As fresh shame and old frustration bubble up, I push past him and take the final steps to the front door.
Chapter twenty-seven
Mercer
I’m physically, mentally, and emotionally wrecked by the time we finally get into the house.
I was almost asleep when Tytus called Noah, lulled into a listless trance fueled by depression, self-loathing, a few drinks, and weed.
The adrenaline that rushed through me when he put the phone on speaker so I could hear both sides of the conversation has since waned. I’m so exhausted I could fall asleep standing up. It was tempting to drift off on the way back, but I thought it best to stay awake for Noah.
Most of what’s transpired tonight has been a nightmare.
And yet…
Sawyer’s here. She’s safe. She didn’t shut me out or turn her back on me once she realized I was with Noah and Tremblay.
Her willingness to let me in may be temporary and drug-induced, but I’m so far gone I don’t even care.
I’ll take her any way I can have her, in any way she’s willing to let me in.
Tonight? In the back of the truck? I couldn’t have dreamed she’d let me touch her like that again. She told me she fucking needed me. She was beyond despair when I tried to give her and Tremblay privacy.
Still, I’m shrouded in fear that she’ll regret it all—or worse, not even recall the encounter—once she wakes up tomorrow.
I’m determined not to let that happen. I’m ready to give it my all, starting with caring for her to the best of my abilities tonight.
Once we’re over the threshold, I arch a brow at Tremblay, and when he nods, I release him and step away slowly.
Then I turn to Noah, who’s still holding a sleeping Sawyer in his arms. “Take her to my room.”
He looks from me to Tremblay, then back again.
I know what he’s thinking.
The boy isn’t going to leave her side.
I’m well aware.
My deadpan stare should inform him of such.
“You’re sure?” he questions, his focus flitting to Tremblay once more.
“There’s too much risk for any of us carrying her up the stairs.”
Tremblay snorts.
“My room is familiar,” I continue. “If she wakes up disoriented, it’ll be easier if she’s in a place she recognizes. When she needs water or food, we’re closer to the kitchen.”
Noah’s jaw clenches tighter the longer I talk, but eventually he relents and nods.
He kicks off his boots and leaves them in the foyer, then starts down the hall.
“I’ll lock up.” I turn to the alarm panel and activate the alarms. When I turn back, I come face to face with Tremblay.
He’s taller than me, probably around Noah’s height. His arms are massive, and his shoulders are so broad it looks like he’s got padding on under his T-shirt. I don’t know much more than the basics of hockey, but it’s clear he’d be a formidable adversary on the ice.
“I’m not leaving her side,” he declares, defensiveness dripping from every word.
