Depends On Who's Asking (SWAT Generation 2.0 12)

And he didn’t want me.

I sniffled and wiped my eyes with the corner of my sweatshirt.

A sweatshirt that I’d inadvertently stolen from Saint before he’d taken off to go home.

I was honestly glad that I’d accidentally grabbed it instead of mine.

I’d never give it back, and more than likely, it would be the only thing that I had left of him to remember him by.

I wiped my eyes and tried to will myself to get it under control and had only half succeeded when there was a knock at the door. I turned and looked at it with horror.

“Who is it?” I called out.

There was a long pause and then, “It’s Sierra.”

I frowned as I got up, my feet all but shuffling on the shag carpeting as I made my way to the door.

I swung the door open and frowned hard. “Yes?”

Sierra’s lips twitched. “I know by now you’ve figured out that I was with Saint today.”

I had.

That was partially why I was mad at her. She knew something and had refused to tell me what it was.

Then Saint had called and broken the news that he didn’t think we should be friends any longer, and now I was pissed because Sierra was my friend. Not Saint’s.

“I just wanted to come over here and tell you that nothing is as it seems,” she said. “Something more is going on. He came over frantic today, wanting to borrow a phone. I let him, and he disappeared back to his truck. Something bad happened, Caro. Something really bad. And I think that he’s suffering all alone right now. I don’t want you to give up on him. Saint’s a good guy.”

I frowned hard at that.

“That’s why he called me from your phone?” I wondered.

She nodded.

“I think so. Yes,” she said. “At least, that’s what I’m assuming. He kind of took off with my phone and I didn’t see him for hours. When I finally got it back, he looked like he’d been run over by a freight train. Before I left to go home with Malachi for the night, I saw him loading up his truck with a bag and leaving.”

Now I was even more curious.

But, saying that, if Saint wanted me to know, he’d tell me.

At least, that was what I kept telling myself.

But long minutes after Sierra left, I was second-guessing myself.

Had I made the right decision? Should I have gone and checked on him?

It was true what Sierra said. He’d sounded haggard on the phone.

What had happened to cause the abrupt change in attitude?

I was so focused on trying to distinguish truth from falsehood that I hadn’t even realized I never returned to my earlier seat until I was interrupted. Again.

There was another knock on the door, and this time I almost slammed it in the man’s face.

“Hello.” He smiled. “I’m here to help you get this tree in here?”

I looked at the tree and almost told him to shove it up his ass.

Instead, I opened my door wide. “Of course, come on in.”

I mean, I didn’t have a tree. And it definitely didn’t make sense to get one now.

So what if that tree held some memories I’d rather not think about?

It was still a beautiful tree.

“You were part of the CDC people that we were with this week?” I asked conversationally as I tried to hide my discomfort.

The man nodded his head, his eyes a little tight as he said, “I am. We’re cleaning out all of the rooms. But I was told that this tree needed to go to your place.”

I scratched the side of my face with my long fingernails, even more uncomfortable when he pushed all the way inside my house and looked around.

I stepped off to the side of the entrance and pointed at the spot.

“If you just want to drag it in here…” I stopped when I saw him come in with the tree.

They’d plastic wrapped it so that everything stayed in place while they’d transported it.

Within seconds he had the tree standing up where I wanted it, and he was taking off the plastic wrap.

“You don’t have to do that,” I said. “Saint’s on the way over. I’ll get him to help me when he gets here in a few minutes.”

I wasn’t sure what made me say that, but I could’ve sworn that I saw the man get a squinty-eyed look before he nodded his head.

“In that case, I’ll leave you to it,” the man forced out a grin. “If you can think of anything you need besides what I brought you—the rest is on your front porch by the way—you can call me. My number is right there on the top of those boxes.”

I watched him go and knew that the man hadn’t liked either A, me or B, the mention of Saint.