Chapter 28
Chapter twenty-eight
Sawyer
Apathetic, broken whimper escapes me as I crack my eyes open, then immediately slam them shut again and swallow what feels like broken glass.
Good grief.
Everything hurts. Literally.
My head is throbbing, but it’s no match for the fiery rawness of my throat.
My limbs ache, and my neck is riddled with knots. Based on the way my hair is pulling at the scalp, I’m certain it’s a matted mess. The grit of last night’s makeup has my face feeling tight, dry, and scratchy. My low back and hips burn from whatever I got up to last night.
It’s agony, but I have no one to blame but myself.
The room is dimly lit, but in my state, the gentle sunlight streaming in is still too much, so I take a minute to adjust before trying to open my eyes again.
Lying on my side, I focus on my breathing, mentally preparing for the worst. I remember enough about the first few hours of the party to have an idea about what I’ll find when I finally take a good look around.
When I’ve found the courage, I crack my eyes open and take in the room.
I suck in a breath, scanning the posters on the walls.
The sunshine pouring in through the windows illuminates one featuring the Goo Goo Dolls, another with an image of Dave Matthews Band, and a third: Counting Crows.
There’s a tidy desk with a black monitor on top, as well as a painfully familiar acoustic guitar resting against the desk chair.
A quiet, sincere hope hums under my skin.
I know this room.
Am I dreaming?
Eyes closed, I say a little prayer to the universe and continue taking stock of myself and my surroundings. I’m no longer wearing last night’s velvet bustier and mini skirt. Instead, I find a familiar thin, well-worn light gray Savage Garden T-shirt clinging to my body.
Slung over my waist is a heavy arm, the large hand—clearly a man’s—resting gently on my thigh.
Tentatively, hopefully, desperately, I grasp it.
“Mercer?” I ask on a broken whisper.
The body behind me stiffens, the grip on my hand going limp. “No.” A defeated sigh escapes him, making the hairs at my nape flutter. “It’s me.”
Tytus.
Memories slam into me like one physical blow after another. I’m in Mercer’s room, at Noah’s house, sleeping in Tytus’s arms.
They came to the party.
They carried me out.
Fuck. I think one of them may have even punched JD.
We were in the back seat. A car backfired.
It startled me. Scared the shit out of me, really. I begged Ty—I fucking begged—and then when he gave me what I wanted, I decided I also needed Mercer.
Good fucking grief.
The urge to coil in on myself and bury my head under the covers is overwhelming. So much of what occurred last night is shameful. Not only what I set out to do, but then what actually transpired. None of it was fair to anyone involved.
My heart sinks. I made such a mess.
A silent tear tracks down my cheek.
I lift my hand to swipe it away, but Ty beats me to it. Even though he can’t see me, even though I don’t deserve any semblance of comfort, he’s right there. He’s always right there, eager to take care of me.
He plants a soft kiss on my crown.
It’s the invitation I need to face him.
Gingerly, careful not to bump him or hurt his still-healing body, I turn.
He keeps his head resting on the pillow, so I do the same.
Onyx eyes bore into me, the depths of them so achingly familiar yet so distant and despondent.
“Hi,” I whisper.
Ty says nothing in response.
Swallowing the bitter taste of rejection, I look down between our bodies, mentally cataloging the soreness between my legs.
“Did we…” I trail off, too ashamed to admit how much I remember.
“Yeah. We did.”
I force myself to look him in the eye, desperate to get this over with.
“And we did it in Noah’s truck? In front of the others?”
Ty scoffs. It’s a humorless sound, followed by a silent wince. “Yeah. We did.”
He’s hurting. Atty said he still hasn’t recovered enough to be cleared for practice. Oh god… what if what we did last night slows his healing?
“I’m sorry, Ty—” A sob escapes me, tears flooding my eyes. “I’m so, so sorry. That shouldn’t have been our first time. You could have told me no. I’m just… I’m sorry.”
My chest tightens, making it difficult to breathe. Ty makes no moves to comfort me. Good. I prefer it this way. I don’t deserve his comfort or care.
It takes a moment to collect myself, the awkwardness between us punctuated by my slowing sniffles.
Eventually, he clears his throat and asks, “Why did you do that, Sawyer?”
Sawyer. It’s like a knife to the heart. It’s always mon ange, or more recently petit diable. Sometimes he calls me baby, which always makes me melt. Rarely is it ever just Sawyer.
I suck in a quick breath and get straight to the truth. “I was high and horny.”
His stern expression morphs into a glower. “That’s not what I meant, mon ange.”
He’s angry, yet the term of endearment calms my nerves.
Leaning closer, he nudges his nose against mine. “Why did you go to that party last night? Why did you take whatever you took?”
Oh. That.
This line of questioning makes more sense.
I blink slowly, the shame creeping back in.
Again, I stick with the straightforward truth. It feels like the only real path forward, and my only hope of working through the mess I’ve created.
Opening my eyes, I peek up through my lashes and catch my bottom lip between my teeth. “I wanted to forget.”
Ty presses his thumb to my lip, releasing it, then softly, almost in slow motion, leans forward and kisses me.
It’s a quick, barely there peck.
But it inspires an eruption of butterflies in my belly, each one frantically fluttering its wing and stoking an intense, unwarranted sense of hope inside me.
“Keep talking,” he encourages. “What did you want to forget?”
“All of it. All of you.” The butterflies settle, the sensation replaced by a dull ache in my chest. “That night in the locker room after your first game. All those nights in my dorm. The dinner with the staff from the Galaxy. Our fight afterward. All the times I pushed Mercer and Noah away. All the choices I made, and the ways I attempted to navigate this. Everything I did to contribute to you getting hurt in the barn.”
It doesn’t surprise me that I fell back on my old vices. Partying has always been my favorite way to cope.
Ty just doesn’t know that side of me.
Sometimes I wish I didn’t know that side of me either.
My less-than-healthy coping mechanisms are really fucking stupid.
Deep down, I think that’s why I revel in them.
I’m human. For the last few years, I’ve only cut myself any slack while partying.
It’s the only time I allow myself to acknowledge just how sad and broken and human I really am.
I spent years alone, enduring and surviving a tragedy and what we did that fateful night years ago.
Most of the time, the hits of relief were worth it. One more drink. A little baggie of powder or a joint passed between partners. Another anonymous hookup. My vices were the bright spots I craved when so much of my day-to-day life was lived alone, in darkness.
That’s the thing about trauma. It thrives in the dark. It flourishes when it’s pushed down and cast aside. Pretending like something never happened is the surest way to guarantee the memory of it sticks around forever.
“I hate that.” He wraps his arms around me, pulling me into his chest. “I don’t want you to feel like you have to forget anything, baby. What we went through back in Montreal? What we had to do? None of it was okay. But I’m still holding on to hope that we can be okay, if we’re together.”
I let his words sink in, will them to be true, as we lie in each other’s arms.
He brushes his lips over my forehead and pulls back a fraction.
“I don’t want you to try to forget. I could never forget you, mon ange. There’s no point in even trying. You own me completely. You’re etched into the essence of who I am.” He ducks, averting his gaze, but quickly forces his eyes back up to mine. “Please tell me you feel the same.”
I do. But I’m terrified to admit it.
Seconds of charged silence tick by before I finally say, “I’m scared, Ty.”
“It’s okay.” He tightens his grip around my shoulders. “We’ve faced scary things before.”
He’s oversimplifying the situation, and we both know it.
This isn’t just about us. It’s about us and our past and what he dreams of for our future.
It’s about the two other men I care about and how they’ve irrevocably changed me in just a few short months.
It’s about connection and sacrifice, a willingness to bend and adapt to unconventional circumstances.
It’s about what and who I want and how that differs from what I suspect Ty is willing to accept.
These aren’t “scary things.” They’re downright terrifying truths, and they have the power to destroy me, mind, body, and soul.
Rather than cower and keep my thoughts to myself, I dig deep and find the nerve to face the scary and just come out with it.
“I want to be with you, Ty. And I want to be with them, too.”
His body goes rigid, but I expected as much.
Weaving my fingers into the short hairs at his nape, I inch closer and kiss his neck.
“I want you. I want you so badly it aches. I’ve dreamed about being with you for years.
In my mind, it was always supposed to be you and me.
But… life happened. Things changed. I changed.
Since moving to Holt, I’ve actually started to like the person I’m becoming, and that’s largely in part because of Mercer and Noah.
Because of who I am when I’m with them and how they challenge and support me.
I won’t give them up,” I confess against his throat.
His Adam’s apple bobs as he swallows, and when he speaks, his words are low and rough. “I won’t lose you again.”
“I don’t want you to let me go. I just need you to accept that I need them, too.”
He clenches his jaw, his molars grinding against each other.
His reaction may not be a happy one, but he’s still here with me. He’s listening. Scared but holding on to a tiny bit of hope, I say, “There’s a solution somewhere here. There must be.”
He groans, his hands balling into fists behind my back. “I don’t understand what you’re asking me to do.”
I shrug, but I keep pushing. “I don’t either. At least, not yet. All I need is the assurance that you’re willing to acknowledge that they’re in my life. That you’re at least willing to try to accept them.”
Ty closes his eyes, his steady breathing the only sound between us.
Several seconds pass, each one painful and hopeful, tense and morose.
I oscillate between wanting to give him time to process and wanting to beg him to put me out of my misery and answer me already.
By some miracle, I resist the urge to push.
He deserves time to digest the details and really consider if it’s possible for him to give me what I’m asking for.
If the answer is no… I don’t know what I’ll do.
Shit. That thought brings fresh tears to my eyes. My dream is his personal hell. We’re on polar ends of an impossible situation… but something has to give if we ever want to move forward.
Eventually, he sighs and offers a concession. “You know I’d do anything for you, mon ange.”
I hold my breath for a beat, processing his words, my heart leaping into my throat. “Including being willing to try?”
“Yeah, baby,” he relents, bringing his lips to my forehead. “I’m willing to try.”
A creak from across the room makes me jump and sends my pulse racing.
Ty winces, and I mouth sorry, then turn, finding Mercer standing in the doorway, his eyes wide.
“You’re awake.” His gaze is unfocused and skittish as he scans his own room.
Awkwardness brews between the three of us hot and fast as Ty pushes up to sit.
“She’s awake.” He smooths a few loose tendrils of hair and kisses the top of my spine through Mercer’s thin T-shirt.
Possessive asshole.
Before either of them can take the pissing contest any further, I swing my legs over the side of the bed and sit up.
“Mercer, can we talk?”
I have so much to say. And now that I know where things stand with Ty, I’m eager to get everything out in the open.
I have so much to apologize for, especially regarding last night, and the need to start unpacking all our baggage is suddenly overwhelming.
If I’m going to face the scary things, I may as well tackle them all at once.
With a grimace, Mercer turns his head, looking down the hall. Then, gripping the doorframe, he focuses on the rug near his desk.
He’s looking everywhere but at me.
“Merce—”
“What can I do for you?” he asks, the words quiet but clipped. “I can bring water and ibuprofen. How about that? I’ll see if Noah has any electrolyte packets. Are you hungry? Let me go see what I can find. Be right back.”
With that, he raps his knuckles on the doorframe twice and takes off.
Ty quietly chuckles behind me.
I guess he won’t need to make good on his promise to try if I can’t even get the guys in the same room.
It’s going to be a really long day.