Chapter 49
SAWYER
I round the back of the car and find Ivy in the fetal position on the cold, wet ground. I crouch down at her side, not wanting to scare her. I’d fucking die if she jerked away from me in fear right now. “Baby. It’s me. I’m here.”
“Sawyer,” she croaks, her precious voice cracking. She scrambles into my arms and I hold her tightly against my chest, leaning back against the bumper of the car and keeping her wrapped up on me. Her arms loop around her waist, holding herself just as tightly as I’m holding her, and my heart breaks. How the fuck did this happen?
“You’re going to be okay. I’ve got you and for as long as you want me, I’m never letting you go. You’re safe, baby. He’ll never hurt you again.”
“I love you. I thought I’d never see you again. I was so scared,” she confesses, and my heart aches painfully imagining what she just went through. Her voice sounds clearer, but I know I need to get her some water and get her checked out by a doctor. The sirens are closer now, but I don’t know how long it’ll be before they find us here in the woods.
“I love you too. You have nothing to fear anymore, it’s over. We’re gonna start that life we talked about. You and me, baby. We’ve got this.” She nods her head in agreement and relaxes into me. I’m so fucking proud of her. She survived. I anticipated finding her having a full panic attack, but as she sinks into my chest and her breathing steadies, I realize how much she’s healed, she’ll heal from this too. I’ll make damn sure of it. She’s so goddamn strong. No woman should ever have to go through what she just did, and the fact that it’s a reality for so many rips me apart. I was so close to losing her, if we had gotten here moments later. Fuck. I can’t let myself go there. She’s breathing. She’s alive. She’s going to be okay.
Sitting next to Ivy’s hospital bed waiting for her to wake up is fucking torture. She managed to stay awake through the ride in the ambulance, but crashed immediately after the doctor did his exam once we were at the hospital. Her throat is going to be okay, just minor swelling, and will heal with ibuprofen and warm liquids. Her neck and cheek are slightly bruised and the cut on her lip has been cleaned. It fucking kills me to see her like this. Physically, she’ll bounce back. It’s the emotional, mental part that has my stomach in knots. I’m prepared to support her in whatever she needs.
I gently stroke her hair and watch her sleep, my beautiful, perfect butterfly. My heart aches painfully as I look over her face, her eyes closed in peaceful sleep, the thin, gold chain of her lion necklace resting around her collarbone. I put it back on her while she was sleeping, hopefully giving her the reminder she needs that she can face anything and come out on top.
I pull out my phone to update my family, not bothering to read the dozens of missed texts and phone calls.
Me: She’s resting. Doctor said she’ll be discharged once she wakes up.
Liam: What can we do? What do you need?
Dallas: Let us know once you’re home and settled
Carter: Glad she’s going to be okay
Kins: Thank fuck. How is she?
Me: She’s going to be okay physically. Time will tell about the rest.
Me: I don’t know what to fucking do. I’ve never felt like this before. What if this fucked her up so bad she runs? I won’t fucking survive it.
Carter: You sure as shit don’t lay down and wallow. You two are meant to be together. I see that now. So get your shit together and be there for her. She won’t run so don’t even go there.
Liam: Wow. Was not expecting that from him
Dallas: Yeah. Damn man. Where you been hiding?
Kins: Carter’s right. Don’t go there. You two will get through this. She’s not going to leave you. She’s going to need you so buck up
Liam: I’ll text Mom and Dad and update them. You've got this.
I wipe a stray tear from my eye and look over at Reid, who’s lying sprawled out on the tiny couch in her room. Once the ambulance arrived, they checked out Ivy and put her on a stretcher to transport her to the hospital. Reid stayed and handled the police. Once we got Ivy into her own room, Reid showed up. He patted me on the back, looked Ivy over, and then laid down on the couch and closed his eyes, essentially giving us privacy without giving us privacy. He wakes, sits up, and looks me over, taking in my shitty appearance and the agony that’s written all over my face.
“He’s dead. You didn’t kill him. Just move on and take care of her. Got it?”
I don’t ask for further explanation. None is needed. I know him and I get it. If the tables were turned and I had his history, I’d have done the same thing.
We are discharged shortly after Ivy wakes up. Reid walks with us into the parking garage and it occurs to me I don’t know how the hell I’m getting her home.
“Here.” Reid holds out the keys to my truck. “Your brothers.” I reach out and take the keys from him. We stand in front of his motorcycle and my truck and I don’t know what to say.
“Thank you doesn’t seem like a strong enough thing to say. But it’s all I can come up with right now. I’ll never forget it.”
“Just like I’ve never forgotten the shit you’ve gotten me out of. It’s what brothers do,” he says. I lean in and we give each other a big hug, then he turns to face Ivy.
“Thanks, Drogo. For all of it. Just, thank you for being there.” He glances at me and I know he’s silently asking for my permission, as if I have any worry about his loyalty to me, and feeling like an ass for ever questioning it. I give him a nod anyway and he takes a step forward to pull my girl into a big hug. She returns it, and instead of jealousy, I just feel fucking grateful. Grateful she’s got people who love her, that she’s alive, and safe, and grateful that now, she’s finally free.
We part ways with Reid and I drive us home with Ivy in the middle, resting her head on my shoulder, the stick shift between her spread legs. I told her she’d be uncomfortable, but she said she just needed to be close to me. I get us home and park out front, pulling her out of the truck and setting her on her feet. Clasping her hand in mine, we walk together into the house, the smell of warm apples and cinnamon immediately assaulting my nose.
“Mmm. Muffins,” she says as she releases my hand and walks through the entryway and into the kitchen. There she finds a tray filled with warm apple cinnamon muffins, a case of Elysian Bifrost, and bouquets of flowers on almost every surface of the living space.
“Who did all of this?” she asks me.
“Fuck if I know,” I answer honestly.
She walks to each bouquet and pulls off the cards, reading them aloud as she goes.
“Dallas. Hannah, Charlie, and Ms. Nettie. Your parents. Kinsey. Luna. Barrel House family. Carter. Liam. Dom. Zoe . . . Zoe’s says, ‘The only reason I’m not there is because Dallas assured me you were okay and that you just needed sleep, but if you don’t call me within twenty-four hours, I’m showing up.’” She laughs before looking around at all the flowers and then down at her little pile of cards. “Sawyer. This. I don’t. Wow.” I laugh at her lack of ability to form a complete thought.
“I told you you were loved, baby. Believe me now?”
“I guess I have to.”
She walks up to me and wraps her arms around my waist, resting her head on my chest. I rub her upper arms, careful not to press too hard around the finger bruises from where she was hurt. “Shower with me? Please,” she asks me.
I bend down and scoop her into my arms bridal style and carry her down the hall to the master bathroom before setting her down gently while I turn the water on and let it heat up. I undress her slowly, pulling her shirt over her head and watching as her hair lifts and falls back down onto her body. She watches as I unclasp her bra and drop it to the floor. I move to pull her leggings down next, hooking my fingers into the waist and dragging them down her legs. I squat in front of her as she lifts each foot while I free her from their confines. Then I undress myself, reaching back and pulling my shirt off, I quickly drop my pants and kick them to the pile of our clothes on the floor. Placing my hand under the stream of water and testing the temperature before I step in, I pull her by the hand to join me. I line her up so that the shower beats down on her back and wrap my arms around her waist.
“I love you, baby.”
“I love you too,” she responds.
“Lean back, let me get your hair wet.” She tilts her head back into the spray and I use my hands to move her hair around, letting the water soak it. I turn her to face the water while I lather her hair in shampoo, massaging her scalp and taking my time before rinsing her and repeating with the conditioner. I squirt her body wash into her loofah before working it into a bubbly lather and slowly washing her body, rubbing over each of her shoulders and down her arms, under them and down her sides, curving over her hips. I kneel at her feet and wash each of her legs, lifting them to clean her feet. I stand and rinse out the loofah before running my hands over her body and rinsing the soap from her. She hums her appreciation the entire time, but otherwise we stay silent. I quickly run some soap over my body and rinse before taking her back in my arms and letting the hot water hit her until it starts to run cold. I flip the water off and reach out to grab a towel before wrapping her in it and then myself. Grabbing her brush in one hand, I lead her to the bedroom where I sit her between my legs and brush through her long locks, being careful to start from the bottom and work my way up so that I don’t hurt her. We sit in comfortable silence, neither of us feeling the need to speak. Once done, I remove both of our towels and pull back the sheet and blanket and we climb under them. Pulling her into me, I hold her until we both fall fast asleep. Content, relieved, and happy to have her with me, breathing and living.