Page 32 of Knotting Autumn

I flinched like I’d been slapped, the unfairness of it making me sick, followed by a rush of anger at Thorne. But there was no arguing with Margie. Exhaling, I resigned myself to this punishment.

“I understand. Do you want me to finish my shift?”

Margie patted my hand. “No, I’ll be fine. Go ahead and head home.”

My eyes stung, but I refused to cry in front of her. Gritting my teeth, I grabbed my purse.

“Do you want to call Sawyer to walk you home?” Margie suggested.

“No. It’s so close, don’t worry about it.”

It was a stupid choice, but I didn’t want to cry in front of Sawyer either. I’d have to take the risk.

Waving over my shoulder, I headed out the back door and jogged along the alley. After passing three more shop buildings, I moved to the sidewalk.

Tears dripped down my face, and I sniffled, wiping them away. This was too much. My world had shifted, and now my job, which I loved, was being taken away. Hopefully after two weeks they’d let me come back.

Even the prospect of going home to Sawyer wasn’t enough to curb my emotions, but I knew once I reached him, he could wrap me up in his arms and everything would be okay.

Chapter 12

Pizza and Psychics

Drying my tears, I approached our apartment. Voices sounded inside, and I frowned. It wasn’t like Sawyer to listen to television that loud, and no one ever visited us.

So what was going on?

The door made a soft scraping noise as it swung open, and the voices silenced. Intuition prickled over my skin—a mix of warning and anticipation.

Sawyer stood in the living room, his arms crossed. Cole stood about five feet from him, mirroring his pose. And slouched on the couch was Thorne, his tan skin looking unusually pale.

The room felt tiny with all three men taking up so much space.

Bristling, I stormed forward. Thorne straightened, his face brightening. Baring my teeth, I raised my hand and slapped him across the face as hard as I could. His head snapped to the side, and he fell back into the cushion.

“Woah!” Cole yelled. He reached for me, but Sawyer snarled at him and tugged me against his chest, wrapping his arms around my shoulders possessively. Cole jerked back like he’d been struck too.

“What the fuck is the matter with you?” Cole demanded, his eyes blazing.

“He came to my work and scared the shit out of me, tried to drag me out, and then trashed the front of the store!” I spat.

Thorne straightened, pressing a hand to his cheek. A bright red handprint peeked out from between his fingers, looking all the darker as the rest of his face paled.

“You’ve got to be kidding me,” Cole drawled, throwing his hand up as he turned away. “You want to explain, Thorne, or should I?”

I took in Thorne’s disheveled appearance. He wore a loose black shirt over baggy jeans, and his mahogany hair was rumpled and messy. There was no sign of the leather pants or a douchey performance shirt.

So he raced here and changed clothes and rinsed the product from his hair? That didn’t make sense.

“What’s going on?” I asked, looking between the two men.

Cole cleared his throat and looked to Thorne.

He was rubbing at his cheek, one eye scrunched closed. “That wasn’t me.”

My hands found their way to Sawyer’s shirt, and I twisted the fabric between my fingers, the anxiety rising in my chest until I felt sick.

“That brother I told you about? He’s my identical twin,” Thorne said.