I take a deep breath, open the Venmo app and send her the money.
Next, I swipe the smudge of charcoal off my hand, and turn back to my sketchbook.
Because no matter what she says, no matter how much she tries to drag me back into her chaos?—
I’m not her.
And Sawyer isn’t like anyone she’s ever known.
He’s not a mistake waiting to happen.
He’s a chance.
And I’m not wasting it.
Still, my hand trembles when I pick up the pencil again.I draw a heart in the margin, shade it in until it’s dark and solid.Then, just beneath it, I write his name.
Sawyer.
Because he’s the only thing tonight that makes me feel safe—and for the first time in a long time, that feels like something worth believing in.
Chapter 30-Sawyer
The delivery goes smooth.
No roadblocks.
No tailing bikes.
Not even a whisper of the Hellbound crew.
I shake hands with the foreman, get the paperwork signed, and head out to the truck.
The desert air burns hot against my skin, the scent of dust and oil mixing with the faint memory of Bit’s shampoo.
She calls me tonight like she has every night since I left.
Her voice does something to me.
Cuts straight through the noise in my head and settles me in a way nothing else can.
“Hey, cowboy,” she says, and I can hear the sadness behind the smile in her voice.“You made it there alright?”
“Yeah, Sweetheart.Delivery went smooth.You and Angie doin’ alright?”
“We’re fine.Don’t worry about us.”
That’s all she says, but I can picture her perfectly—barefoot, wearing my shirt, curled up on the couch under that quilt she made, looking like she belongs there.
Like she’s always belonged there.
She has.
I tell her I’ll be home soon.
She tells me to drive safe.
And when we hang up, the silence feels heavier than the desert night.
