I marvel at her, so open with me suddenly, like she’s nudged the door ajar to her true self. ‘Eat as many as you want, Blue. Your secrets are safe with me. Always.’
Every smile she sends my way has my heart beating faster, begging for more. Honey grabs another candy bar and takes a bite before she lies back on the blanket with a gentle sigh. It’s fascinating watching her—small, insignificant actions to everyone else, but momentous to me.
‘You made fun of me once for being all neat and tidy,’ she says.
I scratch my head because I don’t remember, but it does sound like something I’d do. I’m an ass like that sometimes, probably trying to get a reaction from her for my ego. ‘Um …’
‘Well, that’s one of the things he hates—my father. If the house isn’t tidy, it’s proof I haven’t done my chores well enough or that I don’t care about our home.’ Her eyes go shiny as she stares at the bleachers above. ‘And it spills into everywhere else. I know that if my pens aren’t all lined up nothing is going to happen, but there’s always thatwhat ifin the back of mind. The kind that has my shoulders hunching, anticipating the blow.’
‘I’m sorry, Blue.’ I have an unexpected yet fierce urge to wrap her in my arms. Keeping a slither of space between us, I lie down beside her instead. ‘I should probably learn to be more like you.’
She turns her head to me. ‘What do you mean?’
‘I know what angers my dad and I do it anyway.’ A laugh bursts out. ‘I could be quiet, I could not talk back, I could do as I’m told. But I don’t. I—Ican’t.’
‘Good,’ Honey declares and fully shifts onto her side, silky hair slinking over her shoulder. I have to stop my eyes from tracing the curve of her hip in this position. ‘Do you know how much I dream about being able to break the rules? But I’m just too afraid of getting caught.’
‘I could help you.’ I mirror her stance, heat prickling under my clothes at being so close to her, to those baby blues searching mine. ‘Would this be breaking the rules? Lying here with me? Your father would probably hate me.’
The long column of her throat works. ‘Probably. Though, we’re not …’
‘Touching?’ I finish, and her eyes flash—the innocence there too tempting to ruin. My pulse quickens, readying for her rejection when I ask, ‘Can I touch your hand, Blue?’
She nods, but when I raise my brows, needing verbal consent, she finally says, ‘Yes.’
And now my heart is thrashing against my chest. I’m just going to hold her hand—why am I so nervous? Still, I’m cautious as I trail my fingers over her knuckles before filtering them between her own slender fingers. Her skin is cool against mine, and I relish in the thought I might be able to warm her as much as touching her heats me. When my fingers slot fully between hers, noise I didn’t even realise had been filling my mind disappears, leaving nothing but calm.
Sanctuary.
I swallow as I look back up, finding Honey’s eyes sparkling and locked intensely on our joined hands. Everything about her visibly softens and it hits me with a bigger high than ever before. Screw the smiles and the laughter—I want to make her feel safe. Over and over again.
13
Sawyer
A knock on my bedroom door wakes me that Sunday morning. I sit up in bed, blinking as my eyes get used to the morning light, and am surprised I slept through the night for once. Silence follows, and I wonder if I just dreamt the knock, but the door then creeps open, and Noah pokes his head around, offering me a toothy smile.
‘Morning, buddy,’ I say sleepily, head groggy and confused what he’s doing here. He hesitates at the door, waiting, so I wave him in. ‘You can come in.’
Behind his silver-rimmed glasses, his eyes absorb as much as they can as he shuffles in, zipping about my room like he’s just discovered a whole new world. He climbs onto the end of my bed and sits on his knees, bouncing on the spot and testing out the buoyancy of my mattress. His blond hair is messy, flicking up on one side where he must have slept on it, and I can’t stop the smile that spreads through my cheeks at the sight of him. How cute he looks in his blue pyjamas covered in cowboy hats.
Bet it’s real sweet for Honey to wake up with him. Would definitely make mornings a little brighter. Might mean my head wouldn’t go straight to the bad memories here for once.
‘Everything okay?’ I ask, finding only silence when I listen out for movement in the house that might be Honey.
‘Momma’s still asleep,’ Noah whispers, his brows knitting. ‘I don’t know what to do. She’s always awake before me.’
Oh. I hadn’t thought about that.
Though, it’s good to know she’s sleeping in. She could use it. It baffles me how she manages everything all on her own—work and her family, let alone finding time for herself like her early morning stretches. Even coming back to the ranch and having to take care of Trixie again, having to think about someone other than myself for once, felt overwhelming enough. But seeing how Honey’s so selfless with Noah—how he always comes first for her—it’s inspiring. Even if I do notice the exhaustion that clouds her eyes some days.
I’ve heard her up in the middle of the night a couple of times this week, soothing Noah when he’s had one of those bad dreams she warned me about. Not that she needed to, since I rarely sleep these days, kept awake by the longing to ride. To have purpose again.
After she’s sung him to sleep, she always creeps down the stairs into the kitchen and lets out the deepest of sighs.
It’s torturous, sometimes, as I listen while lying in bed, and it forces that addiction to wanting to help her—to right the wrongs in her world—to keep rearing its head, breaking through all the barbed wire I tried to tie it down with years ago. And this time round, it’s even harder to ignore when Iknow I can do so much more, no longer constrained by the rules of her father or my youth. I’m a man, with a house and a career and money I can throw at whatever problems she has. She always deserved that. I just couldn’t give that to her in the past.
Not that it’s my place to now.