Sawyer gives me one last look before joining them, the low murmur of their voices quickly turning into a full-blown strategy session.
I hover near the stairs, then I take them to the bedroom we share, hands trembling as I scroll through my phone.
Kristie’s name lights up the screen.
My heart squeezes.
I shouldn’t drag her into this—not after everything she’s been through with Rooster, not when she finally seems happy again.
But Roach showing up?That changes everything.
I type a text out fast:
BIT
The Heathen?Roach?He showed up today.At the rodeo.We’re okay.Sawyer’s handling it.Just wanted you to know.
I stare at the message for a full minute before hitting send.
Then I set the phone down, exhale, and realize I can’t stop shaking.My skin feels too tight, like I’m still sitting in that damn tent with his eyes crawling all over me.
I need to wash this off.All of it.
The adrenaline.The fear.The reminder that my past doesn’t want to stay buried.
So, I slip quietly down the hall to the bathroom.
Steam fills the air within minutes, curling around me as I step under the spray.
The water hits hot and sharp, burning away the chill that’s sunk deep into my bones.
I close my eyes and let it run over me until the trembling starts to fade.
But I don’t hear him come in.
Not until the door clicks softly shut behind him.
“It’s me,” Sawyer’s voice rumbles low, the kind of sound that vibrates through my chest.
I turn, startled, water streaming down my body and face as he pulls the shower curtain back.
He’s still in his jeans and T-shirt, hair mussed from running his hands through it, his eyes dark and searching.
“Didn’t mean to scare you,” he says quietly, stepping closer.“Just couldn’t, couldn’t sit out there anymore.Needed to see you.”
I swallow hard.
“You done with your meeting?”
“For now.”His gaze sweeps over me, not lustful—something deeper.Possessive.Protective.“Didn’t want to leave you alone with your thoughts.You shouldn’t have to face that shit alone, Lil Bit.You won’t have to face it alone.Not anymore.”
“I wasn’t alone,” I whisper.“You were there.And you’re still here.”
He exhales, rough and heavy.Then he reaches out, brushing a wet lock of hair from my face.
“Yeah, I was.And I’m not going anywhere.”
When he steps under the spray, fully clothed, I don’t protest.
