Page 60 of Almost Ravaged (Men of Evercrisp Orchard #1)

Chapter fifty-one

Sawyer

T he back of my hand brushes Noah’s as we walk through the vista. Despite being bundled up in his sweatshirt and a flannel, a shiver rolls through me.

It’s the cold morning air, yes, but along with that, it’s the visceral way this man affects me.

Not that I’m complaining.

I’ve always been an early riser, and the fresh air, as well as the pull of my muscles as we stride through the grass, soothes me in a way I desperately need.

I should probably look into a yoga or a stretching class this weekend. Being chased, caught, and ravaged in a cornfield pushed my body to its limits.

Another shiver runs through me at the memory.

From the showdown in the barn to the chase through the maze. From the brutal fucking in the dirt to the most gentle, compassionate aftercare I’ve ever received. To my kiss with Noah in the bathroom to making love with Mercer in the dark.

Last night was perfect. Last night was everything.

I can’t wait to do it again. With both of them .

Shiloh nudges my right hand as she trots alongside me, begging for my attention, and I oblige, scratching her head in acknowledgment.

“I’m sorry we got distracted and didn’t make it out here last night,” I tell Noah.

He had said he wanted to wrap the new hive in tar paper as a precaution. That idea never stood a chance once I took off in the corn maze.

He grunts. “Don’t apologize. I wouldn’t change a thing about it.”

My chest warms. Noah is so reserved with his feelings and his words. He’s the opposite of Mercer in that sense. But when he does open up to me, I hang on every word.

Our knuckles brush again as we take the slope toward the apiary. This time, he laces his fingers with mine.

When he squeezes once, a sense of security rises inside me. I really am okay with taking it slow with him.

Mercer’s directness and his ease with communication means that with him, I’m never left wondering or worrying.

His affection and predictability allow me the stability I need to let this connection with Noah grow at a slower pace.

What we are and what we’re doing aren’t clear or defined, but it’s real.

As we reach our destination, we’re surrounded by light buzzing.

The bees are already hard at work.

Noah sighs beside me, his face set in a look of genuine contentment. Like here, among the bees, he can finally, fully exhale.

“Let’s see how they’re doing.”

He guides me to the new hive, distinguished by its color and newer appearance among the other twenty or so structures.

I cup a hand over my eyes, shielding them from the sun—immediately missing its warmth on my face—and scan the box and the surrounding area. Everything looks okay to my untrained eye. Until I discover one bee lying on the lip of the hive entrance.

Eyes stinging, I blink away tears. The pit in my stomach grows bigger, darker, deeper as I take two more steps and sink to my knees.

“Oh no.”

She’s lifeless. Dead. Because I distracted him.

He was going to come out here last night. He knew they needed to be wrapped. But then I had to go and —

“Sawyer.”

I force my head up and suck in a shuddering breath.

He’s on his knees beside me, his expression tender, eyebrows pulled together in concern.

Tentatively, he smooths my hair away from my face and cups my jaw, sweeping his thumb over the apple of my cheek, brushing away a tear I didn’t realize had fallen.

“Don’t worry, honey. Not all hope is lost. It never is.”

Sniffling, I look away. She’s dead. I know it’s a she because she was a worker bee. She survived the transition to the orchard and has been working hard to set up the new hive. She did everything right, but it didn’t matter in the end, because—

Noah growls, his grip tightening on my face. “Sawyer.” This time, my name is a command.

He licks his lips and lowers his mouth to mine in the sweetest, most tender kiss.

I’m wound too tight to respond right away. But as the seconds tick by and his kisses become more insistent, I open for him. Relax for him. Surrender to him.

Eventually, I kiss him back.

My heart hammers hard against my chest, but not out of anguish anymore.

“Good girl.” He shifts back slightly without dropping his hands from my face.

I open my mouth to argue, but when he gives me a stern shake of his head, I snap it shut again.

“You have to be calm out here, honey. They can sense your distress.” He swallows, making his Adam’s apple bob. “I can sense it, too. I hate it. Talk to me. What’s wrong?”

On a shuddering inhale, I focus on the damp grass soaking into my jeans and the sharp chill of the morning air on my tear-stained cheeks.

“She’s dead.” I press my lips together to prevent myself from adding “ because of me.”

“Maybe. Or maybe not.” He releases me. Then, with one hand cupped under the lip of the hive entrance, he uses the other to gently brush the bee into his palm.

The crack in my heart cleaves deeper. She looks so tiny and helpless in his hand. I squeeze my eyes shut, unable to look at her for a second longer.

“Hold out your hand, like this. ”

I force my eyes open. “What?”

He can’t actually expect me to hold her lifeless body.

“Bees will drop into a sort of resting state to conserve energy when they’re too cold. If we hadn’t found her, she probably would have woken on her own once the temperature rose a little more. But I can’t stand another second of your distress, so we can try to speed things along.”

My knuckles ache to be cracked, but I resist. Instead, I hold out one hand like he asked.

Noah turns her into my palm. Then he cups both hands around mine, brings them to his face, and breathes warm air against my skin.

He pulls back quickly, and we watch in anticipation.

Nothing happens.

She’s not moving.

She’s still dead.

“Patience, honey.” He bends lower and repeats the process.

“Loosen your hand. Don’t want her getting too much carbon dioxide.” The concern in his tone rockets my anxiety right back into the clouds.

I do as I’m told, my breaths choppy.

“Come on,” he murmurs, cradling my hand and using his breath to warm the air.

A low buzz vibrates through me as her life force returns.

Two seconds later, she moves more obviously. She’s awake.

I cry out. Tears once again prick at my eyes, but this time they’re tears of joy. I watch in delight as the bee fully comes to and takes flight.

“See?” He gives me a cocksure smile and cradles my jaw. “She just needed a little extra TLC.”

I don’t know who moves first, but we meet in the middle, still kneeling in the grass, all desperate hands and frenetic energy.

The worry, the stress, the loneliness and heartache and shame of the last several years, rise up inside me, as if they’ve been waiting for this moment to finally boil over.

I cry in earnest this time, tears streaming down my face. Sadness seeps out of every pore, my body flushing out the pain and heartache. It’s a damn deluge flowing through my limbs and escaping with each gasping, shuddering breath.

Noah wraps me in his arms and kisses me again. Only then do I settle.

I’m safe. I’m here .

And for the first time in a very long time, I genuinely believe I’m going to be okay.