Chapter 3
SAWYER
I wake up tangled in sheets that don’t feel safe anymore. His arm is still around my waist, heavy like a chain I forgot to unlock. I don’t move. I just stare at the crack of sunlight crawling up the bedroom wall and let guilt creep in like it always does.
We kissed.
And then, like clockwork, it went further.
I didn’t say no. I never do. Saying no to Blake isn’t simple; it’s hours of defending myself against the twist of his words, trying to prove that boundaries aren’t rejection. And still, it’s never enough.
So I let him touch me. I let him tell me everything was fine now. I let him fall asleep wrapped around me as if nothing had happened.
But everything had changed.
I slip out of bed without waking him, grabbing my phone from the charger like it might ground me. A notification buzzes across the screen.
Darklight Media: Welcome to the Team.
My heart lurches.
I blink in disbelief, read it again, then drop onto the edge of the bed with a grin I can’t hold back. Amidst the chaos of last night, I’d sent those shots to Macee—and it paid off.
I’m officially hired.
This tour isn’t just a dream anymore. It’s real. It’s mine.
And I won’t let Blake take this from me. Not this time.
I move carefully, grabbing a hoodie from the chair and slipping it over my tank top. Blake stirs but doesn’t wake.
Thank God.
The floor creaks in the hall, but I’m already out the door before I can second-guess myself. The early morning air is cool and clean. So sharp it almost clears the fog in my head.
I send a text to Macee on the way down the stairs.
Sawyer: “Meet me for coffee at our spot. I have news.”
Macee: “You didn’t kill him, did you?”
Sawyer: “Worse. I survived the night. ??”
***
The bell above the door to The Hollow Cup jingles as I walk in, and I spot her instantly. Slouched in a booth, sunglasses on, she raises her middle finger in greeting.
“Congratulations,” Macee says as I slide in across from her, taking a sip of the iced coffee she had waiting for me. “You’re not dead. Or arrested. That’s a win.”
I roll my eyes and hand her my phone, flipping it screen up to show her the email.
“No. Fucking. Way.”
I grin, despite everything. “Way.”
Macee nearly launches her drink across the table. “Darklight actually took you on? You’re officially hired for the end of the tour?”
I nod, and the smile won’t stop climbing my face.
“First gig starts this weekend in Omaha.”
She clutches her chest dramatically. “Oh my god. My best friend is going on tour with Her Last Confessional as their exclusive photographer for the rest of the tour. I’m so proud I could spit blood.”
Macee finally stops squealing long enough to take a sip of her drink, but she doesn’t drop the grin.
“I wish I were going with you,” she says, setting her cup down. “Like, actually on tour. You and me? On the road again? Cameras, chaos, caffeine-induced breakdowns at 2 a.m. like we used to? Dream life.”
“You’re still a part of it,” I remind her. “You got me in.”
“Yeah, yeah. I opened the door, but you strutted through in platform boots and didn’t look back.
” She shrugs, but I can tell it’s not just teasing.
“Besides, I’m stuck here for now. My boss wants me to cover this up-and-coming band, Bite the Vow, doing a residency in town.
Some post-hardcore emo revival type deal.
They’re loud, they’re angry, and their drummer keeps calling me ‘mommy’.
” She makes a face, but I know she secretly enjoys it.
I snort into my drink.
“Hey, don’t laugh,” she adds. “They might blow up. I might end up regretting not getting their numbers now.”
We both laugh. She takes a breath. “But still… I’m proud of you, Sawyer.”
Macee’s smile falters just a little as she studies my face.
“You’re happy,” she says slowly, “but not happy happy. What happened when you got home last night?”
I glance down at my coffee. “He was there. He apologized. We kissed. He stayed over.”
Macee says nothing to my small rundown of last night, but the silence is deafening.
“It wasn’t a fight,” I add quickly. “He was… nice. Sweet, even.”
“Mm-hmm,” she hums, not buying it. “And did you want any of it? Or did you just let it happen because it’s easier than blowing it all up?”
I don’t answer. I don’t have to. She knows me too well.
I open my mouth to change the subject, but then the bell above the café door jingles, catching my attention.
My heart stutters.
No. Oh, god. No.
I turn my head fully, and yep, there he is.
Jasper Reign.
Black hoodie. Dark eyes. The devil incarnate. He walks in like he owns the place, but not in the loud, look-at-me way of a rockstar, more like a shadow that chooses exactly when to be seen.
I refuse to be noticed. I shrink into my seat, sunglasses still on, jaw locked. He doesn’t look at me—but somehow, that’s worse. Like he’s letting me wait for the moment he does. And goddamn it, part of me is holding my breath for it.
Macee notices immediately. “Um, what the hell?”
I can’t answer her. I can’t even blink, afraid it will draw attention to me.
Instead, I watch him as he stands there waiting for his order. The barista sets his drink down with an overly friendly smile that stirs feelings in me I’m not ready to acknowledge.
He takes the coffee, turns toward the exit, and that’s when his eyes lift.
Straight to mine.
He winks at me, the corner of his mouth curves just a hint and I forget how to breathe. That smirk cuts through me like a knife through static. He knew I was here. Knew I’d look. And even as my pulse quickens, I remind myself that I don’t want him. I don’t.
But then why the hell am I still staring at the door after he leaves?
Macee blinks once, twice, and then leans across the table as if about to deliver a holy prophecy. “Okay, what the actual hell was that? Did Lucifer himself wink at you?”
I’m already grabbing my phone and fumbling to stand, but she keeps going, all teeth and chaos.
“You kissed your toxic boyfriend last night, and now the lead singer of Her Last Confessional is stalking you into coffee shops. Girl, you’re living my Wattpad dream.”
I shoot her a look, but she only smirks. “Go—before he comes back and autographs your soul.”
I don’t wait any longer. I slide out of the booth, nearly trip over the table leg, and make a beeline for the bathroom, my skin burning like it might actually catch fire if I stay out there another second.
The second the door clicks shut behind me, I grip the sink with both hands and drop my head. Breathe. In. Out. In. Out.
You’re fine. It’s fine. He didn’t even look at you.
But I’m lying. And worse—I know it.
That smirk? That look? It wasn’t for the barista.
It was mine. And my pulse is still tap-dancing in my neck because of it.
I twist the cold water on, splash my face, and focus on the rhythm of the faucet. The air’s thick in here, and for a second, it feels like the room’s shrinking around me.
Then—
I feel him.
I don’t hear the door open. But the air shifts. Heavy. Intentional.
I spin around, heart in my throat, and he’s already there with his back to the door.
“You didn’t even hear me come in, did you? You were too busy trying to breathe.” He smirks while putting his hands in his pockets.
My whole body locks up. “Are you kidding me?”
He smirks, pushing off the door, slow like he’s got all the time in the world. “You ran.”
“I went to the bathroom.”
His head tilts, those dark eyes pinning me where I stand. “Without saying hi?”
“Maybe I didn’t want to.”
“But you did.” His voice drops to something darker. “You do.”
I cross my arms and take a step back. “Look, I don’t know what kind of game you’re playing, but I’m not interested.”
His smirk deepens. “No?”
“No,” I say firmly. “I have a boyfriend.”
“I know you were staring at me. I felt you.”
“You’re insane. I wasn’t looking at you.” My back hits the edge of the sink. He doesn’t stop until he’s directly in front of me.
“You can lie to your little friend out there, you can even try to lie to yourself, but don’t lie to me. You ran because you felt it too, didn’t you?”
My throat tightens. “I didn’t run.”
But I did.
Bzzz. Bzzz.
Bzzz.
My phone lights up on the counter beside me.
Blake.
His name burns through the screen, and I hesitate.
Jasper glances down, then back up at me, and that smile shifts to something darker.
“You better get that,” he says, voice all velvet sin. “Wouldn’t want your little boyfriend getting scared when you don’t answer.” He tilts his head. “Unless you like watching him squirm.”
Only the buzz of my phone fills the silence—twice, then nothing. A missed call. Blake. His name still flashes like a wound I haven’t cleaned out.
Neither of us move.
But he slowly starts to lean in, almost like he’s tasting the moment. Like I’m something delicate and dangerous all at once. He stops inches from me, close enough that I feel the ghost of his breath graze my cheek.
I hold my ground, even though my chest is tight, and my legs are screaming at me to flee before I melt or snap. Or both.
“You’re really this full of yourself?” I snap. “You think every girl that looks at you wants you?”
“No,” he says. “But I know you do.”
My cheeks flare with heat. I don’t know if it’s fury or humiliation or the fact that part of me does want him. And I hate that he sees it.
“Go to hell,” I mutter, trying to sidestep.
But his hand lifts, not touching, just ghosting near my shoulder as he blocks my path. He’s close enough now that I can feel his heat bleeding through the space between us.
“I’ll see you there,” he murmurs, voice brushing against my skin like a secret I don’t want but can’t unhear. “But first… I’ll make you say my name.”
His eyes stay locked on mine as he leans in just a breath closer, and my whole body tightens—jaw, thighs, fists. I don’t move.
“Like I said, don’t waste either of our time lying to me.”
I shove past him—rougher than necessary—but he lets me go.
Lets me think I’ve escaped.