Then when she reaches the second chorus, those eyes float up to me and I’m locked in place. Maybe it’s just the lights but … I swear there’s a shine that takes residence in her eyes as they sear into mine. As she sings of finding the courage to move on, of time changing us, of building your life around someone and having to leave them behind.
Did she ever regret it? Leaving?
Noah joins in singing the last part, stealing Honey’s attention back and forcing that beautiful smile into her cheeks again. The desire to sit with them, to join in and take on the familial warmth and glow that surrounds Honey and Noah, dares to rope me in.
But … that’s not the life that’s carved out for me. Never was. The lyrics thrumming through me remind me of such, landing as sharp blows to my stomach.
We’ve changed too much. Beyond return. And I can’t get swept up into thinking it ever could be different—not like I naively did all those years ago. Whatever happens this next month, it’ll still end with Honey leaving again. And I’ll be alone, where I belong.
11
Honey
Waking up early gets harder this time of the year with the sun barely rising before me. But my quiet, alone time in the morning before the rush to get ready for school and then deal with teenagers all day is incredibly needed.
The house at Lucky Star is beautifully quiet this Thursday morning. There’s not a peep from Noah since he’s still snoring in his room. I’ve been on edge going to sleep every night this week since we moved in, anxious he’d have a bad dream like he often does or a restless night from the change of location, but he slept through last night, meaning I’m fresher than I expected this morning.
And a little disorientated at how easily he’s taking this all when I’m still struggling to get used to it. To coming back from work each day to the muscly cowboy who once knew my deepest, darkest secrets and I never thought I’d see again. To that same cowboy cooking dinner for us and making sure the fridge is stocked with too much ice cream to be good for Noah. To watching Sawyer listen to Noah tellhim about his day with such care, asking the right questions to make Noah open up and telling jokes that make him laugh so loudly.
It’s … not what I expected.
That’s why my morning stretches feel even more pertinent.
With my yoga mat tucked under my arm and a baggy sweater and leggings for defence against the chilly morning air, I head downstairs, ready for some stretches outside. I wouldn’t usually do my yoga outside—I’ve never had the luxury of space for that before in my past homes—but when I’ve got the chance to stretch beside mountains and pastures sprinkled by morning light, it seems silly not to take advantage of that. Makes me remember that moving in was a good decision too.
I take a deep, satisfied breath as I ease the back door open, aware that Sawyer’s bedroom is nearby. I’m already conscious getting Noah ready for school will probably have him awake earlier than he’d like, and I’d like to make him regret his offer of having us here as little as possible. As unsure as I am about staying here, I don’t need another sudden move to disrupt Noah’s life.
When I step outside, I relish the peaceful breeze and the silence-drenched land, a few visible dots of ranchers already working in the distance and … there’s grunting.
My head whips to my left, where I find a half-naked Sawyer doing a rather rigorous set of crunches on the deck floor. He’s facing away from me, and despite the still-dim light of the morning, a sheen of perspiration coats and shimmers across his skin, highlighting the ridges of the muscles flexing in his back. My hand grazes my throat as I swallow, taking in the sight of his solid, athletic bodymoving with such strength and ease, even more honed than when he was eighteen—
I shouldn’t be staring.
I shake my head and fumble for the door handle to head back inside—
‘Blue? You alright?’ Sawyer’s voice is laden with heavy breathing, my nickname coming out raspy.
Thankfully, by the time I turn back to him, he’s just finished pulling a T-shirt on, so I don’t have to be hit again with the sight of what I already know are an impressive set of abs.
‘Morning.’ I put on a polite smile and try to breathe as slowly as possible to calm my suddenly quickened heart. ‘I—I thought you were still asleep.’
‘Oh, no. Damn leg was hurting and woke me up. Happens a lot. Either that or my mind doesn’t shut up.’ Sawyer pushes himself up to a stand, purposefully keeping his weight off his bad leg—the cast still covered in Noah’s drawings. He might have hidden the rest of his torso, but the gym shorts he has on do nothing to conceal the rippling muscles in his legs. Or the thick layer of blond hair covering them that has me swallowing again. ‘So, I thought I’d get a workout in before I head out onto the ranch this morning.’
I notice the heavy dumbbells beside him then, along with what appear to be resistance bands. ‘Isn’t that bad for your leg?’
He shrugs, a half-smile appearing. ‘Not if I wanna get straight back into the circuit once it’s healed. Can’t let the rest of me waste away. My agent’s been hounding me every day to make sure I’m still exercising and stretching.’
Right, he mentioned that—about leaving in a few monthsonce his leg is better. Back on the road where he so clearly belongs. I guess the house will just sit here waiting for him after that.
‘You always up this early?’ Sawyer asks.
‘Oh, um—’Use your words, Honey.You’re not a shy schoolgirl anymore.‘Yes. I usually, um, stretch in the morning before getting Noah up because he has to be in school before me. But I can do it later, when I’m back—’
‘Blue—’ He reaches for my arm, I think, his hand halting an inch or two away instead of connecting with me.
It warms my heart knowing he’s still respecting the boundaries on touch I had all those years ago. I could easily tell him that I’ve worked on it in therapy, that I don’t mind people touching me so freely now, but something stops me. A small warning in the back of my mind that maybe it would be betternotto feel his skin against mine, for the sake of not churning up old memories.
‘You can stretch out here, I don’t mind.’