Redemption

BUT INSIDE I WAS FUCKING DYING

My fingertips danced along Sawyer's scalp. They spun circles into her chestnut curls, creating seamless traces along the way, but I wrote notes of how much I loved her, hoping she could tell. As her snores played melodies, and she slept peacefully, my eyes burned because I still couldn't fall asleep. I didn't want to miss the look of relaxation on her face and how she looked at peace.

A breeze drifted through the open window – it smelled like bonfire and the end of fall. Sawyer told me the sound of swaying trees and rain reminded her of the first time she stayed in my room.

She begged me to open the window one time, and ever since, it's been cracked. Now, whenever she comes into my room, she never has to ask. So, she never has to worry about migraines and getting too hot in the middle of the night. Not when her body is pressed tightly against mine or when she's moaning my name and writhing below me.

When she moves, she'll have no one. And I'll have to spend every second of every day wondering if she's safe. There's nothing that'd get in my way of traveling across this fucking country to make sure she was okay. To make sure there wasn't a fucking hair on her head that'd been harmed.

But how long would she be in New York before she started making friends? How much longer until one of those friends caught her attention and she fell in love?

She'd stop finding reasons to love me, and I think that's why my mom left. She couldn't find a reason to stick around anymore, as if I didn't have any growing up to do. I still tripped over my own feet and got a little messy during dinner.

When she left, did she consider taking me? Or was I a mistake? I don't mean two drunken strangers hooking up. I mean two parents planning for a child, and giving birth, only to realize he wasn't as perfect as they dreamed of.

I spent my whole life hoping she'd return. After hearing about her new sons, I spent every day studying. I started getting scholarships. I thought she'd be there to congratulate me, but the stands were empty, and no one cheered for my name when they called it.

I hoped turning to basketball would give me an outlet. I thought if I played basketball, she'd come to see me. It was her favorite sport. She played in high school. When I led my team to the championship, she wasn't there. So, I stepped off the court, and I never touched a basketball again.

Then I spent my first years in college, making a name for myself. I became everything my mom hated – an alcoholic. She hated men who couldn't commit even more. So, I slept with anyone who wanted me, and I left them like my mom left me – without an explanation.

Her new kids are law majors. I'm the leading tight end in the country, according to ESPN. She walked out of my life. So, I promised myself she'd hear my name for the rest of hers.

"Carter."

I looked down, finding Sawyer's eyes on me. "Are you okay?"

She blinked a few times. "Why are you still awake?"

"I can't sleep," I let out a heavy breath. "Don't worry, though. Go back to sleep, okay?"

"That's not how this works," she pressed a kiss to my chest. "You've stayed up with me. I'll stay up with you. What's wrong?"

I felt the creases between my eyebrows deepen. "Nothing."

Her fingers brushed my face. "Don't lie to me. I can tell by your eyes. So, talk to me."

The moment her body shifted, and she sat up, I sighed. "Sawyer, go back to bed, please."

"Not until you tell me what's going on."

"I love you," I said, brushing the curls away from her face.

She leaned down, connecting her lips with mine. "I love you, Carter, but please, talk to me."