Chapter 17
SAWYER
Sunlight spills in through the slats of the bus window, thin and pale, just enough to make my eyes squeeze shut before fluttering open again. The first thing I feel is Jasper’s arm slung heavy over my waist, his body warm against my back, his breath steady. Safe.
And yet, my mind is already spinning.
Jasper Reign wants me. Riot wants me.
Both of them.
It doesn’t feel real.
I stare up at the ceiling of the bunk, trying not to let my thoughts spiral. Still, the quiet has a way of pulling out every insecurity, every question I try to ignore when lips are on my skin or when rough hands are pinning me down.
Why me?
I’m not special. I’m not the kind of girl rockstars lose their minds over. I’m too much and not enough at the same time. Too broken. Too anxious. Too full of history I don’t talk about. And I don’t believe in fairy tales. I never did.
I know what it feels like to be someone’s convenience.
I know what it means to be used and discarded, to be just a momentary high for someone until they find something shinier.
So what is this?
Some twisted rivalry between two guys who love to fight? Is it about ego? Power? Another stage to perform on?
My chest tightens.
What if I’m just caught in the middle of some game I don’t understand?
Jasper shifts behind me, like he can feel the change in my breathing. His fingers flex slightly against my stomach, and then his voice breaks the silence, rough from sleep.
“You’re thinking too hard again, baby.”
“Just tired,” I whisper, though it sounds like a lie even to me.
Jasper doesn’t let it slide.
He props himself up on one elbow, his hand brushing my hair back as he stares down at me, unreadable eyes scanning every inch of my face.
“Tell me what’s in that pretty head of yours,” he murmurs. “Before I pull it out of you the hard way.”
A shiver runs down my spine.
Because part of me wants him to.
But another part—the quiet, scared part that never believes good things last—doesn’t know how to speak the words out loud.
I blink up at him, and the ache in my chest pulses harder.
Am I allowed to ask?
Am I allowed to want both of them without losing myself in the process?
Without being destroyed
“I think…” I swallow, staring down at the sheet bunched in my fists. “I think part of me doesn’t know how to believe it.”
Jasper doesn’t say anything; he waits patiently, so I force myself to keep talking.
“I’ve spent most of my life feeling like the background noise in someone else’s story. Too much for the people who were supposed to love me, and never enough for anyone else to stay. I’ve been a backup plan. A second choice. The easy one to leave.”
My voice shakes, but I don’t stop.
“And now you… and Riot… both of you want me? At the same time? It doesn’t feel real. It feels like the universe is setting me up for a punchline I haven’t heard yet.”
I look at him, chest aching.
“I guess I’m just waiting for it to fall apart.”
JASPER
She doesn’t cry. She says it like she’s already accepted it—like the idea of being disposable is tattooed somewhere beneath her skin, stitched into the way she breathes.
And fuck, if that doesn’t gut me.
The light’s soft—just the faint amber from the hallway, painting shadows across her face. I push up on one elbow, reach out, and move her hair off her face, just so I can touch her. Her skin’s warm, softer than I deserve.
“You’re not a punchline,” I tell her. “And this isn’t some twisted joke.”
She tries to look away, but I tilt her chin back toward me, thumb gentle but insistent, needing her to see the truth in my eyes.
“You’re not background noise, Sawyer. You’re the goddamn melody. The part I can’t get out of my head, no matter how loud the rest gets.” My thumb brushes her cheek. She blinks, swallowing hard, lips trembling like she wants to believe but can’t quite reach it.
“I’m not good at this,” I admit. “Feelings. Comfort. All that shit. But I know what I feel when I look at you. I know what I’d do to keep you.”
I lean in, brush my lips against hers—slow, reverent. She doesn’t pull away, but she doesn’t lean in either. She’s still holding herself tight. Still bracing for the fallout.
“I don’t want you because Riot does. I wanted you the second I saw you. Before I even knew your name.”
Her breath catches. She’s trembling, not from fear—but from the weight of everything she’s never let herself believe.
“I’d burn this entire tour down before I let anyone treat you like you’re not enough again.” My hand finds her hip, grounding her, letting her feel how serious I am
“I just… I don’t understand,” she whispers. “You want me. He wants me. But why? I’ve never been the one people chose. Not without conditions.”
That hits harder than I expect. The doubt in her voice. The way she still questions her own worth. I see myself in that—same poison, different wounds.
I reach for her slowly. My hand slides over her thigh, then up her waist, grounding her, steady.
“This isn’t a game,” I say. “Not for me.”
Her eyes flick up. There it is—that flicker of hope. Fragile. Scared. But there.
“I don’t care what Riot wants,” I say, jaw clenched. “He’s not part of this moment. You are. You and me. You’re not some prize in a tug-of-war. You’re the one thing I’d never risk losing.”
Her breath shakes.
“You flinch every time someone gives you something good,” I whisper. “Like you expect it to be ripped away. But I need you to try to believe that this isn’t conditional. I’m not here for perfect. I’m here for you.”
I pause, letting my hand rest flat on her ribs.
“I see the way you’ve started to fight back against that voice in your head. The one that tells you you’re unlovable. I see you trying. And fuck, Sawyer—I’m so proud of you for that.”
She goes still.
I don’t even know if she realizes she’s shaking, but I feel the moment something shifts. Her breath hitches. Her hands stop fidgeting. And then slowly—almost cautiously—she leans into me.
Not because she thinks I’ll save her.
But because maybe, just maybe, she believes I won’t leave.
She folds into me like she’s giving herself permission to let go for the first time.
I wrap my arms around her. Hold her like I mean it. Because I do.
“And if Riot wants to be around?” I pause, adding a dark edge to my voice now.
“He’d better learn to tread carefully. Because you might not see it yet…
but you’re not just wanted, Sawyer. You’re fucking worshipped.
” I mean it. I’d drop to my knees for her.
Set fire to every stage I’ve ever stood on if it meant she’d believe it.
She exhales a broken sound—half cry, half gasp—and then leans into me like she’s giving in to something for the first time.
And fuck if that doesn’t undo me.
I lean in, kiss her slow—like I’ve got all the time in the world to worship her lips. Her breath catches, and her arms wrap around my neck, pulling me closer. She makes a tiny, wounded sound—hope and relief bleeding through.
“Jasper…”
God, the way she says my name—soft, breathy, desperate—it does something to me I’m not proud of. My cock stirs, thickening, pressed against her thigh.
“I need you to remember this,” I whisper against her lips. “What it feels like when it’s just us.” My voice is shaky—almost pleading.
I roll over, guiding her onto her back with a low growl, hovering above her as she parts her legs instinctively and I press my hips between her thighs.
My hand never leaves her body, fingers skating up beneath the shirt she stole from me last night, thumbs stroking the soft skin of her stomach, then her ribs.
I mouth at her collarbone, letting my teeth scrape gently over her skin. “You’re not disposable. Not to me. I need you to feel this. Every time I touch you, I want you to remember you’re wanted. Chosen.” I nip her jaw, lips dragging over her skin as I move lower, worshipping every inch.
Knock knock.
We freeze.
My jaw clenches, breath stuck in my throat. My hand is still beneath her shirt, fingers splayed over the warm skin of her belly, her pulse beating against my palm.
“Ignore it,” I mutter, already kissing her again, more urgent now, chasing the high we were about to crash into. My lips are frantic against hers, hands roaming—like I can hold her here, right here, and block out the world.
Knock knock.
This time louder.
Sawyer pulls back just enough to gasp, “Who the hell—”
“I said ignore it,” I growl against her throat, lips dragging along her collarbone, hand sliding under her panties—God, she’s so fucking warm, so fucking soft. My cock throbs, aching to be inside her, the frustration a sharp burn in my gut.
“Unless you want me to let myself in,” comes Riot’s unmistakable voice through the door, cocky and unbothered. “You’re not the only one who gets to have fun with her, Reign.”
Sawyer groans and drops her head against the pillow, her hair spilling wild across the sheets. Her chest heaves, every breath brushing against my lips as I hover above her, torn between wanting to throttle Riot and drag Sawyer right back under me.
I pull back slowly, eyes narrowing toward the door, my entire body still buzzing from the feel of her. My jaw ticks hard. I can feel the heat of jealousy crawling up my spine, turning every muscle rigid.
“I’m gonna kill him,” I mutter.
“Not before I get dressed,” she says, breathless, cheeks flushed, eyes wide with frustration and something dangerously close to amusement.
Knock knock.
Riot’s laughter, muffled but obvious, “You two better not be starting without me.”
I sigh, running a hand through my hair, every muscle tight with unsatisfied need. “Pull your shirt down. We’re not giving him the satisfaction of seeing you naked.”
SAWYER
He smacks my ass before rolling off, and I swear my legs almost give out trying to stand. I pull his shirt down over my thighs, cheeks still burning, core still throbbing with frustration, and pad barefoot to the door.
I open it a crack first.