I’M SLIPPING UNDER the covers when my door slides open, and Sawyer sticks his head inside. My fingers grip the sheet as I stare at him, convinced he’s not really standing there.
“Can I come in?” he asks, and I nod. I don’t trust my voice right now.
He shuts the door and I hear the click of the lock. I should tell him to leave it open, but it’s safer this way. I don’t want him and Asher coming to blows again.
Sawyer stops before my bed, his hands tucked in his pockets, with strands of stray hair hiding his eyes. But I don’t need to look into them to feel his energy. It’s vibrating off him, and it contagious. My body’s temperature has already risen several degrees.
“I’m sorry,” he says. “For everything.”
For some reason, his simple apology irritates me. I push up on my knees, careful to
