Chapter 29
Chapter Twenty-Nine
Kayla
Something slams into my shoulder. I wake up instantly.
For a split second, I’m disoriented, the room dark and quiet, except for the distant hum of the city outside the windows.
Then Sawyer shouts, “No!” and a sharp, broken sound tears out of him.
His entire body jerks violently beside me. The mattress shakes as he thrashes against the sheets, like he’s trapped in something he can’t escape.
My heart jumps into my throat.
“Sawyer!”
He doesn’t hear me. His arms swing wildly, knocking the pillow to the floor.
Another strangled shout rips out of him as he twists onto his side, breathing like he’s running for his life.
Panic floods through me. “Sawyer, wake up!”
I grab his shoulders, trying to hold him still, but he’s strong, even half asleep. His arm flings out again, barely missing my face.
His chest heaves as another word breaks from him, garbled and desperate.
For a moment, I just stare. I’ve never seen anything like this.
Every muscle in his body is rigid with panic.
“Sawyer!” I say louder, shaking him.
His eyes snap open. He bolts upright in the bed like he’s been thrown out of the nightmare.
For a second, he looks completely lost. His gaze darts around the room, chest heaving, sweat soaking the sheets.
“Sawyer,” I say softly now.
His eyes finally find mine. The fear there stops me cold. He drags a hand across his face like he’s trying to wipe the dream away.
“Hey,” I whisper.
Without thinking, I move closer and wrap my arms around him. His body is burning hot and trembling.
At first, he goes rigid in my arms, like he’s not used to someone touching him in this moment.
But then his shoulders sag slightly. His forehead presses against my neck as his breathing slowly starts to calm.
“I’ve got you,” I murmur quietly.
My fingers move through his damp hair, slow and steady.
“You’re okay.”
He doesn’t say anything. He just sits there, letting me hold him while the adrenaline slowly drains out of his body.
After a few minutes, his breathing evens out again. Carefully, he lies back down beside me.
This time, he turns toward me, pulling me closer, like he doesn’t want space between us.
Within minutes, he’s asleep again, but I stay awake, listening to the steady rhythm of his breathing.
Wondering what kind of nightmare makes a man like Sawyer scream in his sleep.
* * *
When I wake up, it takes a moment to remember where I am.
The sunlight coming through the windows is softer than usual, filtered through the curtains that Sawyer never bothered closing before I started staying here.
I feel the warmth behind me. His arm is draped loosely across my waist, heavy and protective.
Sawyer is still asleep. That almost never happens. For a few seconds, I just lie still, listening to the quiet rhythm of his breathing.
Last night flashes through my mind in pieces.
The nightmare, him screaming, and the way his body shook like he was fighting something he couldn’t see.
My chest tightens slightly at the memory.
I turn my head carefully. Sawyer’s face is relaxed now, the tension that normally sits in his jaw completely gone while he sleeps.
It’s strange, seeing him like this. Soft, unprotected, and human.
A small part of me realizes something at the same time.
He didn’t push me away after. Nor did he tell me to go back to my room. Instead, he pulled me closer.
Sometime during the night, he fell back asleep with his arm still around me.
My fingers move lightly across the sheet, tracing the edge of the blanket while my brain tries to process what that means.
Sawyer Maccini doesn’t let people see his weak moments—everyone knows that.
But last night, he did … with me.
The thought sends something warm through my chest.
Carefully, I shift in the bed. Sawyer stirs slightly behind me.
His arm tightens instinctively around my waist for a second before he settles again, like he doesn’t want the space between us.
I stare at the ceiling. This is dangerous territory.
The longer I stay here … the harder it’s going to be to pretend this is temporary.
I glance over my shoulder at him again. His hair is messy from sleep, one arm still stretched across the bed, where I am lying.
The most powerful and controlled man I know, and somehow, last night, he let me hold him together.
I exhale slowly.
Yeah, this is definitely dangerous. If I’m not careful, I’m going to start believing that I belong here.
Sawyer wakes a few minutes later. I know the exact moment it happens. His arm tightens around my waist slightly, and his breathing shifts.
For a second, he stays still, like he’s trying to figure out where he is.
Then he clears his throat quietly.
“Morning,” I say softly.
“Morning.”
His voice sounds rough. Not tired but guarded.
He rolls onto his back and drags a hand over his face. The sunlight from the windows cuts across the bed, lighting the faint sheen of sweat still lingering on his skin.
For a moment, neither of us says anything … and then he sits up like last night never happened.
“I’ve got an early call,” he says, already swinging his legs over the edge of the bed.
My chest tightens.
He’s doing exactly what I expected—ignoring. It’s probably worked for him his entire life, but it doesn’t sit right with me.
Not after what I saw.
“Hey,” I say quietly.
He pauses for a second.
Then he looks over his shoulder. “Yeah?”
I hesitate because I know the second I say this—the energy will change. But if I let him walk out of this room, pretending everything is fine … he’ll keep carrying it alone forever.
“You had a pretty intense nightmare last night.”
Sawyer’s expression shuts down immediately. “I’m fine.”
“That didn’t look fine.”
He stands fully now, tension settling into his shoulders. “It happens.”
He reaches for his shirt like the conversation is over … like it’s not worth talking about.
“People don’t usually scream like that in their sleep,” I say gently.
His jaw tightens, and for a moment, he doesn’t respond.
He shrugs. “Bad dreams.”
I push the blankets back and sit up. “Bad dreams don’t make someone fight the sheets like they’re in a war.”
He turns toward me slowly while his eyes narrow slightly. “You analyzing me now?”
“No.”
I hold his gaze. “I’m worried about you.”
That seems to catch him off guard. Just enough that his armor slips for half a second before it snaps back into place.
“I’ve handled it for this long.”
Something in his voice makes my chest ache.
The quiet resignation, mixed with the belief that this is just something he has to survive. Alone.
I slide off the bed and step closer to him. “You don’t have to handle it alone anymore.”
His eyes flick down to mine. “And what exactly do you think you’re going to do about it?”
I shrug softly. “Nothing.”
That clearly isn’t the answer he expected.
“I’m not here to fix you,” I continue. “I just don’t want you thinking you have to carry whatever happened to you by yourself.”
Silence fills the space between us. Sawyer looks away first as he runs a hand through his hair. For the first time since I’ve known him, he actually looks … unsure.
“I don’t talk about it,” he says finally.
“I figured.” Another quiet moment passes. I add softly, “But you could.”
His shoulders rise slightly with a slow breath. He stares out the window for a long moment, and then he turns back toward me. “You’re not going to like what you hear.”
I shake my head. “That’s not your decision to make.”
Another pause … longer this time. Finally, Sawyer exhales and drags a hand across the back of his neck.
“Tonight,” he says quietly.
My heart skips.
“Tonight?” I repeat.
He nods once. “After work.”
There’s something heavy in his voice, like he’s already regretting the promise, but he doesn’t take it back.
And for the first time since last night … I feel like maybe I’m starting to see the real man behind the armor.