Chapter 28 Sawyer
Chapter twenty-eight
Sawyer
“Who did you sit with at the game?” Tytus asks, focus fixed on the road.
He insisted on driving to dinner with the reps from the Galaxy. I insisted I didn’t feel like talking.
Yet here we are, with Ty once again bulldozing my desires and taking what he wants.
I’m disgusted with myself on so many levels. I’m also deeply frustrated by his ridiculous show of machismo when Mercer called me out of class this week.
Since then, I’ve avoided Tytus as much as possible.
Which, I admit, hasn’t been all that effective. Every night, when he shows up at my dorm, I meekly tell him to leave, yet he never does.
“Sawyer.”
“What?” I snap back.
“Answer my question,” he grumbles as he brings the car to a stop at a red light.
Ignoring the demand, I study the scene out my window. It’s still light, but thick storm clouds have rolled in and cast everything in shadow.
Raindrops quietly strike the window. Not enough to be considered a steady rain, but enough to blur the trees along the side of the road.
I’m watching a single bead of water cut a path down my window when Ty brushes my knee. He squeezes once, his fingers digging in. When the light turns green and he accelerates, his grip only gets more firm.
“Who did you fucking sit with?” he seethes.
I shift my legs, trying to escape his hold, but the move only makes him clamp down harder.
It’s not enough to hurt. But it is enough to spark my awareness. And arousal.
“I’m surprised you don’t already know,” I quip as I press my thighs together.
He yanks them apart, resituating his hold on my thigh.
The perpetual push and pull leaves me feeling heady. I refuse to sink into his touch, despite my body’s traitorous desire to do so. I don’t want to give in to him so easily right now.
“Are you going to test me all night?” he grits out. “This dinner is important, petit diable. I can’t fucking slip in front of these people.”
My chest spasms. Despite all my pent-up anger over this ludicrous situation, I would never sabotage this night for him.
“I know,” I assure him quietly.
I’m angry. Frustrated. Honestly I’m sick to my stomach over the situation with Mercer, and by extension, Noah, but I would never do anything to purposely ruin this night for him.
So much of what’s transpired between us over the last few weeks has been draped in artificial conflict. I’ve lost myself in the thrill of pushing back and blurring the lines.
We need to have a real conversation this weekend, and I need to set boundaries regarding what can and cannot happen moving forward.
The briefest of hopes flashed through me a few nights ago. Ty was asleep, breathing steadily beside me. Noah was texting me good night, and my mind was fixated on Mercer.
I thought that maybe, despite the impossibility of the dynamic, there was a way for all of us to co-exist.
Maybe I wouldn’t have to choose.
Maybe I could have everything—or in this case, everyone—I wanted, without anyone getting hurt in the process.
But then Tytus pulled that stunt when Mercer called me out of class, and all glimmers of hope were snuffed out.
If he’s going to make me choose, he’s the one who’s going to lose.
But none of that will be resolved tonight. Tonight, Ty needs to be level-headed and focused. And I want to support him through this dinner.
Tomorrow night, I’ll lay it all out and give him an ultimatum. This dynamic has got to stop. If he’s going to force me away from Mercer and Noah, he’s going to lose me in the process.
But I can play along and pretend for one more night.
Relenting, I exhale and relax my legs. “I sat with Cam, Kai, and Skylar in the student section at the game.”
“Good girl,” he murmurs, his tone laced with relief, as he curves his fingers around my inner thigh.
In response, my muscles ease, and when he shifts his hold a fraction, his fingers stroking a little higher, a shiver courses through me.
I close my eyes and breathe deeply.
I just have to get through this dinner. Get through this night. Ty knows I’ll want to hole up in the library tomorrow like I do every Sunday, so he shouldn’t suspect a thing.
He will no doubt sleep in my room tonight, meaning I’ll have to sneak out early. I’ll head to the library, then ask Mercer and Noah if we can meet up for lunch.
With any luck, they won’t be too angry with me. I’ll apologize and explain as much as I can about my history with Ty.
Once they know the truth, or as much of it as I can safely offer, we can move on from the mess I’ve made over the last few weeks.
It’s not a perfect plan. There’s no guarantee that Mercer and Noah will want to be with me after what I’ve been up to. But I’ll lead with the truth, and I’ll do my best to make amends for the hurt I’ve caused.
Once we’re parked and he’s unbuckled his seat belt, Tytus twists in his seat.
Like beacons programmed to find each other, our gazes lock. We sit in silence, the connection between us enough, as rain pitter-patters on the roof of the car.
Obsidian eyes bore into me, looking for strength and assurance I don’t feel equipped to offer. Every inch of him is so familiar and intimate. So special to me.
My heart cracks as I study him. Because I think our inevitable end is near, and I know what’s likely to happen next will hurt him.
Ty’s pain has always been my pain. His heartache has always been mine, too. And maybe mine belongs to him as well. Life slapped us both around and ensured we’re too banged up to ever be whole again.
The connection we share should have been galvanized over the years. It should have been reinforced with love. Instead, our foundation was built on trauma.
We’re too broken, he and I.
We were ruined years ago. And every time we could have or should have worked on ourselves, we didn’t. We couldn’t. We were too wrapped up in surviving, in distracting ourselves, in just getting through each day, to put in the work necessary to heal.
Neither of us possesses enough of who we used to be to hold the other up the way they deserve to be held.
Tytus can’t be my forever.
I owe it to myself—and to the two men I also care deeply about—to stop this reckless runaway train before it goes completely off track.
But I can let him pretend this is our reality for a little longer if it helps him get through this night.
“Don’t be nervous,” I say. “You’re going to be great.”
He brushes the hair off his forehead. “I didn’t say I was nervous.”
Inching closer, I grasp his hand and give it a quick squeeze before retreating. “You didn’t have to. This is a lot, but you’re going to get through it. I’m here. We’re okay.” My voice cracks on the last two words. It’s not an outright lie, but it’s far from the truth.
Tentatively, he recaptures my hand. I don’t pull away. He smooths his thumb over my knuckles, once, twice, a third time. “You’ll be with me? The whole time?”
I press my lips together, memorizing the way my hand looks in his as he cradles it so tenderly. When I lift my gaze, I find worried, waiting eyes staring back at me.
“I’ll be by your side all night,” I promise.
Right now, that’s all I’m willing and able to give.