“And you don’t,” I say.
“No,” he agrees. “Because we name it. Clint says when he’s feeling territorial. Reid admits when he’s scared of being the least necessary. I say when I’m spiraling in my head instead of trusting what’s in front of me.”
I exhale slowly.
“That doesn’t make it easy,” Sawyer adds. “It makes it honest.”
I stare at the condensation ring my beer has left on the table. “What if one of you wants more than the others?”
Sawyer doesn’t dodge it. “Then we talk about that too. Wanting more isn’t the same as taking more. And love isn’t pie. Nobody’s getting a smaller slice just because someone else is hungry.”
That hits harder than I expect.
“Clint worried at first that he’d lose authority,” Sawyer goes on. “He’s used to being the one people lean on. Turns out, lettinggo of being the only pillar didn’t make him weaker. It let him breathe.”
“And Reid?” I ask.
Sawyer smiles. “Reid needed to know he wasn’t just there for fun. That when things got heavy, we still wanted him. Dakota made that clear. Repeatedly.”
“And you?”
He shrugs. “I needed proof that stability wasn’t boring. That choosing the same people every day could still feel like discovery.”
I glance toward the bar again without meaning to. Abilene’s posture is looser now, one shoulder dropped, laughter easier.
Still processing. Always processing.
“What if she gets overwhelmed?” I ask quietly.
Sawyer follows my gaze this time, softer. “Then you slow down. This only works if she feels safe enough to say no. Or not yet. Or I need something different today.”
“That doesn’t sound like a lot of control,” I mutter.
“It isn’t,” he agrees. “That’s the point.”
Silence settles between us, thick but not uncomfortable.
“Marshall,” Sawyer says finally, “you’re not afraid of sharing her.”
I look at him.
“You’re afraid of hurting her,” he finishes. “Of losing her like…”
My jaw tightens as he trails off, not mentioning Luke, much to my relief.
“And that,” he says gently, “is actually a good place to start.”
A few minutes later, I see Abilene slip outside, likely in search of air. My body reacts before my brain signs off on it.
I stand.
Sawyer doesn’t stop me. He just nods. “Go.”
I find her near the side of the building, arms folded, gaze tipped up toward the stars.
“Hey,” I say.
She turns, smiles. That quiet one.
