Today was the last thing I needed. More upheaval when Noah was just getting settled into our new routine. Our new life. And now I’m going to have to turf him out of our apartment and disrupt everything because of a freaking pipe bursting. I just hope he was okay with Sawyer picking him up—with any luck he was so excited about getting to spend time with one of his cowboy idols that he didn’t question why I wasn’t there.
Hopefully Sawyer doesn’t begrudge me too much either—I know kids aren’t exactly his thing.
I exit my car and make my way up to the porch to knock on Sawyer’s door—except when I get there, the front door is slightly ajar. Laughter echoes inside, a deep rumble mixed in with high-pitched giggles that I instantly recognise, as well as some …mooing?
Carefully, I ease the door open, revealing the large kitchen with polished wooden cupboards, a central island counter and stools, and long beams stretching across the ceilings. The warm wood and cabin-like vibe of the house, especially with its A-frame front, is a seamless blend of cosy and homey, a perfect façade to the years of cruelty that occurred here.
Still, it’s the kind of place I think I’d like for me and Noah one day. Dark wooden structuring where I’d mark Noah’s height on the door frames, large windows with the picturesque scenery of rich pastures and sky-piercing mountains constantly on show, and plenty of land that Noah can run freely about, and maybe even share one day with a sibling. You know, the kind of thing they sing about in country songs.
‘Sawyer? Noah?’ I call out as I close the door behind me, stretching my neck to listen for a reply. There’s more laughter again, accompanied by footsteps, and what sounds oddly like hoofbeats—
A small brown cow runs out of the archway to my left and through the kitchen in front of me, forcing me back into the door with shock. It plods off through another archway at the end of the kitchen, which seems to lead all the way toa backdoor, not even acknowledging me. I’m pretty certain it even had a tennis ball in its mouth …
What the hell?
‘Hi, Momma!’ Noah then skips into the kitchen from my left too. But he doesn’t give me a second to ask him what’s going on when he sprints past me, following the path of the cow and leaving little dusty footprints along the wooden floor.
I’m thrown—that might be the first time Noah hasn’t run to me immediately after we’ve been apart. I’m so used to picking him up from school, where he’s had to struggle through his shyness all day, that he usually can’t wait to be back with me. I’m not sure how to feel.
‘Wait for me, buddy!’ This time I squeal when Sawyer shouts after Noah, hurrying through the same archway as the cow and my boy with impressive speed considering he’s using crutches.
‘Oh, hey, Honey.’ A glint touches his eyes when he sees me, and he halts, cheeks all flushed like he’s been running around for hours. Yet his dark-blond hair is effortlessly windswept, and that thick moustache along his upper lip is perfectly smooth. Real soft too, I bet. He flashes me a grin, dimples blaring and rendering me momentarily speechless.
Sawyer clears his throat, and I babble out, realising I was probably staring a little too long, ‘There’s a—acowin your house.’
‘Yeah, I know,’ he says as if having a cow roaming one’s house is perfectly natural.
‘Whyis there a cow in your house?’
‘Oh, that’s Kentucky. Don’t you worry about her, she’s basically a big dog. We were playing fetch with her andTrixie outside when she ran off with the ball. Been chasing her around the house for ages.’
Right, because that’s totally normal behaviour.
Exasperated, I let out a sharp sigh.
‘C’mon,’ Sawyer chuckles, the sound deep and husky, like a crackling fire, leaving me warm inside. He cocks his head towards the archway the cow and my son ran through and waits for me to start walking before he follows.
I take in as much of the house as I can as we pass through, checking up the stairs to the next floor, and getting a peek into what appears to be a downstairs bathroom, and a bedroom that looks well lived in, bedsheets still messy.
The backdoor is wide open, the whispering October breeze and golden glow of the early sunset pouring in. But my little boy’s laughter is what I can’t help but home in on, the sound the most beautiful melody a mother could hear. Especially since so few people ever have that effect on him beyond the confines of our home.
As we step onto the back deck, Noah’s running about with a golden retriever and the goddamn cow, throwing the tennis ball for them both, and giggling when whichever animal gets it first brings it back to him. I know he’s a happy boy, even if he’s quiet most of the time, but seeing him like this—so carefree and overflowing with excitement—God, it warms my heart. It’s the kind of change I hoped to see in him by moving. Like the world is playing a little slice of my dreams right in front of me. A welcome distraction from the chaos of my drowned apartment back across town.
‘How’s the apartment?’ Sawyer asks, joining me by the fence, where I’ve found myself leaning as I watch Noah, not wanting to interrupt his fun.
‘Oh, um, flooded.’ I stroke my hand over my head, realising some hair has come loose from its braid, and I quickly try to tuck as much as possible behind my ears so not to look too dishevelled. As if that’s the worst of my worries right now. ‘The carpets are ruined. And the counters. It had been like that for hours apparently—my neighbour only realised there was an issue when they got home. I’m just glad they found it when they did.’
‘Shit, I’m sorry.’ Sawyer runs his fingers across his moustache. ‘You got insurance, right?’
‘Yeah, but it doesn’t matter—I was renting the place while hoping somewhere might come on the market that I could afford to buy for me and Noah. My landlord thinks it could take up to a month to get it sorted. It’s gonna need industrial dehumidifiers, counters and cupboards replaced …’ I pause to take a deep breath and stop my eyes from welling, surprised I even have any tears left. ‘I’ve been on the phone with them all afternoon to see if there’s any way it can get sorted quicker—that’s why I’m so late picking Noah up. Sorry, about that.’
‘Don’t fret. We’ve been keeping busy.’ Sawyer steps back and holds out his broken leg with a smile that almost seems smug. It’s only when he angles his cast in the light of the sunset breaking through the slats of the fence that I finally notice all the drawings covering it, some still unfinished.
Dammit, the tears are threatening again.
Why is the thought of Noah drawing on Sawyer’s cast so cute? Shocking too … I honestly expected to find Sawyer had sat Noah in front of the television or something he didn’t have to put much effort into. Mostly because of hisleg, but also, well, he doesn’t exactly give off the paternal vibe with all the rodeos and women I hear about.
Nor is Noah used to spending so much time alone with strangers.