Chapter 44 Sawyer
Chapter forty-four
Sawyer
Ituck my legs under my body and settle in. I don’t know where we’re going or how long it’ll take to get there, but the windows are rolled all the way down, and the cool breeze sends the best kind of shivers through me.
In this moment, with this man, I’m safe.
“Too much air?” Noah asks, accelerating down a two-lane road lined with enormous trees.
The leaves are brilliant and bold: crimson red, honey gold, fiery orange, and earthy brown. It’s like taking the scenic route through a piece of art.
The scent of bonfire and burning leaves wafts into the cab.
Another chill rolls through me, causing me to grip the sleeves of Noah’s flannel.
“It’s perfect,” I holler over the wind.
Despite my response, Noah rolls up his window halfway.
I shoot him a puzzled look.
He offers me a second’s glance, then quickly focuses on the road again. Chuckling, he says, “I could barely hear you over the wind, honey. Couldn’t stand the idea of missing a single word out of that pretty little mouth.”
Warmth blooms all over, no doubt flushing my cheeks and chest, as I side-eye him, taking in his profile.
He’s so striking. Rugged, with an easy confidence. His skin is tan from working outdoors all season, his jawline sharp beneath the stubble of his short beard.
“Where are we going?” I ask, playing with the sleeves of the flannel I stole from him earlier.
With a smirk, he says, “A little spot I know.”
I shift his way, both brows raised. “You expect me to just trust that?”
He breaks into a genuine, expressive grin that wrinkles the skin around his eyes. “I expect you to just trust me.”
“I do,” I tell him.
Wholeheartedly.
“We’re headed two towns over,” he says. “Hampton. Mercer’s grandparents used to live out this way. Their old neighborhood connects to a park with a pedestrian bridge over the railroad tracks.”
He refocuses on the road, his expression pensive for a moment.
“It’s a good place to think,” he says eventually. “A good place to reset.”
With the declaration, he reaches over and laces our fingers together.
“This okay?” He holds up our hands while staying focused on the road.
I marvel at his genuineness. At the way he’s always checking in and prioritizing my needs.
“Yes,” I assure him with a squeeze. “It’s more than okay.”
We sit quietly for a while, nothing but the wind and the faint melody on the radio filling the cabin.
“You don’t have to ask me things like that,” I tell him after several minutes.
His face screws up in confusion. “I do. Merce always does, so I’m taking a play out of his book.”
I press my lips together, connecting the dots. Mercer always asks? Is he thinking about the way Mercer asks for my consent or reminds me of my safe word before sex? If so…
Cheeks flushed, I mumble, “That’s different.”
Noah emits a lighthearted chuckle. “Believe me, honey. I’m aware. It’s like you two have this unspoken language. I don’t know how to operate like that.” He lifts our hands to his mouth and kisses my knuckles.
I lean into the console, eager to be as close as I can get.
“I trust you just as much as I trust Mercer,” I assure him.
Noah smiles—though it doesn’t reach his eyes—and puts both hands on the steering wheel.
My heart sinks a fraction. Shit. Does he feel excluded? God, I hope not. I could leave this alone and let it go, but he’s gone to great lengths over the last twenty-four hours to care for me, and I want to give him the same.
Mercer Eden is kinky as fuck, and that is absolutely my vibe. But Noah’s steadiness—his softness and the effortless safety he inspires—feels just as good to my soul.
Clearing my throat, I squeeze his hand. “The dynamic Mercer and I share involves blanket consent. We trust each other enough to know ourselves and to use a safe word if we need to slow down or stop.”
Noah grips the wheel a bit tighter, his head shaking slightly. “That’s not going to cut it for me, honey.”
My insides twist a little.
“I don’t totally get it,” he says. “The safe words and the limits you two talk about. I can respect it, of course. I can and I will. But I don’t want that with you.”
The twisting turns into full-on nausea. If he doesn’t want that, does that mean he doesn’t want me?
“Noah—”
With a steady, tender touch, he cups the back of my neck.
“I want you to know I’m always going to ask.
Call me old-fashioned, but I need an emphatic yes every time.
I need to hear it. I don’t ever want to assume or take anything for granted.
I want you to trust that your well-being is always top of mind for me. ”
Good grief.
This man.
I’ve never felt as safe, protected, cared for, or seen as I do when he’s focused on me.
Then, because obviously he’s compelled to make sure his romantic declaration landed okay, he asks, “Is that all right, honey?”
I close my eyes, nod, and inhale deeply, reveling in the way his cedarwood and sweet honey scent mingles with the smell of burning leaves.
It’s more than all right.
We’re going to be okay. I’ll make sure of it.
But before we can move forward, there’s something Noah and Mercer both need to know.
With a fortifying breath, I sit up a little straighter. “I need to tell you something. I—” My voice cracks and the apples of my cheeks sting as I fight to hold back tears. “I fucked up. And then I just kept fucking up—” A sob catches me by surprise, followed by a hiccup.
“Hey,” he soothes, caressing my nape. “You’re okay, honey. Just talk to me.”
Words catch in my throat. All that comes out are fresh tears.
He frowns in concern, his focus drifting from me to the road and back again.
“Did you hurt someone?” he finally asks. There’s a bite to his tone, an underlying honesty that tells me that’s a dealbreaker where he’s concerned.
Did I hurt someone?
“Technically, yes.”
I hurt myself. I blatantly hurt Mercer. Inadvertently I hurt Tytus. And I hurt Noah, too.
A low grumble vibrates through his chest. “Did you intentionally hurt someone?”
I suck in a shuddering breath and steal a quick glance. He’s staring at the road, his speed slow. He deserves the truth.
“No,” I whisper, shaking my head. I didn’t set out to hurt anyone. That’s the truth. “I didn’t mean to hurt anyone. But I wasn’t faithful to you or to Mercer.”
My confession is met with silence.
Heavy, noxious, stifling silence presses me back into the seat and makes it hard to breathe.
After several torturous seconds, he finally speaks. “Your friend? The hockey player?”
My heart cracks right down the middle. “Yes.”
He grips the wheel tighter. “Fuck,” Head whipping my way, he spears me with a look. “Do you want to be with him?”
No.
My response is visceral, a pulsing in my veins.
But is it the honest truth?
It wasn’t. There was a time—a glimmer of hope—when I thought I could give in to my connection with Tytus and still be with Mercer and Noah, too. But that line of thinking has imploded over the last several days.
I can’t have these men and the first boy I ever loved.
I have to choose, and after this weekend, my choice is abundantly clear.
I thought that when I let go of the idea of Ty and me, that would be it. I’d release my hope and it would dissipate into the ether. I didn’t realize just how tightly he was holding on or how hard he’d fight to maintain his grip.
I don’t want to want him.
But none of this has been as simple or clear-cut as I thought it would be.
It’s not over, as much as I want it to be.
I’m going to have to pry myself out of Tytus’s grasp. It won’t be easy or pretty, but I have to unravel myself from his life if I’m going to be with Mercer and Noah fully. I owe it to them.
Most importantly, I owe it to myself.
“I want to be with you,” I tell him. “And with Mercer. I want the three of us to be together.”
“That’s what I want, too,” he assures, nodding.
“From here on out, you’re my girl. Mercer’s, too.
” Grinning, he leans over the console to place a kiss on my head.
“I don’t need to know any details if you don’t want to talk about it.
I just want to be with you. Right here, right now.
Today, tomorrow, and all the days to come. ”
My heart settles at his easy acceptance.
But then the other shoe drops.
“You do need to talk to Mercer, though. Ideally as soon as we get home. I can’t keep something like this from him, and it’s not fair that he doesn’t know.”
I puff out my cheeks and nod. “I will.”
He grasps my hand and interlaces our fingers once more.