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CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

COLLINS

O h Jesus, fuck, he smells good.

Did I secretly hope he’d lend me his jacket?

Yes.

Am I pissed at myself for being so weak?

Also yes.

It smells like his bed, all Sawyer and fresh cologne. I’ve witnessed other women talk about “man smell” and how it drives them wild, although I never understood what they were talking about. That is, until I got too close to the Blades captain. And now I’m wearing his jacket, his initials stamped across my chest.

Standing at the rear of his truck, I focus on the zip, entirely too distracted by my heightened senses to realize part of the lining is caught, and that’s why it won’t budge.

“You need some help with that?” He points at where I’m struggling.

I haven’t looked him in the eye since we arrived at the Botanic Garden, and I’m all kinds of off my game. This is not my usual MO. Collins Mackenzie is self-assured and calm in most situations. The last time I can remember feeling like this was when Gretchen Roberts stole the SuperMini World All-Stars title from underneath me on the final turn of the final race.

“I got it.” I fuss, pulling on the zipper that just—won’t—fucking— zip .

“Here, let me help.”

The instant Sawyer’s warm, rough fingertips touch mine, I pull away, the back of my knees hitting the truck bumper.

“I said, I got it,” I bite out, pissed at myself for being so snappy when all he wants to do is help.

In a move I really wasn’t anticipating, he steps forward, hands finding mine once more.

I catch a softness in his green eyes, brows slightly raised in question. I don’t flinch or try to move away as he frees the zip and starts fastening the jacket, his hands over mine as they slowly ascend my chest.

Since the Botanic Garden has an event tonight, there are a few people around us, but I don’t concentrate on anything other than the feel of his skin on mine. I think that was what surprised me the most the night we hooked up—how my skin could vibrate with such intensity without the need for the usual toys I liked.

These past five weeks since I left his place in a hurry, I’ve been proactively suppressing—and avoiding—situations like this. Yet now, I get the feeling Sawyer isn’t going to back down so easily, and that thought catapults a shot of need in me that I can’t deny.

“Are you going to chase me down until you get what you want?” I whisper, my throat tight.

The zip was fastened a good few seconds ago, though Sawyer holds his hands over mine.

His eyes fall to my lips. “Is that what you want, Collins?”

My breathing is shallow and quick. “You can’t ask me impossible questions like that.”

He bites down on his plump bottom lip, and I’m unsure if he’s fighting the urge to kiss me or smile. “Now you know what it feels like.”

“What do you mean?”

His hands leave mine, finding the back of my thighs, lifting and perching me on the end of his tailgate. I want him to step between my legs and kiss me. Every single fiber in my body wants it. Even if I know it’s a really bad idea.

Sawyer’s eyelids fall shut, and he exhales deeply. “Because I feel like I’m in an impossible situation with us—I’m chasing you even if you don’t want me to.” He opens his eyes, nothing but honesty behind them. “When I asked you to come home with me a second time, it wasn’t purely so I could wrap you around me again. At the risk of repeating myself, all I want is your time and attention, all to myself. At first, it was a fascination with the pink-haired girl who had said I wasn’t her type. And now … now it’s a need, Collins. So, yeah, I’m going to chase you because I have no choice.”

I want to run my palms across the scruff of his jaw, pulling his face closer to mine.

“And what would you consider a successful catch?” I ask, ears throbbing with my pulse.

Sawyer takes the smallest step back, hands finding his pockets. He looks uncomfortable at my question, maybe because he doesn’t think I can cope with his potential response. “That’s enough questions for now. Come spend some time with me.”

* * *

Okay, so the Botanic Garden is stunning.

And incredibly romantic when lit up in this way. The trees twinkle with warmth, the lake glows red, and even some of the pathways are lit by dancing multicolored lights.

“Is my jacket doing the job?” Sawyer asks as we pass under a long tunnel wrapped in white string lights.

We’ve been here around an hour, and night has completely fallen. Despite me saying I wouldn’t be bothered if he was recognized with me, I am grateful for the darkness, as it camouflages us far better than if we were here in daylight.

I snuggle further beneath my scarf, Sawyer’s scent penetrating it as we continue to walk around the Japanese Hill-and-Pond Garden.

“It is. Thank you,” I reply, pockets of air puffing into the atmosphere as I speak.

I look across at Sawyer, and he smirks.

“What?”

He shakes his head as we come to a stop by a huge Acer tree, this particular variety I know to be rare. I didn’t go to college, and I don’t have a fancy education, but Japanese culture—and food—is something I have studied in my own time.

He glances at the tree, shaking his head. “Nothing. Just something Archer said earlier.”

I quirk an inquisitive brow. “You guys were talking about the Acer tree?”

“Not exactly.” He winces and takes a seat on a white bench a few feet down from the main pathway. The position provides a view of the lake as a color-changing cycle begins, lighting the water in a beautiful way.

There’s a comfortable silence between us that doesn’t scream to be filled with small talk. Perhaps it’s the calm environment, or maybe it’s the company. I don’t know, but I feel the urge to do something alien.

Share.

“The year after my grandparents died, I visited Tokyo. It was only for two weeks, but I feel like it changed me.”

Sawyer twists his body completely around to face me. “In what way did it change you?”

I smile at the memories. “For a young girl, I’d traveled around the US a lot and then to a few other countries.” I eye him carefully. “I used to compete in motocross at a high level.”

Sawyer rolls his lips together. None of this is new to him, of course.

“But the traveling combined with an expensive sport took every last cent my parents had.” I cast a quick glance at the lake, now glowing pink. “Mom and Dad always wanted to visit Japan. Dad had this obsession with their culture and history, but mainly the food.” I chuckle, remembering the times he tried to make sushi and failed.

“When they passed away in a car accident, they didn’t leave a lot behind since they’d had debts up to their eyeballs and our house was a rental, all because I’d been hell-bent on pushing my obsession with motocross, desperate to be number one.”

Sawyer doesn’t say a word. I can feel his eyes locked on me as I look out onto the lake.

I clear my throat of emotion. “Anyway, after they died, I quit competing and sold all my equipment. I resented the sport and how much it—and my all-or-nothing attitude—had taken away from them, including my dad’s wish to visit Japan one day. From that moment on, I promised myself I wouldn’t take life too seriously, and I definitely wouldn’t take it for granted. Life is too short to be stuck in one place, grinding away at the same nine-to-five job. I designed my life specifically around freedom and the ability to up and leave whenever I wanted. When my grandparents died and left me a nest egg, I went about making the most of the life I wanted to lead and never looked back.”

A couple more seconds pass in comfortable silence.

“Look at me, Collins,” Sawyer eventually says, his voice firm but gentle.

“You always say that,” I reply, doing as he asked.

“That’s because you rarely do.”

I fight back the shrug I always seem to give him since I have no damn clue what to do when he’s around.

“When was the last time you shared yourself with another person like that?”

Don’t. Fucking. Shrug.

“I can’t remember. Kendra probably knows the most at this point, but I didn’t tell her everything about me and never about my past in motocross. I’ve always struggled to open up and especially about my younger self. I was a selfish kid and I’m not proud of it.”

Sawyer edges closer to me; I’m unsure if it’s deliberate, but I like the way it makes me feel.

“The only person I see in front of me is a good one. Thank you for sharing with me.”

His warm breath reaches my face, tickling my lips, and I wet them on reflex.

“I’m not unhappy, you know. In life. I’m probably happier than most people.” I’ve zero idea why I feel the need to qualify it, but the words tumble from me regardless.

He cocks his head to the side, studying me in a way that’s hot as fuck. Like, in this moment, I’m the only person who exists in his world.

“I can’t imagine choosing to be solitary is a happy place, but if you say so.”

I mirror his actions, cocking my head too. “Does that mean you’re unhappy? There’s only you and Ezra.”

Sawyer shakes his head, a tender smile in response to his son’s name. “I’m happy, but I never discount the opportunity for my life to get better, feel fuller.”

Since I shared a part of my past with Sawyer, I find myself wondering why his blood family isn’t more involved in his and Ezra’s lives. Did they die, like mine? Really, it’s his private business. But like a lot of things with this man, curiosity gets the better of me.

“How come you don’t see your parents?”

He draws in a deep breath. I wouldn’t say thoughts of his family hurt him, but by the look on his face, there’s a lot of emotions going on right now.

“Let’s just say, my family isn’t exactly close. I don’t really talk to my mom, dad, or brother who still live back in Louisiana, where I’m from. I didn’t have a terrible childhood or anything like that; it was more a case of being detached. They didn’t come to my ice hockey games. They weren’t interested in supporting much in my life. They’d prefer to go out with friends or on vacations.”

He drops his head, and I can tell whatever he’s about to admit is hurtful to him.

“My older brother is an asshole who got involved with some bad crowds, and my parents don’t make an effort for anyone but themselves. When I moved out for college, they never really called me or asked how I was doing. I guess you could say I’m just used to going it alone. When Ezra was born, Sophie and I tried to rekindle a relationship with them so they could see him. It didn’t work, and they let us and Ezra down multiple times. That’s when I called it completely and said never again .”

To my surprise and despite what he’s saying, Sawyer smiles. “Dom and Alyssa are more like the parents I didn’t really have. I guess I found my own family in them.”

I nod along, feeling and understanding all Sawyer’s saying. Perhaps we’re alike in more ways than I first thought—though our circumstances are different, we’re both without our blood parents.

I look out onto the lake, feeling a sense of hurt on his behalf. “I’m sorry your family wasn’t what you deserved. People can let you down when you need them the most.”

“Is that why you don’t kiss? Fear of growing attached and being let down?” he asks quietly.

The immediate need to shut down this conversation swells in my gut.

“I do kiss.”

His brows knit together, blue lighting cast across the lake glowing on his high cheekbones. “Just not me then.”

He hasn’t forgotten a moment of what we said or did that first night we hooked up, has he?

I pull in a breath. “I can’t sleep with you or kiss you, Sawyer. I …” I trail off, panic rising.

He edges closer on the bench. His hand sliding down the back until it’s only millimeters away from my shoulder.

Sawyer reaches up, cupping the side of my face in his palm. I know my cheek is cold, but it burns from his touch.

“Hand over a little of that control, Baby. You can trust me with it.”

Another inch closer, and I’ll be doing just that—kissing him.

“Aren’t you scared?” I ask. “You’ve lost people too. You could start falling for me, and then I could just up and leave.”

“Oh, Baby Girl.” He runs the callous pad of his thumb across my bottom lip, smiling knowingly at me. “For a girl who thinks she has it all worked out, you just don’t get it, do you?”

Even if I wanted to reply, I couldn’t.

Sawyer closes the remaining distance between us, whispering against my lips, “I already am.”

Just like I knew I would, I let him kiss me. Every single bone melting until I can’t be sure I’m upright.

His hand slides further along the bench until it leaves the wooden frame and wraps around my shoulder, pulling me into him.

This kiss is sweet with no tongues, a dance and test of each other’s limitations. Or maybe just mine. But I know what I want, even if a part of me screams to ignore it.

A whimper races up my throat, the appreciative sound urging him on. His smooth tongue lightly traces the seam of my lips, and I part for him like a goddamn river breaking its banks.

Sawyer smiles into the kiss, satisfied with how easy it was to have his way with me.

I pull away from him, chest heaving, blood pumping, tingles everywhere—especially between my thighs. “You see, this is exactly what I mean. Kissing you is dangerous.”

A soft laugh bubbles from him, and he ducks his head, kissing the underside of my jaw. “I want to do a lot more than just kiss you.”

I feel my thong grow damp. “You know we can’t do that.”

He kisses my jaw again. “For the same reasons you told me we couldn’t kiss?”

I feel my defenses fly up. I need to shut down this conversation before it ventures into unsafe territory like discussing the feelings I know I’m rapidly developing for this man. “No. Because last time was only above average.” I blurt out in a panic.

He looks hurt, and I hate that.

“I was more than a six, and you know it.”

Shaking my head, I shuffle a centimeter away from him. “No, that was the truth. It was … vanilla?”

Sawyer narrows his eyes. “You’re being totally serious, aren’t you?”

I nod once, despising my response. My hesitancy to sleep with him again isn’t centered around his abilities in bed, and I know it. There’s only one way I’d let Sawyer take me back to bed, and that’s if feelings weren’t involved for him and Ezra wasn’t at risk of getting pulled into it. The worst-case scenario would be him seeing us in a compromising position and wondering if I was his dad’s girlfriend after all. I could never do that to him or Sawyer.

Regardless of my nod, Sawyer looks determined, reaching out and twisting a lock of my hair around his finger. “Hypothetically speaking, if we slept together again, what would you want me to do?”

Oh Jesus.

The ache in my core borders on unbearable, and I bite my lip, trying to center myself.

“I guess, first, I’d like you to not fall any further for me. Sex, combined with emotions, makes things complicated.”

He visibly deflates, and I feel shitty for it.

“So, you only want a no-strings type of arrangement?”

“Yes. I think you’re hot as fuck, and I can show you what I like in bed. But for everyone’s sake, this can only be about sex. If you don’t think you can do that, then I get it.”

Sawyer’s eyes search mine—pain, frustration, annoyance, and then acceptance passing through them like a carousel. “If it were only me, I would risk my feelings to be with you in any way you wanted. This isn’t just about me though, and I can’t only think of myself; I have to think of my son too. He’s perceptive—maybe more than I’ve previously given him credit for—and I don’t want to sneak around behind his back. If we were just fuck buddies, that’s what we’d have to do.” Sawyer tucks the piece of hair he was playing with behind my ear. He doesn’t look certain of his next words, an internal war taking place in his mind. “And I don’t think I can do that.”

I don’t reply because there isn’t anything else to say. He’s right. The cold facts are here, between us, swirling in the freezing Brooklyn night sky.

This is the right decision.

This is for the best. For me, for Sawyer, and especially for Ezra.

I’m not mom material; I can barely hold down a job, for Christ’s sake.

My time in New York was slowly coming to an end anyway, and this way, no one gets hurt.

So, why does it already feel like I am?