Chapter 30
Chapter thirty
Sawyer
The sharp knock comes a good twenty minutes after Mercer’s quick escape.
Ty gives me a meaningful look, hovering above where I’m propped up against several pillows. He tucks my freshly showered hair behind my ear, then bends low to kiss me.
It’s another barely there peck.
It’s appropriate for the situation but entirely too gentle and reserved for the needy, lust-laced desire that always exists between us.
Because that’s the thing.
Now that I’m not actively resisting Ty or rallying against some fucked-up narrative where he’s demanding I’m his and only his, it feels like we can go back to the possibility of something real and raw and true between us.
His willingness to try has unlocked a voracious need in me that I’ve had to gatekeep for far too long.
I want him. I want him so badly I ache.
He’s not even out of the room, and I miss him already.
But I owe Mercer a conversation. It’s time to do the responsible thing and tackle all the obstacles standing in the way of rekindling what Mercer and I shared.
“I’ll be right out there,” Ty says, nodding toward the closed door.
I scrunch my nose, a hint of unease creeping through me. Mercer and I have a lot to discuss… much of which involves Ty. His presence so close by won’t lend itself to the sense of safety Mercer will need for us to make any real progress.
“Maybe you could head to the kitchen?” I suggest. “We’ll come out and join you when we’re done.”
Tension spikes between us, but I only sit straighter, holding eye contact. Now that I’ve thought it through, I’m certain a bit of space will be necessary for Mercer’s sake.
Eventually, Ty’s shoulders fall and he nods.
He ambles to the door at a slow, cautious pace, clearly hurting.
With any luck, Noah has something to help him take the edge off.
Yanking the door open, Ty holds out one arm to usher Mercer inside.
To his credit, Mercer doesn’t seem bothered by the way he’s being invited into his own room.
The men don’t say a word to each other, but Ty gives me one last look, his unspoken directive clear—I’ll be right here if you need me—before he disappears.
“Hi,” Mercer grits out as he approaches. His arms are full of bottles and supplies.
I jump up, set to give him a hand, but regret it the second I’m upright. The room spins, and I’m instantly woozy.
“Sit.” He shuffles closer, hovering in the same spot Ty occupied a moment ago as I slump back onto the bed.
Tenderly, he grips me by the elbows and guides me to my feet.
“Try the floor,” he suggests. “It’s more solid than the bed. It should help with the dizziness.”
I allow him to ease me into a sitting position with my back against his bedframe, closing my eyes to fight off the vertigo. When I open them, I find him on the floor as well, sitting directly opposite and mirroring my position, close enough that our knees touch.
Brow furrowed, he cracks open a water bottle. Then he shakes out a few pills from a bottle and offers me both.
I toss the meds into my mouth and suck down half the water in one long gulp.
I’ve had three bottles so far this morning, each one making me feel a modicum better.
I drank a decent amount last night before I was rolling on molly, but by the way the haze around my head persists, I suspect the molly wasn’t pure.
That or the drink JD gave me wasn’t clean.
The shower was necessary, though I spent most of it sitting on the tile. The simple act of washing and rinsing my hair left me wrung out.
“How are you feeling?” Mercer tucks hair behind my ear. He chooses the side opposite from the one Ty did.
The move makes me smile—and it gives me hope. Despite their stark differences and initial loathing of one another, these men have at least one thing in common: how well they care for me.
“Awful,” I groan. “The effects of the molly combined with whatever else I likely ingested are giving me vertigo. Every few minutes, another wave of dizziness and nausea washes over me.”
Mercer hums thoughtfully. “You’ve taken MDMA before, I presume?”
“Yes.” There’s no point in downplaying it, especially with him. “I used to do it almost every time I went out.”
He doesn’t ask a follow-up question. Instead, he studies me, his brow creased.
The moment of silence gives me time to mull over what I want to say next. If this is our shot at reconciling, I want to put everything out there. Everything I can while still protecting Ty, that is.
“Will you do something for me?” I ask.
He straightens, his face twisting in a look of fear. “Anything.”
I press my lips together and take a deep breath, steadying myself. “Would you mind closing your eyes? While I talk, I mean. I want to tell you everything. I just—I just need to get through it, and I worry that if I have to gauge your reactions, I’ll chicken out.”
He swallows thickly, his throat bobbing, then sighs. “Don’t you dare try to leave this room while I’m not looking.”
“I wouldn’t dream of it,” I assure him, offering a soft smile.
He cocks one brow in challenge.
“Close them please,” I whisper.
Finally, he does, and I begin.
“Before I came to Holt, I spent a lot of time alone. My parents…” Another wave of nausea hits me, so I close my eyes and breathe through it.
When I’m certain I don’t need to make a run to the bathroom, I go on.
“My parents died tragically and unexpectedly.
It happened just a few weeks before Atty and Ty were set to move eleven hours from home to play hockey.
We were all still reeling when they left, and I was alone. I was profoundly alone.
“Growing up, I spent most of my free time at the local ice arena with my parents, watching the boys play hockey. On weekends we’d travel all over to tournaments.
As lame as it sounds, Atty and Ty were my best friends.
Our family was close. I didn’t just love my parents; I truly enjoyed spending time with them.
So much changed so quickly around the time I turned eighteen. I… I lost all of them at once.”
I stop that part of the story there. I’m afraid if I go any further, I’ll go too far.
“I went to my first college party just to force myself out of the house. It was the third week of the semester, but most of my classes were online. I had gone six days without leaving the house or talking to anyone besides Atty and Ty. That weekend, they had an away game in a remote town even farther north than where they were living, so I knew I wouldn’t hear from them for a few days. It was just me and my grief.”
I pause, watching Mercer’s face for any signs of disapproval. His expression is even, his eyes still closed, and his posture is mostly relaxed. He’s listening, and as promised, he’s letting me try to get through this.
“I was scared out of my mind when I walked in. But I quickly learned how much alcohol would loosen me up. If I kept a steady buzz going, the loneliness and grief went quiet. I tried E for the first time the next weekend. From there, I experimented more, and eventually I became a certified party girl. It sure as hell beat being a deeply grieving, lonely girl. That’s all I had to look forward to for a while.
I started to crave it… the warmth and sense of companionship from random hookups.
The light, floaty sensation when the molly would hit me, or the loose, uncaring recklessness that comes with being so drunk I can’t see straight.
“I went out every weekend for months and months. I felt like I had unlocked a superpower. I’d party hard for three days straight and was somehow fortunate enough to recover quickly.
Then I’d fall right back into the role I had perfected.
The smart, prepared, overachieving student.
The sweet sister and friend. I got really good at living two lives.
During the week, I would hole up in the library during the day and ensure I was home at night to talk to my brother or Ty.
On the weekends, though… I could be someone else.
I could shed all the bad memories and trade my loneliness for emotions that didn’t hurt so much.
I liked being wild and feeling free. I loved that I could forget, if just for a little while. ”
Shoulders slumping, I blow out a long breath.
It’s not everything, but I’m drained, so for now, it has to be enough.
Timidly, I take one of Mercer’s hands in mine. “You can open your eyes now.”
He blinks a few times and slowly lifts his head until our gazes connect. It takes effort to fight the urge to look away. I don’t want to hide from him. I don’t want to leave anything unsaid.
For all I know, this makes no sense to him.
I’ve never had to explain myself, so I’ve never really examined why I was so drawn to the party scene.
Sharing all that may not be enough, but it feels like a first step.
I refuse to be ashamed of the coping mechanisms I created.
They were important for years. They were how I survived.
But last night was different.
Last night I was wild and reckless and loose, yet it didn’t help. Not even a little.
All my heartbreak was still there, even after several drinks. The pain lingered all night. The deep desire to be with the three men I’ve come to view as mine was completely undeterred by the drugs and alcohol.
“I regret how I behaved last night.” The confession is for Mercer, but it’s also for me. “I made poor choices for all the wrong reasons, and in the end, it didn’t matter. In the end, I still just wanted you.”
Once I get that last admission out, I slump forward, dizzy again and wildly frustrated with myself.
Strong hands cup my upper arms, then Mercer’s face is close to mine. “Is it okay if I hold you now?”
With an unexpected sob, I scoot forward and melt into his waiting arms.
Instantly, his warmth soothes me. Good grief. I missed him so much.
How did I ever think I could walk away from this man and the way he loves me?