Chapter 30 Sawyer
Chapter thirty
Sawyer
One step.
Then another.
It’s all I can focus on: my footfalls slapping against the wet pavement, carrying me further away from the nightmare that just transpired.
It’s all I can do to keep from spiraling as we make our way to the car.
It’s raining harder now.
I don’t feel a thing.
A few feet from the vehicle, I take a deep breath and turn to Tytus. “Give me the keys.”
His eyebrows shoot up into his hairline. “What?”
“Give me the keys,” I repeat.
He shakes his head and spins the key ring around his finger. “I didn’t drink. I’m fine to—”
“Well I’m not fine,” I explode, getting right up in his face. “Nothing about this is fine. We’re the opposite of fucking fine right now, Tytus. Give me the fucking keys to my fucking car and get fucked.”
He blinks, and when he opens his eyes again, the darkness sets in, his pupils dilating, his chest expanding, then locking up, as if he’s holding his breath.
For the first time ever, I don’t give a flying fuck about his emotions, about where his head’s at. He can’t get out of this by going dark on me. I’m done. This ends right here, right now.
In one quick move, I snatch the keys out of his hand. Then I retreat, putting several feet between us, and cross my arms over my chest, breathing deeply to settle my heart rate. Silent tears stream down my cheeks, but I don’t even bother to wipe them away as they mix with the steady rain.
“What you did in there? What you committed me to? This isn’t a fucking game. Not anymore.”
He stares, unblinking.
Is he even listening? Anymore, I don’t care. Tiptoeing around Ty’s darkness when we share so much of the same fucking trauma is an exhausting act of self-harm.
“I went along with all this because I thought you’d cool down,” I grit out. “I thought you’d see reason. That we could work past this. But you’ve taken it way too fucking far. You’re delusional, and now you’re spreading that delusion as if it’s reality.”
Ty licks his lips, then laughs. The sound is low and sinister, laced with the promise of opposition and resistance. “I’m delusional?”
He takes a step forward and swipes the car keys back from my hand.
I take a step back, only to bump into my soaking-wet car.
“I’m not the one lying to myself. I’m not the one pretending that our connection means nothing.
” He bares his teeth, his face inches from mine.
“I’m not the one chasing people twice my age instead of fucking waiting like I promised.
And I’m not the one who was grinding and writhing and begging for cock.
That was all you, Sawyer. All. Fucking. You. ”
My heart lurches into my throat. “Because you made me.”
Ty smirks. “No, petit diable. I’ve never made you do a damn thing.
If anything, I’ve shown an incredible amount of restraint.
You make the final call. I defer to you, over and over, even in the heat of the moment.
And if that’s what you tell yourself to feel better, I’ll play the part.
I’ll be your villain. But that’s your delusion to come to terms with, Sawyer. Not mine.”
Fury and frustration flood me, my neck and cheeks heating with embarrassment.
He looms over me, his lips at my ear.
“You put my fingers inside your body. You dropped to your knees and asked to taste my cock. And eventually, you’re gonna beg me to fuck you.”
With a will of its own, my open hand makes contact with his face, the sharp crack startling.
“I hate you—” My words are cut off by a sob.
Eyes narrowing, he nods. “I hate me, too. Doesn’t change what we have. Or what we are to each other now.”
He’s delusional.
Utterly, completely, irrationally delusional.
And I’m delirious. Exhausted and overwhelmed and so fucking done.
“We’re nothing,” I scream, shoving against his chest. “We’re not married.”
Eyes bulging, he cups my mouth. “Shh!”
“No.” I duck to one side and swat him away. “Go back in there right now and tell them the truth. Go back in there and tell them, Ty.”
He guffaws, like I’m the crazy one. “And have them think I’m a liar? No fucking way. There’s no reasonable explanation.”
He’s right. There’s not.
Lips pressed together, I shrug. “I don’t care what they think. You took this too far. I can’t keep playing this game. I can’t keep pretending. I’m not doing this with you. Not anymore.”
His jaw ticks, agitation making his posture rigid. “Look. I shouldn’t have said that in there. You’re right. But it’s not that bad. I’ll just have to be careful when they’re around—”
“Which could be all the time. What happens when you officially join the team? What will you do then? Tell them we got divorced?”
“Absolutely not.”
I throw my hands out. “They’re going to wonder where I am. You have to tell them something.”
Tytus’s face goes stony. He’s soaking wet, just like me, with rain rolling off the pieces of hair stuck to his forehead.
“They won’t have to wonder,” he hedges. “Because you’ll be there.”
My instinct is to run. To scream. To throw my purse. Turn around and slam a fist into my car. To get away. Far, far away from him.
Instead, hopelessness drapes over me, taking root, pinning me to the spot. The fight drains out of me like it has so many times over the last few weeks. Beaten down by his insistence. Pacified by the voice in my head that was certain he’d come around.
I hold out my hand, palm up. It’s raining hard enough now that the individual drops are indistinguishable, the lines blurred. It’s impossible to know where one ends and the next begins.
“Give me the fucking keys.”
He shakes his head. “You’re not okay to drive. I’ll get us home safely.”
“The safest place for me right now is away from you,” I seethe.
He stands his ground, shaking his goddamn head.
I pull out my ace and send up a silent prayer it’ll be enough.
“Give me the keys Tytus, or I’m calling Atty.
I’ll tell him everything. And I mean everything.
The video you made without my consent. The distribution of the video, and the way you’re using it against me.
The lies to the dean. Your delusional insistence that we’re married.
” I lift my chin. “Should I keep going? Or better yet, should I cut to the chase and call?”
A muscle in his jaw jumps. “Why?”
“Why?” I laugh humorlessly. “Why what?”
Ty’s brow furrows, his bewilderment clear. “Why now? Why the hell would you bring up Atty or threaten what we have now?”
Numbness washes over me. With every raindrop, I feel less in control. Less mentally present. Less sane and even less alive.
Despondently, I shake my head.
He doesn’t get it. He’s never going to see reason where I’m concerned.
I swallow, steeling myself, then tip my head back to meet his gaze. “Because you’re out of control. I don’t know how to get through to you or what to say to make you understand. I need to get away from you, Tytus. Right fucking now.”
He stares me down as the seconds tick by.
Eventually, he huffs, shakes his head, and grasps my hand. When he drops the keys into my palm, my body sags in relief.
“This isn’t over,” he whispers. “I’ll see you at home.”
Home.
A place. One that no longer exists. It isn’t real or safe, and it hasn’t been for a very long time.
Home.
A feeling. One I’m always running from, because it jeopardizes my carefully crafted coping skills.
Home.
A person. No, two people. Warmth and kindness, wit and competence. Two people who want me. Who cherish me. Who would never make me feel this way.