Chapter 30 Sawyer
SAWYER
“Respect the rule, I said.”
Thunk.
“Don’t engage, I said.”
Thunk.
“Stay detached, I fucking said.”
Crack!
My axe finally finds its way deep into the large log. I toss the axe aside and dig my hands into the fissure to rip it apart myself. I’m so full of adrenaline right now, it splinters almost immediately.
I can’t do anything right. I wanted her hands on me more than anything, and it took all my strength to stop what was happening, but that was still the wrong move because, clearly, I embarrassed her. The problem was, I remembered her one-time rule, and I had to stop things from going further.
But fuck, here I am trying to make us something we aren’t anyway. Playing games like we’re a couple, kissing her like I’m allowed to, putting my hands on her body as if she’s mine.
But she isn’t.
She isn’t mine, and she doesn’t want to be mine.
Especially after what just happened. I’ll be lucky if she’ll still look at me.
Blistering rage boils me from the inside as I drive my axe into another log. I’m sweating despite the freezing temperature. I strip off my jacket, toss it onto the porch steps.
Crouching, I shove my hands into the opening of the log, and I don’t let go until I feel it give under my pressure, slowly coming apart for me in one satisfying yawn before both halves tumble to the ground.
I pick up one of the halves, orienting it on its face, and do it all over again.
Chop.
Pull.
Toss.
Chop, pull, toss.
ChopPullToss.
When I have a haphazard tower of wood, I feel no better than before. Brie’s pained face as she stumbled to her feet before running inside flashes into my mind.
She’s probably in the bathroom right now—oh shit. I realize with a jolt I’ve been out here ruminating this whole time when she probably ran right in without grabbing any clothes for herself. I abandon the wood, and head inside.
The dryer dings at the same time I walk into the laundry room.
I rake all the clothes into a basket, pulling out her pants, her sweater—I hesitate before reaching for her bra and adding it to the growing pile.
Finally, her underwear. I sewed them back together, though she’ll probably throw them out after this.
The panties are innocent, pink with white polka dots, but handling them makes my dick swell in my pants because they belong to Brie.
This piece of fabric has hugged her ass, rubbed her pussy, gotten soaked by her.
I close my eyes and give myself a stern talking-to.
Brie will never want you the same way you want her. Get a fucking grip.
Outside the bathroom, when I don’t hear the shower running, I rap lightly on the door.
It opens a crack, and one wary brown eye peeks out.
“I brought your clothes.” I hand her the pile, with a few things of mine on top. Not because I’m hoping she comes out in another one of my shirts, but for comfort.
And because I want to see her in another one of my shirts.
The door opens wider, and I drink in the sight. Her hair is damp. Bare legs and feet. The only thing she wears is a towel, held tight with one hand at her chest. A bead of water trickles down her neck, and I want to lick it.
She moves to the side, letting me in. “Thanks.” She won’t meet my eyes.
I step inside just enough to lay the heap on the counter, but I stop short when I take in a breath. I know all the products in here. Brie used what I use every day. But it’s different somehow, and it smells so good.
Nope.
Turning stiffly, I tip my imaginary hat in her direction and exit the bathroom, closing the door behind me.
Then proceed to tug at my hair when I realize I gave her a hat tip.
I have no chill when it comes to Brie Casey. I turn into a drooling idiot around her, and honestly? I’m not even ashamed.
But I do have to control myself. I know how this town operates, and there’s no way the roads’ll be drivable even by tomorrow.
I’ve got to keep my hands to myself from now on.
It’s the respectful thing to do, and it’ll keep me from being completely destroyed when this is all over and Brie remembers who she was stuck with.
Defeated, I go back outside to bring in my jacket and some wood for the fireplace. I busy myself with building a fire, only looking up when the door to the bathroom opens again.