Chapter Eleven
Kurt
I grabbed a Gatorade from the fridge and walked back to Sawyer’s room. When Nina told me that Sawyer had dashed to the bathroom, I had to make sure she was okay.
Fucking pork and corn dish.
The woman drove me insane—never listened to a word I said.
“Hey, Sawyer, drink a little of this for me.”
All I got in response was a grunt. So, I sat on the edge of the bed and put my hand underneath Sawyer to turn her over. Fuck. Her top had shifted, showing the underside of her tits.
I looked up, trying not to let my eyes wander. Damn Vera or Veronica or Victoria—whoever the hell had made this top.
“Kurt?”
“Yeah, baby. I need you to drink this. You need to stay hydrated.”
She opened her lips, and I poured a little in her mouth. Gently, I laid her back down. Before I made it to the door, I heard her say softly, “Please stay with me tonight.”
“Let me get showered and take care of George. I’ll be back.”
“Thanks.”
I left her door open as I made my way to my shower. I shed my clothes, catching a glimmer of the rhinestones. My firecracker. Yes, I was fucked. Totally crazy about Sawyer.
I hopped in the shower with a raging hard-on. Every time I saw her, I wanted to push her against the wall and just take her. Inside, I felt like a ticking time bomb. If I was going to spend the night next to her, I needed to take care of this.
Leaning against the shower wall, I grabbed my cock and stroked, imagining Sawyer’s sweet body spread below me. Her tits were perky and fit in the palms of my hands. I stroked harder, thinking about how it felt to be inside her tight body. I imagined pounding into her as she held on to the headboard. I pumped my dick once, twice more before I released. “Fuck!”
I leaned my head against the shower wall and let the water rain down on me. If I didn’t get my head out of my ass, I was going to lose Sawyer. I knew it the moment that asshole, Jordan, had come into the picture. He wanted Sawyer. And from the look in his eyes, at some point, he’d had her.
Bastard.
I slammed my fist into the wall. I needed to get my shit straight. Is there a middle road we can find? Maybe. For the first time, I wanted to consider it. If we both sacrificed a little, could we get there?
I finished washing the sweat and concert grime from my body. The thrill of being on stage was unlike anything else. It had been a dream of mine and Dylan’s. I touched the tattoo on my chest, remembering his words. “Someday you’ll find someone who will make you question everything. Knoah did that for me.” If only he was here still. But then I wouldn’t have Sawyer—Knoah would have never met her.
What a twisted, fucked-up world we lived in.
I toweled off and put on some jogging pants and an old T-shirt. Grabbing my phone, I dialed Frank. When we’d stopped, I got the drivers a hotel room so they could rest. The commotion of coming and going didn’t allow them to rest properly.
“Mr. Hendrix.”
“Hey, Frank. I’m at the bus with Sawyer. She got food poisoning.”
“Oh man, that’s terrible. You’re missing a big night out with the guys for New Year’s Eve.”
No. No, I wasn’t, because I was where I wanted to be.
“Yeah, but you know how that goes. Different day, same shit.”
He chuckled. “And a pretty little lady wouldn’t be out there.”
“Something like that. Anyway, is George good over there, or do you want me to have him brought back to the bus? We appreciate you watching him during the concert.”
“He’s great. Such a sweet pup. I’m glad you didn’t orphan him.”
I rolled my eyes at Frank using Sawyer’s term. She had that effect on people. “He seems to be growing on people.”
“For sure. I’ll bring him over when we pull out. I’m on first shift. Thanks for the hotel.”
“Thanks, Frank. I owe you.”
“Anytime.”
My phone pinged with a text from Cameron. Shit, I hadn’t let him know.
Cameron: I tried to call Sawyer. Everything okay?
I hit his number. It was just easier than texting.
“Hey, Kurt. What’s wrong?”
“Sawyer got food poisoning. She’s in her room, sleeping. I’m going to sleep on the couch to make sure she doesn’t need anything.”
“Is she okay?”
“Yeah, the doctor checked her out. She needs to keep fluids in her. You guys have fun—the night’s on me. The driver will be there for whatever you need.”
“Thanks, Kurt. I’m not sure if we’ll be by before the buses pull out. Tell Sawyer to call me when she wakes up.”
“Will do.”
We hung up, and Sawyer’s phone vibrated on the counter where I’d set it down. Probably those damn reminders she always set to correspond to her color-coded calendar. I picked up the phone and saw that dipshit’s name flash across the screen.
Jordan: Hey, where are you?
Jordan: Don’t forget to save me a dance.
Jordan: Sawyer, are you okay? Where are you?
A new message popped up.
Jordan: Cameron says you’re sick. If you want me to come by, let me know. I seem to remember being able to nurse you back to health before.
Motherfucker.
I took a deep breath and closed my eyes. Later. We would be rolling out in the morning, and I could start working on some sort of solution. With that in mind, I set her phone back down on the counter.
I walked into Sawyer’s room and pulled the blanket up a little further. She was out cold. When I felt her forehead, she stirred.
“Kurt?”
“Yeah, I’m here. I need you to drink just a little more, okay?”
“Umm-hmm.”
I brought the Gatorade to her lips and let her take another sip. “That’s it, baby. Now rest.”
She lay back down. “I wish you would give us a chance.”
“What?”
No response. She was sound asleep.
Yet I knew what she had said.
“I’m working on it.”