Chapter 31
JASPER
I don’t even realize I’m leaning in until my lips brush hers—soft, careful, just a taste of everything I’ve missed. Sawyer sighs against my mouth, and I pull away, barely an inch between us, searching her face for any hint of hesitation. She looks at me like I’m home.
“Can I…” My voice catches, rough in my throat. “Can I kiss you the right way?”
A crooked grin tugs at her lips, teasing. “I suppose that would be acceptable.”
God, she’s perfect.
So I kiss her again. I kiss her long and slow, pouring every desperate, aching second of missing her into the way I hold her face, the way my mouth moves over hers. Her arms snake up around my neck, pulling me closer until I can barely breathe.
When I finally break away, I rest my forehead against hers. I’m grinning, but my heart’s going a million miles an hour. She giggles—a sound I thought I’d never hear again—and says, all innocent and wicked, “Jasper…you’re hard.”
I can’t help it—I laugh, the sound low and helpless. “Yeah, Sawyer, that’s what kissing you does to me. I’ve missed you for days now. For what feels like weeks. Hell, since the first minute you left my sight.”
She leans in for another kiss, hungry, but I stop her gently—my hand at her jaw, thumb stroking her cheek.
“Hey—listen,” I say, voice softer now, serious.
“I want you. God, I want you more than anything. But after everything you’ve just been through, I’m not going to push you.
Anything we do tonight, anything at all—that’s all you.
You say the word, or you say nothing. It’s up to you.
I’ll wait as long as it takes. I’d wait forever. ”
She blinks at me, something shining in her eyes that’s more than just relief—it’s trust. And that, more than anything, is what I’ve been aching for.
I tuck a piece of hair behind her ear and breathe her in, heart thundering, willing her to believe every word.
“I love you, Sawyer. I’m not going anywhere.” I brush my lips over her forehead, just once. “I mean it, baby. I’ll wait as long as you need.”
She shifts in my lap, swinging one leg over until she’s straddling me.
My body reacts—of course it does—but I don’t move.
I let her take the space, let her take me.
Her fingers cradle my jaw, thumbs brushing just beneath my eyes like she’s searching for something in me.
Like she’s already found it and just needs to make sure it’s real.
“I want this,” she whispers, voice unsteady. “Not sex. Just… this. You. Let me feel close to something that doesn’t hurt.”
God, if that doesn’t fucking ruin me.
“I’m yours, Trouble.” My hands come to rest gently at her thighs, unmoving. “Take whatever you need.”
She leans in, pressing a slow kiss to my mouth that’s full of emotion instead of urgency. My heart kicks against my chest, and I breathe her in like she’s oxygen after too long underwater.
Her shirt comes off, and I catch my breath—but not because of sex. It’s the vulnerability in it. The choice she makes to let me see her, just as she is. She places my hand on her chest, over her heart, and I feel it racing.
“I just want to know what it feels like to be chosen,” she says, barely audible.
I sit up slowly, keeping one hand on her spine, the other at her hip, and I rest my forehead to hers again.
“You are,” I say, telling the truth. “Every day. Every breath. Not because you asked for it. Not because of anything you do. Just because you’re you.”
She exhales a shaky breath, eyes glossy. Her fingers tangle in my hair, and she holds me like she’s afraid the moment will vanish.
“I don’t want to be touched tonight,” she murmurs. “Not like that. Just… hold me like I matter.”
“I’ll hold you like you’re the only thing keeping me sane because you are.”
And I do.
I lay back, letting her rest on top of me, chest to chest, skin to skin but not for lust. Her ear against my heartbeat. My arms locked around her like she’s the last good thing in this world. We stay like that, tangled in warmth and silence, until sleep finds us both.
SAWYER
Jasper’s arm is heavy around me, his chest is warm against my back. Riot’s side of the bed is still empty. No trace of his body heat, no scent lingering in the air. Just the quiet rise and fall of Jasper’s breathing and the way his fingers twitch slightly in sleep, like he’s still reaching for me.
I stay there, curled beneath the weight of someone who says he loves me.
He said it again last night. Just before I drifted off.
“I love you.” Like it was a simple truth. No fanfare, no pressure. Just warmth and finality.
He meant it. I know he did.
I wanted to say it back, but the words caught in my throat like barbed wire. I could feel them tearing at my throat begging to be set free and I still swallowed them down.
Because love has always been something people said before they left.
Or worse, before they showed you just how much they could hurt you and still call it love.
My dad said he loved my stepmom while he destroyed her.
Blake used those words when he needed to reel me back in.
When he wanted forgiveness instead of change.
When he needed me quiet and broken and dependent.
So what the hell am I supposed to do with someone like Jasper? Someone who holds me like I’m fragile but never makes me feel weak. Who listens. Who waits. Who doesn’t ask for anything back. Who sees through all the mess and trauma and still chooses me?
God, I feel it. I feel the love I have for him.
For Riot, too.
But admitting it feels like handing over a loaded gun with the safety off.
And yet, something about waking up here, tangled between their memory and warmth, makes me feel like maybe I can say it someday.
Maybe love doesn’t have to be a wound waiting to happen.
Maybe it can be a promise.
I push the covers back and slip into the hoodie draped across the foot of the bed—Jasper’s, from the scent of it—and quietly pad into the hallway. The house is dark, still humming with the quiet of late night. Maybe early morning.
I make it to the kitchen without turning on any lights. The tap runs for a second before I fill a glass, the cold stinging against my fingers.
“You always up this early?”
I jump a little, water sloshing over the rim of the glass.
Micah leans in the doorway, hair a mess, shirt wrinkled, clearly fresh from sleep. He lifts a hand in apology. “Didn’t mean to scare you.”
“It’s okay,” I say, brushing my fingers dry on Jasper’s sleeve. “Just… couldn’t sleep.”
Micah walks in and opens the fridge, pulling out something that looks like cold pizza. “You alright?”
I nod slowly. “Yeah. Just processing, I guess.”
He doesn’t push. Just takes a bite, chews, and then leans back against the counter, watching me.
“You know,” he says after a moment, “they were wrecks when you left.”
My eyes flick up to his. “I know Jasper was…”
“Both of them,” Micah says gently. “Riot wouldn’t show it much, but he was quieter than I’ve ever seen him. Snapped at everyone who looked at him wrong. Jasper…” He huffs. “That man nearly burned the world down trying to find you.”
I swallow around the lump in my throat.
“They love you,” Micah says simply. “I know you’ve been through hell. And I’m not saying it’s easy. But if you ever wonder whether any of this is real…” He shrugs. “It is.”
I stare down into my glass, the cold seeping into my hands.
“I’m trying,” I whisper. “To believe it. To believe I’m worth it.”
Micah pushes off the counter and sets the pizza down. “You are. Even if it takes you a while to see it.”
He turns to leave, as I clear my throat. “Hey… do you know where Riot is?”
Micah pauses mid-step, turning back to me. His expression shifts—just enough to confirm the worry I didn’t want to admit I was feeling.
“Yeah,” he says quietly. “He’s in the basement.”
My fingers tighten slightly around the glass. “With Blake?”
Micah nods. “Don’t worry. He’s not doing anything reckless, just keeping him quiet. Making sure he doesn’t get ideas.”
I nod slowly, trying to absorb it. The image of Riot down there in the dark, near him, twists something sharp in my chest. Not because I doubt Riot.
But because I know him. That rage he keeps just under the surface?
It doesn’t settle easily. And Blake is gasoline poured on every raw nerve we all share.
“He’ll be back up soon,” Micah adds, softer now. “He just needed to… cool down after everything. You disappearing broke him a little, Sawyer. He doesn’t say it, but we see it.”
I look away, throat thick, emotions pressing like a bruise. “Thanks,” I murmur.
He gives me a two-finger salute and disappears down the hall, leaving me alone again in the kitchen—only this time, not quite as adrift.
Because I’m not the only one fighting shadows tonight. And maybe I don’t have to keep fighting them alone.
RIOT
The basement smells of damp concrete, mildew, and the copper tang of fear. There’s one swinging bulb overhead, flickering, making everything look meaner than it already is. But I don’t mind. Not tonight.
Blake is chained to a chair in the middle of the room. His wrists cuffed to the handles and his ankles are shackled. He’s barely conscious now, eyes swollen, lip split from Jasper’s last visit.
I lean against the wall, arms crossed, watching him try to lift his head. Pathetic. Every inch of me wants to break something new. But I force myself to stay cool. This isn’t about losing control. It’s about sending a message.
He coughs, spits blood onto the concrete. “What, you here to play good cop?”
“Nah. Never been much for cops.”
He tries to glare, but it looks more like fear. “Sawyer’s won’t forgive you for this, you know. She’s gonna hate you both when she finds out—”
My fist connects with his jaw before he finishes the sentence. Not hard enough to break, just enough to silence him. I crouched down, close enough that he could see the promise in my eyes.