, Andrew took Sawyer’s arm and led her through the doors. TaylorandLogan were on their heels. Unfortunately, so was Emory. Rachel vanished in search of Lola, so Sawyer had to fend off the perky tag-along on her own.

In the lobby, Taylor looped her arm through Sawyer’s and talked about the show. She hadn’t seen anything like it, she said. In Sawyer’s past life, she went to so many shows, she couldn’t name them all.

Taylor paused, holding them back a few steps from Andrew and Logan. She turned to Sawyer with wide eyes. “So, you and Andrew, huh?”

A prickly blush stung her cheeks as Sawyer nodded. She hated when people asked a question and tacked “huh” on the end. They obviously thought the answer was yes, so why ask? Taylor seemed nice enough, from the handful of times they met.

“He’s such a great guy.” Taylor leaned in closer. “We didn’t even know about his leg until he showed us. The guy’s like, Iron Man or something.”

Sawyer smiled in agreement. She wasn’t sure how much Andrew would like people talking about his prosthesis, even if they were accepting of it. “He says you guys did well on your marathon and signed up for another one?”

“Yeah! We’re aiming for a lower time before we try for the actual Tough Mudder, but that’s our ultimate goal. Our dream though, is to run every continent, except Antarctica, because it’s so cold.”

Looking at Taylor in her Vera Wang dress, shiny, platinum-blonde hair swept up in a complicated design, and the diamonds sparkling at her ears and on her fingers, Sawyer would never peg her for a marathon junkie. Then again, she never thought she’d enjoy it either. Her gaze drifted to Andrew and she smiled. Since letting him into her life, she changed, for the better.

Taylor tugged Sawyer toward the guys and they heard Logan saying, “If you get to the restaurant before us, just give them my name.”

Emory bounced up to Andrew and tried locking her arm with his. Andrew sidestepped her and reached for Sawyer, taking her hand in his and ducking his head to press a soft kiss on her mouth. That simple move made her heart sing.

“Hungry?” he whispered.

“Very.”

“Then we better get going.”

“Going where?” Emory shoved her way between them.

A hundred feral cats bared their claws from inside Sawyer’s stomach. She almost hissed along with them.

Andrew held her away from him. “Emory, desperation doesn’t suit you. I’m sure you can find a single and interested guy. It shouldn’t be that difficult.”

Emory seethed. Andrew didn’t stick around for her response. Taking Sawyer’s hand, he led her outside, through the parking lot, and to his truck. When he reached for the door handle, she pushed him against the passenger door and kissed him hard, erasing Emory. He trailed his lips down her neck and Sawyer relaxed in his arms.

“We should get going, otherwise I’ll take you straight back to my place.”

“That doesn’t sound like a bad idea.” She wiggled her brows.

He laughed, kissing her forehead. “No, but we can’t leave Logan and Taylor hanging.” He helped her into his truck. “Besides, we have the whole night for that.”

An hour into dinner, Andrew’s phone rang. Sawyer glanced at her phone for the time. Quarter to ten. Lately, his phone rang several times in an hour with
unknown caller
on the screen, and it was getting ridiculous. She understood how he must have felt when she received those texts from Chase.

Andrew stepped away from the table, patting Sawyer on the shoulder as he passed her for the restaurant’s entrance. TaylorandLogan looked to her for an answer to their unspoken question. Sawyer just shrugged and turned her attention to the remains of her dinner. She didn’t know who was calling Andrew any more than he did. In the back of her mind, she considered his ex. She’d come around twice, wanting him back. Thinking she’d get her hands on his disability check or whatever it was. Sawyer never asked because she never wanted his money, no matter how much—or little—he had. She only wanted Andrew.

Sawyer set her fork down and drew TaylorandLogan into a conversation about their training. From there, somehow the talk turned to the holidays.

Taylor said, “Do you think we’re crazy for wanting to go somewhere tropical for Christmas?”

“Not really. We used to go to St. Bart’s for Christmas and come home for New Year’s Eve.” She held back a cringe at how she sounded. Like her mother.

Logan nodded. “I still can’t believe you’re a Layne. It’s crazy. It’s like sitting down with American Royalty or something.”

Taylor slapped his arm. “That was really insensitive!” She turned to Sawyer. “I’m sorry, he has no filter.”

Sawyer smiled. “It’s fine, really. At least my dad is nothing like his parents.”

“That’s true,” Taylor agreed. “I said to Logan, a few months ago, when your dad cut the ribbon on the chain of women’s clinics across the country, your dad was probably the richest feminist in America.”

She had to laugh at that. “It’s true. When I was younger and he brought up the idea for the clinics, my mother couldn’t believe he’d throw away so much money on a bunch of women he’d never met. She threatened to sue him, so he continued the project on the sly.” Sawyer hadn’t been around to see the culmination of his plans.

Andrew arrived back at the table, but he didn’t take his seat next to Sawyer. His face was white and his hands were shaking. “We have to go, guys.” He dropped a handful of bills on the table. “That should cover ours. Let me know if I owe you more.”

Logan stood. His napkin fell to the floor. “What happened?”

Sawyer jumped to her feet, her hand finding Andrew’s. That phone call shook him in a way she hadn’t seen before. Usually, he was strong and collected. The way he looked right now, a strong wind might blow him away.

Andrew didn’t answer—he pulled Sawyer slowly to the exit, his grip on her hand tight, like he was afraid she’d run. Sawyer clasped his hand, letting him know she wasn’t going anywhere. No matter what happened.

He didn’t speak until they neared their apartment building parking lot, and flashing lights came into view. Police cars. An ambulance. Cold fear slithered down her spine. A steel band squeezed her chest, making it difficult to breathe. What the hell happened? Why wasn’t the ambulance rushing off with whoever was inside? Oh God, was somebody
dead
?

Sawyer gasped in a few breaths and tried to keep her shit together. It felt like she was watching the scene outside of herself, through someone else’s eyes. Andrew seemed too shaken up to notice her reaction, giving her a chance to calm down before he saw her and had another thing to worry about.

He swallowed as he pulled up to the cordoned-off parking lot, greeting an officer with his ID. The officer let them through after telling Andrew where to park. When he pulled his truck into the spot and shut off the ignition, Andrew remained statue still in his seat, his hands locked on the wheel in a white-knuckled grip.

She unbuckled her seatbelt and slid over to him, resting her hand on his arm. The muscles tensed at her touch, and for a moment, the old fear crept up inside her. She didn’t shrink away. “Andrew, what happened?”

He opened his mouth, the sound almost echoing in the silence. “Someone was … killed.”

Her stomach wrenched. She didn’t know anyone in the building except for Andrew. They were mostly students, with a few older adults mixed in. “Do they know who it was?”

Andrew turned and crushed her to his chest, squeezing all the air from her lungs. “Yeah. They know.”

Her thoughts immediately flew to Josh. “Was it someone we know?”

She felt him nod, and then he said, “Yeah.”

A sob broke in her throat. “Oh, Andrew. I’m so sorry.”

He pulled away, staring at her like she grew a second head. “What do you mean?”

Confusion knotted her brow. “I thought … Josh?”

“No. It—” He shut his eyes. “Let’s go talk to the officer who called me, okay? It’ll make more sense coming from them.”

Sawyer followed Andrew from his truck, feeling wooden. His hand clutching hers reminded her she wasn’t alone, no matter what happened. As for that, her imagination ran wild with different variations of what
might
have happened while they were out. Rachel and Lola hadn’t shown up at Sawyer’s place and got caught in the middle of a … robbery/alien invasion/who the hell knew what … had they? Her stomach twisted and soured a little more with each step she took toward the building, where a few officers milled around outside the main entrance.

When they reached the group, Andrew gave his name and showed his ID. “I spoke to Detective Morrow on the phone.”

“That’s me.” A stocky man with thick, black hair that shone in the lights stepped to the front of the group and offered Andrew his hand. Then he turned to Sawyer. “Miss Layne?”

She nodded blankly.

“Do you know a Chase Winchester?”

Her eyes froze in their sockets. Her entire body turned to ice.

“Uh, yes,” Andrew answered for her. “She does.”

Detective Morrow glanced between them. “What is his relation to Miss Layne?”

What had Chase done? Why was the detective asking about him? Sawyer’s thoughts spun in circles, and it was enough to help find her voice. “He’s my brother-in-law.” The words were hollow. “My sister’s husband. From New York.”

Andrew squeezed her hand again. She leaned into him, soaking up his strength.

The detective continued, “Is there any reason you can think of to explain his presence in Boone? A business trip, perhaps?”

Sawyer shook her head, blinking away more confusion. “Chase is here?”

Detective Morrow angled his head and narrowed his eyes slightly. “Please answer the question, Miss Layne.”

“Um, no. He doesn’t really work. He lives off his parents’ money.”

“There’s no reason he should be here, unless Sawyer’s sister’s health took a turn for the worse.” Andrew explained Thanksgiving, and the rushed trip to New York when Sawyer learned Alannah had cancer. “But Sawyer’s dad would have contacted us. Chase had no reason to visit Boone.”

The detective nodded. Once they donned blue shower caps on their feet, he ushered them into the building. They reached the top floor and the detective paused at the fire door. “We identified a man who broke into apartment three-oh-eight as Chase Winchester.”