Chapter 53

CHAPTER FIFTY-THREE

Sawyer paced in his living room, glancing out the window every few minutes like a restless caged animal. He hadn’t seen Brynlee in almost a week—not since she’d been released from the hospital. The memory of her pale, bruised face as she hobbled into her duplex was seared into his mind, and it gnawed at him every day. He couldn’t stand it anymore, the not knowing, the helplessness.

Her family came and went, but their visits were always brief. A car would pull up, a figure would disappear inside, and not long after, they’d be gone, leaving Brynlee alone again. It was as if she was pulling herself deeper and deeper into a shell, and no one could reach her.

Every morning, he’d check the backyard, hoping to see her outside, hoping for some sign of life. But all he found were her flowers, once vibrant and full of color, now withering and dying. He’d tried to care for them, watering them when he could, but he wasn’t sure it made a difference. They seemed as lifeless as Brynlee had become.

His patience was wearing thin. She was shutting herself off from the world, and it was killing him to watch it happen. He knew she was hurting, but the longer she stayed hidden away, the more he feared she’d never come back. The thought of losing her—truly losing her—was unbearable.

By the time the sun had dipped low in the sky, casting long shadows across the yard, Sawyer had made up his mind. He couldn’t just sit and wait any longer. Fuck it. If Brynlee wouldn’t come to him, he’d go to her.

Less than a minute later he found himself at her back door. This time, he didn’t bother knocking. He hesitated only briefly before reaching for his lock-picking kit, an old skill he’d picked up years ago. He knew it was a breach of trust, but he couldn’t shake the feeling that she needed him more than she needed her privacy right now.

The lock gave way with a soft click, and he pushed the door open, then stepped inside. The house was eerily quiet, the air heavy with the scent of lavender and something else—something that made his stomach turn with worry. The curtains were drawn tight, blocking out any hint of daylight, leaving the room shrouded in shadows.

His heart pounded as he moved through the house, his footsteps muffled by the thick carpet. The living room was dark, the only light coming from the flicker of the television, casting a dim glow across the room. And there, on the couch, curled up in a ball, was Brynlee.

She was wrapped in a blanket, her body hidden beneath layers of pajamas, her face pale against the dark fabric. But it wasn’t her appearance that stopped him in his tracks—it was her hair. It was bright pink, a shocking, vibrant color that stood out in the gloom.

Sawyer’s breath caught in his throat. Brynlee had always had a flair for the dramatic, but this… this was different. This was a cry for help.

He forced himself to act calm, to keep his voice steady. “What the hell happened to you, Bryn? You look like a Troll doll.”

Her eyes snapped open, the fire in them unmistakable despite the shadows under her eyes. “Fuck you, Sawyer,” she spat, her voice hoarse.

Sawyer bit back the urge to soften his tone, to tell her everything would be okay. Instead, he pushed her, knowing she needed to release whatever was boiling inside. “Is this your grand plan? Lock yourself away, let everything fall apart, and pretend like it doesn’t matter?”

She glared at him, sitting up slowly, her movements sluggish and heavy. “You don’t know anything about what I’m going through.”

“Maybe not,” he shot back, taking a step closer. “But I know this isn’t you. You’re not the type to hide, Bryn. You’re stronger than this. Why the hell won’t you fight?”

She swung at him then, and her hand connected with his cheek, the slap echoing through the small space. “I hate you!”

“Stop acting like a damn coward!” he goaded her.

A scream of rage welled up her throat as she launched herself forward and pummeled his chest. Her eyes filled with tears, and she tried to blink them away, but it was too late. The walls she’d built around herself began to crumble, and she finally broke.

Sawyer caught her as she collapsed into his arms, sobs wracking her body. She buried her face in his chest, her fingers clutching at his shirt as if he was the only thing keeping her from drowning.

He held her tight, his hand stroking her back in soothing circles as he whispered in her ear. “I’m here, honey. I’m always here.”

Brynlee’s sobs finally quieted, leaving only the sound of their breathing, the echo of her pain lingering between them. The room was still, the air heavy with unspoken words and raw emotion. Sawyer held her close, feeling the rapid thud of her heart against his chest, matching the frantic beat of his own.

He wasn’t sure who moved first—whether it was him leaning down or her reaching up—but the next thing he knew, Brynlee’s lips were on his, her hands gripping the back of his neck as if she couldn’t bear to let go. The kiss was desperate, fueled by everything they’d been holding back, a collision of anger, sadness, and something far more primal.

Sawyer let her take control, surrendering to the force of her need. This wasn’t the time for questions or doubts. Brynlee needed this—needed him—and he was powerless to deny her. Her fingers tangled in his hair, pulling him down to her, and he followed willingly, their bodies pressed together in a fevered embrace.

They stumbled toward the bedroom, the path familiar yet charged with a new urgency. Clothes were shed in hurried motions, discarded carelessly onto the floor as they lost themselves in each other. There was no finesse, no slow build-up—just a fast and frantic coming together, a release of all the pent-up emotion that had been simmering beneath the surface.

Sawyer felt her nails dig into his back, the sting grounding him in the whirlwind of sensations. Her breaths came in quick gasps, mixing with his own as they moved together, the intensity of it all almost too much to bear. But he didn’t stop, couldn’t stop, until finally, they reached the edge together, collapsing into each other as the tension shattered and left them spent.

They lay tangled in the sheets, both exhausted and sated, the remnants of their passion still crackling in the air. Sawyer held her tight, his arms wrapped around her as if he could keep her safe from everything that threatened to tear her apart. He didn’t want to let go, didn’t want to lose this moment, this connection that felt so fragile and yet so vital.

She was nestled against his chest, her head resting just below his chin, her breathing slowly returning to normal. He could feel the dampness of her hair against his skin, the vivid pink strands a stark contrast to the darkness that surrounded them.

“You really do look like a Troll,” he murmured, his voice thick with affection.

Brynlee snorted, her hand reaching up to playfully tug at the hair on his chest. “You’re such an ass.”

“Ow!” Sawyer couldn’t help but smile as he untangled her fingers and pressed a kiss to the top of her head. “I didn’t say it was a bad thing. You know, I always thought the pink one was the cutest.”

She huffed a laugh, the sound soft and real, and it was like a balm to his soul. Sawyer held Brynlee close, his arms wrapped around her protectively, as if he could shield her from the horrors that had already passed. Her body trembled slightly, and he could feel the tension in her muscles, like she was bracing herself for something.

“It’s only temporary,” she murmured. “I just… I couldn’t just go on like nothing happened.”

She sighed deeply, pulling away just enough to look up at him. Her eyes were red-rimmed, the remnants of tears clinging to her lashes. But there was a new determination in her gaze, a need to unburden herself, and Sawyer knew better than to interrupt.

Brynlee swallowed hard, her fingers nervously twisting the edge of the sheet. “Blonde hair, blue eyes. I fit his type perfectly.” Her voice cracked, and she blinked back tears. “After everything, I just couldn’t stand it. I had to change. I had to do something drastic to feel like I had some control.”

Sawyer’s heart ached as he listened to her. He hadn’t realized the depth of her trauma, the way it had seeped into every aspect of her life, forcing her to take drastic measures just to feel safe again. He reached out, brushing a strand of her newly pink hair behind her ear, his touch gentle, reassuring.

“I thought if I changed my hair, maybe… maybe I wouldn’t feel so vulnerable,” she continued, her voice gaining strength as she spoke. “Maybe it would erase what happened.”

Sawyer remained silent, letting her speak, knowing she needed to get it all out.

Her voice grew softer, haunted. “I remember being in that basement. It was so cold… I thought I was going to die down there.”

Sawyer’s chest tightened as her words cut through him. He could see the fear in her eyes, the way the memory of it all still had a hold on her. She was trying so hard to be strong, but the weight of what she had endured was too much for anyone to bear alone.

“I was so scared, Sawyer. He made me watch… Him and Fallon… It was awful. And I felt so relieved when he didn’t… ” Tears welled up in Brynlee’s eyes, and her voice broke as she continued. “But then I felt guilty, too, because… He hurt her so badly. I can still hear it…”

Another shiver racked her body. “All I could think about was getting out, getting us away from there. I thought… I thought I’d never see you again.”

That last admission shattered something inside Sawyer. He pulled her back into his arms, holding her as tightly as he could without hurting her. He could feel the shudders running through her, the way she clung to him as if he were the only thing keeping her from falling apart.

“I’m so sorry, Bryn,” he whispered, his voice thick with emotion. “I should have been there. I should have?—”

“No,” she interrupted, shaking her head against his chest. “This isn’t your fault. None of it is. You saved me. You got me out of there.”

Sawyer felt helpless, the agony of her pain cutting through him like a knife. He wished he could go back in time, do something—anything—to spare her from what she’d endured. But all he could do now was hold her, keep her close, and let her know she wasn’t alone.

“I’m here,” he murmured, pressing his lips to the top of her head. “I’ll always be here, Bryn. You don’t have to go through this alone.”

Brynlee’s tears slid free, her body trembling in his arms. He stroked her hair, feeling the unfamiliar texture of the dye beneath his fingertips, a reminder of the lengths she’d gone to in an attempt to reclaim some sense of control.

“It doesn’t matter what color your hair is,” he whispered. “You’re still you. You’re still Brynlee, and you’re stronger than you know.”

She didn’t respond, but she didn’t need to. The way she relaxed against him, the way her breathing slowly evened out, told him that, for now, she felt safe.

And that was all he wanted—to give her that small piece of peace in a world that had tried so hard to take it away from her.