‘You got period cramps?’ Sawyer asks plainly.
‘Um …’ I look anywhere but him, plagued by memories of Gray always getting uncomfortable aboutwomen’sproblems, and the lack of discussion of periods growing up in my house.
‘Blue, sit down.’ Sawyer’s fingers finally connect with my elbow and he steers me to the couch, his hold gentle but commanding. Taking control when I’m in need. Noah is so entranced by toys, Trixie curled up next to him, that he doesn’t notice my pain, thankfully. ‘You shouldn’t be rushing around if you ain’t feeling good.’
‘Says you.’ I nod to his leg, the fact that he literally walked me over without using his crutches, putting far too much weight on his still healing leg. He narrows his eyes at me. Besides, doesn’t he understand—I can’t just stop everything because I’ve got a stomach ache. It doesn’t work like that.
‘I need to finish getting Noah his lunch.’ I try to stand, but Sawyer’s hand is still clasped around my elbow, and he urges me back down. I wonder if he realises how long he’s been holding me. How I have to ignore the faint flutter in my stomach from his touch.
He turns a stern brow to me. ‘What you need is to rest.’
‘Sawyer, I appreciate your concern, but I’ve been powering through for years—every woman has to. I’ll be fine.’
Besides, he spends more time with Noah than I expected since we moved in, and I don’t want to be a burden. I felt bad enough sleeping in last weekend, even if him and Noah running around the ranch, laughs loud enough to echo all the way into town, wasn’t the sweetest thing to stumble upon.
Still, children and playing home, it’s not Sawyer’s ideal life, anyone could attest to that. I’m conscious that he’s probably only letting us stay here because he has the means to—if he hadn’t fallen off that bull, he’d be off on the road,and we’d be staying with my mom. This isn’t what he had planned, so even if he’s offering the favour of help, I don’t want to force us on him.
‘But youshouldn’thave to, that’s the point.’
I go to protest again, but he carries on, more persistent than I was expecting, ‘I can finish making Noah lunch. I can watch him. You work all week, you cook and clean—you got enough going on. Me? I hobble around on crutches for an hour each day. If anything, it’d help with my boredom. Let me help you, Blue.Please.’
There’s something unspoken in his chestnut eyes as he strengthens the intensity of his gaze on me. A lacing of desperation in his tone. For a final attempt at persuasion, he turns to Noah and asks, ‘You love hanging out with me, don’t ya, buddy?’
‘Hell yeah,’ Noah replies, not even looking over to us.
Sawyer smirks at Noah’s speedy response, raising his brows as if to say,told you so.
‘I promise I won’t teach him any cuss words.’ He confirms such by crossing his finger over his heart, grinning mischievously.
‘I wasn’t worried you would until you said that,’ I say back, furrowing my brow.
Sawyer lets out a hearty chuckle that almost has my toes curling. And then he gently runs his finger down the bridge of my nose, catching me completely off guard and chuckling. ‘Uncrinkle that little nose, Blue. We’ll be fine.’
He pushes up from the couch, offering me his hands to help me up. There always was something too persuasive about that smirk of his, like his dimples had some sort of enchantment and it has me reluctantly taking his hands.
‘Come on,’ he says. ‘You need a bath. It’ll be good for that shoulder you’re always rolling and massaging. Can use some of those nice smelling candles I got for your room too.’
I didn’t realise he’d noticed. That’s so … thoughtful.
Eagerly, Sawyer follows me to the stairs, still not using his crutches like he should be, and he presses a hand to the wall to lean against it as I turn to him. His wide frame looms over me, the little light in the stairwell catching the edges of his strong jaw and sharp cheekbones. But it’s his broad chest that’s in my eyeline and stretches his white T-shirt a little too well. Being this close—I’ve been trying to avoid it, especially since last weekend had my body tingling with too much heat when we might as well have been tangled up on the floor.
‘You need any help up there too?’ he suddenly asks.
‘Wh—with getting undressed?’ I sputter out.
‘No—um—’ Sawyer swallows, eyes flaring. Darkening, even in the shadows. They quickly bounce around the walls, anywhere but me. ‘I … I just meant with running the bath.’
‘Oh.’ Heat sears my cheeks.Of course he meant with the bath, you idiot. I squeak out, ‘Nope. All good,’ and rush up the stairs, deciding it’s probably better to be in different rooms for a while.
Okay, I hate to admit it, but this isexactlywhat I needed. Steam curls around the edges of the roll top bath, the aromas of lavender from the scented candle I lit fill my senses and lull me into a dreamy state of relaxation. The hot water soothes every ache in my bones, my cramps dulled to a levelthat’s much more manageable. Bubbles tickle the tops of my knees that poke out the water, while Kelsea Ballerini’s latest album plays quietly from my phone.
I remember Sawyer mentioning the bath as a bargaining chip for moving here weeks ago, but this is the first time I’ve used it.
Sometimes I think I’m afraid to let go—I’m so determined to give Noah the best life, to give him all the love he deserves and that I never got, I worry if I’m not always around, especially with how anxious he gets. At least with my mom, it’s different, because she’s been there since Noah was born, basically replacing Gray as a second parent when he decided he wasn’t cut out for that life just yet. Although, Noah’s anxiety doesn’t seem to be an issue around Sawyer—he’s practically smitten with the cowboy, and I’d be lying if I said it didn’t ease a little stress from my life seeing him come out of his shell more.
Of course it had to be because of the man whose heart I broke.
When I finally decide I’m two minutes away from turning into a prune, I reluctantly climb out of the tub. They’ve been oddly quiet downstairs, and I wonder if maybe Sawyer’s taken Noah outside to play. Savouring the plushness of the towel, I dry myself off before donning my bathrobe. I turn off my music, trying to listen out for some evidence of life downstairs. Just as I go to open the bathroom door, the house literally shakes with the beginnings of a guitar solo blasting from downstairs. Then the drums and bass hit, every beat reverberating through my body.