Chapter 35 Sawyer
Chapter thirty-five
Sawyer
Noah holds me close as he passes over the threshold and kicks off his boots.
Mercer’s voice floats down the hall.
Noah replies, their exchange far-off.
I’m soaked. Hollow. It’d be easier on all of us if I faded away completely.
But I’m here.
Noah came after me.
He found me in the dark, and he brought me home.
As much as I don’t want to face the fallout of my actions, there’s nowhere else I want to be.
I open my eyes, only to discover crimson paths trailing down my arm. A whimper escapes me.
Noah cups my face. “Shh. You’re okay, honey. Don’t look at the blood. Rest your head against my chest and focus on my breathing.”
I do as I’m told, pressing my ear to his soaked shirt.
He’s so solid and steady, his heartbeat a metronome of calm that grounds me and lulls my fragmented thoughts into a sense of harmony.
“Thank you for coming after me,” I murmur.
He peers down at me, intense concern marring his expression. “You don’t have to thank me.”
The kindness radiating off him is far more generous than I deserve.
A choked sob catches in my throat, my emotions rushing to the surface, trying to tear free. I bury my face in his shirt, hiding my visceral reaction.
“She’s trembling.”
Mercer.
I keep my face buried. I can’t look at him. The shame weighing me down is far too heavy.
“Why is she trembling? Why is she bleeding?” His voice is closer now.
A warm hand encircles my arm. Lifts it. The touch is soft and caring. The gentleness only makes me feel even shittier about this entire ordeal.
“It’s self-inflicted.”
Mercer sucks in a harsh breath.
“No. Shit. Not like that,” Noah soothes. “I meant no one hurt her. She got caught in the pricker patch. They’re mostly surface wounds. I need to inspect one closer, but I’ll get her cleaned up.”
The entryway is silent. Tense. The men looming above me are undoubtedly having a wordless argument. Noah’s grip tightens on me and the energy shifts, making it harder to breathe. My curiosity is piqued, though not enough to tempt me to open my eyes and get a read on them.
“Take her upstairs to the main bathroom,” Mercer instructs. “I have three more reports to finish, then I’ll be up. I’ll let Shiloh out once more, lock the house, and set the alarms.”
Noah adjusts, securing his hold. “Hang on, honey.”
I do as I’m told, wrapping my arms around him a little tighter.
As we hit the top landing, I finally sneak another glance at Noah.
He pauses, his eyes flitting to mine, that crease between his eyebrows deeper than I’ve ever seen it.
“He’s so mad,” I hedge, my voice reedy and pathetically weak.
Noah grimaces. “He is.”
I sniffle back my embarrassment and self-pity. I try to, at least. I did this. All this pain is my fault. I don’t deserve comfort or softness or care.
“I’ve made such a mess.”
“It’s a mess,” he admits, offering me a soft smile. “But it’s nothing that can’t be cleaned up.”
The kindness in his gaze makes my chest pang. It’s too much.
“Will you be okay if I set you down?”
Oh god. In the depth of my pity party for one, I’ve forgotten that he’s still holding all my weight.
Effortlessly.
Despite how little I deserve to be held.
“Yes, sorry.” I shimmy, working to free myself.
He only holds me tighter. Closer. Then he gently walks over to the tub and sets me on the edge.
Kneeling, he homes in on me, every line on his face etched in concern. He shifts, his joints popping, and lets out a groan.
I can’t help but smirk. Tucking wet strands of hair behind my ears, I peek up, finding his soulful gray-blue eyes.
“Don’t you dare try to make an age joke right now,” he warns, his lips twitching. “Your knees are going to creak and crack just like this one day.”
I bite my lip, tamping down my smile.
With a hand cupping my jaw, he uses his thumb to pull my lip out from between my teeth. “Just so we’re clear, I fully intend to be around to hear it.”
Emotion swells in my chest, the heaviness of his promise weighing down the levity we just found.
His touch lingers, that thumb now brushing my cheek.
I wet my lips and hold my breath.
He leans in and—
“Take those off. Both of you.”
Mercer storms into the bathroom, yanking his shirt over his head.
He works his belt buckle next, glaring at me with so much contempt I can feel his anger in my bones.
“Do as I say. You’re soaking wet and freezing,” he commands. “You need to warm up. The quickest way is to get in the shower.”
With a grunt, Noah stands, conceding.
He strips off his flannel and drops it to the floor with a wet slap.
I sit on the edge of the tub, frozen.
I can’t—
I shouldn’t—
Mercer steps out of his pants, then stands tall, his hands on his hips, in nothing but a pair of burgundy boxer briefs.
I’m frozen, hyper focused on the tattoos on his thighs, desperate to disassociate. Anything to avoid having to actually face him.
He stalks closer, only stopping when he’s two feet in front of me.
Breath held, I tip my head back.
Hard obsidian eyes hold mine, full of disapproval and anger.
I don’t blame him for being furious with me.
I deserve his ire.
He bends at the waist and grasps the hem of my shirt.
“Wait.” I grip his wrists, stopping him.
He shoves his hands beneath my arms and pulls me to my feet. With a hand twisting the wet fabric of my shirt, he pulls me flush against his body, his lip curled in a sneer.
“Don’t you dare tell me to wait. Not after all the waiting I’ve done. Not after a full week of despair, living in fear that I’m losing you. Use your safe word or shut the fuck up. I’m having you tonight,” he bites out. “And so is he.”