Chapter 38-Bit
The shower feels good. Perfect.
Steam wraps around me, thick and hot, until it’s all I can see.
My body hums with exhaustion, the sting of adrenaline fading into a dull ache.
Every drop of water that runs down my skin feels like it’s rinsing away the fear, the dirt, the noise.
The cut on my hand is much smaller than I expected. It stopped bleeding sometime on the drive home, and Sawyer had cleaned it for me with the first-aid kit in the SUV.
Still, I washed it out again with antibiotic soap before getting in the shower. If I never see a gas station bathroom again, it’ll be too soon.
I lean my forehead against the tile wall and close my eyes.
It’s over. Roach’s gone. And I’m home.
Sawyer had things to discuss with the guys, and I told myself I’d wait for him to shower. But I couldn’t.
Not one more second with the smell of dirty gas station and gunpowder in my hair.
I’m not sure how long I’ve been standing under the spray—long after the suds have swirled down the drain and my fingertips have gone pink from the heat—when I hear it.
The click of the lock.
The slow turn of the knob.
And I know.
He’s here.
Something inside me loosens all at once. My lungs finally work again.
He doesn’t say a word as he steps in. I turn, watching him through the mist.
Sawyer’s movements are quiet, deliberate.
He’s changed into sweats, and he’s pushing them down his body.
His hair is still damp from what I assume was a quick rinse downstairs, but his eyes? They’re dark and storm-heavy when they find me.
He steps under the water beside me, and suddenly the world shrinks to the sound of it hitting tile.
I reach for the washcloth. I don’t even think—my hands move on their own.
A few pumps of his soap, the scent of cedar and something clean, and then I’m smoothing it over his skin.
He lets me.
Doesn’t speak. Doesn’t move.
Just stands there, breathing in slow, steady pulls as I wash him.
The rough planes of his shoulders. The curve of his neck. The strong arms that carried me away from hell itself.
My hands shake, but he doesn’t stop me.
This isn’t about need or want—it’s about something deeper.
I need to do this. To care for him. To make sure he’s real, whole, alive.
When I work the shampoo through his hair, his eyes close.
My throat tightens.
There’s soap, water, skin, and the hum of something too big for words.
Only when he’s rinsed clean, when I’m trembling from the inside out, does he finally move.
He reaches for me, pulls me against him, and my world falls right back into place.
“Christ, I was so scared,” he whispers, voice rough from holding it in too long. “Never letting you out of my sight again.”
“Good,” I manage between shaky breaths, pressing my face into his chest. “I don’t wanna be outta your sight.”
He holds me there, his heartbeat pounding against my ear like it’s trying to sync with mine.
“Tell me,” he says after a long silence. “Tell me everything that happened while I was gone.”
So I do.
I tell him about Artist’s Alley and how I got accepted, about how I’ve been sketching and sewing, about how I wanted to surprise him with the news.
I tell him about my mom calling, about how she still knows exactly how to make me feel small.
About Angie and Diego and Alex—how good they’ve been to me.
He grumbles at Alex’s name, and I laugh for the first time in what feels like days. The sound cracks something open between us.
Then I tell him the truth. The whole truth.
How I knew I loved him days ago.
How, when Roach broke in, all I could think about was him.
How I wasn’t scared for myself—just for the people I love. For him.
How sorry I am to have brought all this badness down on him. How I know I’m lucky he’s letting me stay—but he growls at that.
Sawyer pulls back just enough to look at me, his gaze fierce and raw.
“Don’t you ever say that,” he growls. “This is your home. I’m your home, Lil Bit and you belong right here with me. You are everything to me. But I’ll do better. I won’t let anything touch you again.”
My hands slide up his chest, resting over his heart.
“You don’t have to do better, Sawyer. You already said you love me. That’s all I need.”
He studies me, eyes burning. “Is it?”
I swallow, the air thick between us. “Not really.”
His breath hitches, his hand coming up to cradle my jaw. “What else do you need, Lil Bit?”
I meet his gaze, my voice barely a whisper.
“I need you to show me.”
The space between us disappears.
The water falls around us like rain.
And when he finally bends his head, everything else—fear, pain, the entire world—melts away.