There he goes with thesiragain. If he knew the way I usually spent my Fridays he sure as hell wouldn’t be calling me that.
I guess I should ask him something now. ‘What you drawing there?’
‘Cowboys.’ He pauses to hold up his drawing. I was kind of hoping he’d say a bit more, but his words don’t lie, that paper is covered in stick figurine cowboys, some riding horses, some throwing ropes, some maybe even line dancing.
I give him an impressed nod just as my bad leg starts to give me grief again with a dull ache. To quell the pain, I swivel on the couch and lift my cast up onto the cushions, providing it some elevation.
Noah chews on the end of one of the pencils as his assessing eyes roam over my cast. His gaze volleys between my face and broken leg, mouth opening and closing like he wants to speak, and then it clicks—what he’s too shy to ask.
‘Wanna draw on my cast?’ Might as well make something nice out of the goddamn cage that it is. It’ll come off eventually.
Noah nods enthusiastically. Carefully, he climbs onto thecouch, pencils in hand, and Trixie whines from the loss of attention. Noah’s twinkling eyes give away far more of his eagerness than the timid way he shuffles along the cushions to my leg. Still, once he’s chosen the red pencil, he hesitates, eyes darting up to me and back to my cast in the same shy way Honey used to. It melts away all the apprehension in me about looking after him. I guess he’s basically a mini, boy version of Honey—and I did a good job of bringing her out of her shell once. It just took some perseverance and kindness.
‘Don’t worry, you won’t hurt me, buddy.’
With a toothy smile, Noah gets to it, starting to draw out what appears to be—yep, what a surprise, a cowboy. It’s another stick figure with a cowboy hat, holding some rope, and once he’s finished that, he starts on a very loose portrayal of a rather overweight horse.
I can’t help but chuckle. Honey wasn’t lying when she said he was obsessed. ‘You sure do like cowboys, don’t you?’
The intensity in which he concentrates on drawing, tongue caught between his teeth, only highlights the passion brimming from him. That he definitely inherited from his mom too.
‘Yes, sir.’
‘You can just call me Sawyer, y’know?’
That has him blinking those big eyes at me. ‘Okay. Thanks, Sawyer.’
Nice. We’re on a first-name basis now. I’m going to take that as a win.
Next question. ‘You wanna be a cowboy when you grow up?’
His eyes light up at that question. ‘Oh yeah.’ He taps his pencil against his chin as his forehead creases, deep in whatever thoughts could possibly be wracking his little brain. Then he sighs out, so dramatically I stifle a laugh with my fist, ‘I just don’t know what kind of cowboy yet.’
Now we’re getting into my expertise.
And clearly a topic that he feels more comfortable talking about.
Interlocking my hands, I stretch my arms behind my head so I can rest back on them, relaxing into the couch. I realise then that it was a bull he was drawing, not a horse. Makes a lot more sense now. Especially with the horns.
‘Well, what are your options?’
‘Bull riding,obviously.’ He waves his pencil towards me and a grin spreads through my cheeks. If all kids were like this, I’d probably like them a bit more. He’s hilarious and I don’t think he means to be.
‘Obviously. Only the best do that,’ I respond, raising a brow to see what reaction I get. I’m rewarded with a smile he tries to hide by keeping his head down, but it still feels like I just won the next level of this babysitting game. It’s not quite winning a riding competition, but it’s close.
‘Yeah, but bronc riding is pretty cool too, and steer roping.’ Damn, this kid knows his rodeos. Pretty sure all I was interested in when I was six was besting Wolfman in our play fights and making mud pies. Honey must be educating him well—I wonder if she ever showed him any of my competitions. If that’s why he said he was a huge fan.
I don’t get a moment to consider the warmth building inmy chest at the thought, as Noah then adds, ‘I can’t do team roping though, you need friends for that.’
And that’s when all that warmth dissipates, my heart dropping with it. He says it so matter of factly, no emotion on his face—that’s what gets me the most.
‘What do you mean?’
Noah just shrugs, keeping his head down as he draws for longer.
‘Hey,’ I lean forward. ‘You don’t need any more friends. You know why?’
Noah shakes his head, lower lip slightly pouting.