I opened my mouth to say just that, and he cut me off. “And before you start going on about fucking up other people’s lives…” He stood and joined me at the railing. “They worry about you because they love you, and they love you because you areworthloving.”
Sawyer never varnished the truth, especially not with a couple of beers in him. And he didn’t give his good opinion easily.
“The only thing people find lovable about me is the fact that I can run around on stage like a crazy person and scream into a microphone.”
Sawyer finished his beer and set the empty bottle at his feet. Shaking his head, he said, “The running around and screaming may have gotten people’s attention, but if that’s all you did, we’d get bored of you pretty quickly. You’re not just some loudmouth who runs up and down the football field in a coyote mascot outfit. You’re also the guy who steps in and bails people out of jail, who supports build projects in the small town that mostly rejected you.”
I shrugged. “That’s easy. It’s just money.”
“Fine. You wanna talk about hard? You flew from the opposite side of the world to come here for Mr. Paige’s funeral—knowing you’d have to fly right back, drive two hours to your next venue, and perform for thousands of people. And you did it without hesitation.”
“That’s because it was Mr. Paige.”
“Sure, Mr. Paige was special. But nobody, not even Mr. Paige himself, would have expected it of you. That’s why we love you. It’s not about the loud, physical stuff, Hen. It’s always beenabout who you are underneath. The things you do when you don’t think anyone’s looking.”
I’d noticed he only called me Hen when he was saying something he really wanted me to hear. I took a deep breath, enjoying the buzz of alcohol as he wrapped an arm around my waist.
“If you don’t wanna scream into a microphone anymore, then don’t,” he said against my ear, sending electricity out across my skin. “People will still want to hear you because your kind of authenticity cannot be manufactured.” Another tear fell, and he kissed it. “I didn’t mean to make you cry.”
I shifted my eyes to his. “I’m not the only one who steps in and helps people. You do it all the time.”
“That’s how I take care of the people I love.” His lips brushed my temple. “I support them, I nag them, I make them drink tea and eat healthy foods, and I arrange for people to look after them when I’m away.”
His words, even said jokingly, stitched together another part of my heart I hadn’t realized was broken. I leaned into his touch. “So, you love me?” I asked, my voice slurred from exhaustion and alcohol.
“Of course I do,” he said softly.
If pressed, Sawyer would no doubt say he was talking about a friend’s love, and then change the subject. With my mother’s and Ozzie’s words still ringing in my ears, though, I no longer believed that his love for me was limited to brotherhood.
I wondered briefly how it’d feel to let him love me. I’d avoided catching or causing feelings for years, and I didn’t know how towrap my head around a love that had survived for so long in the dark. A love for me, specifically.
I took a deep breath, a sort of shuddering inhale. I might have been slightly more than buzzed, but the warmth of the alcohol mixed with the warmth of his body was heaven. He tightened his grip, and I wondered if I should…
I turned in his hold and stretched up, placing a gentle kiss on his lips. My senses were dulled by the beers, but I was surprised—and maybe a little hurt—when he drew his chin back, looking down at me with confusion in his eyes.
“Hendrix?” he asked, his voice gone a little funny.
“Sorry,” I said, trying to step away from his embrace.
“Wait. Don’t go.”
Seconds passed as we held each other, daring to look into each other’s eyes. Then Sawyer wrapped his hand around the back of my head, drawing me in for another kiss. This wasn’t one of his pushy, domineering kisses. It was at once soft and deep.
The way he held me told me things his words never did. And I needed…more. More of what, I couldn’t quite pin down, but this was not enough. Once again, a thought tapped at the inside of my skull. I couldn’t keep ignoring it.
I needed the real Sawyer for this to work, though.
“Would you make love to me?” I asked, running my fingertips through his hair, worried I was asking for too much.
“Hendrix…”
“Shut off the Agnes part of your brain for a second. I just… I need this,” I said, a suddenwantbleeding into my words. “I don’tneed Dom Sawyer tonight. I need someone who loves me. You keep telling me that I’m worthy of love, but I need tofeelit.”
“Hendrix, I don’t think you know what you’re asking for.” For the first time in all the years I’d known him, Sawyer looked truly afraid.
“I know exactly what I’m asking for. I’ve been fucked by half the world, and none of those experiences felt nearly as dangerous as asking someone to make love to me. But you’re the safest person I know.”
“We have a friendship to consider,” he said, trying to retreat with his words as his body swayed toward mine. “Changing our dynamic in bed could fuck that up.”
