That Sawyer, his favourite cowboy, his best friend, would be a part of our family.
Gray drops the cases by the front door, then swivels and crouches down, arms wide and open for Noah, who is currently in front of the fire, playing with one of his many cowboy-themed toys from Santa. ‘Come here then, kiddo.’
Noah halts his playtime and shuffles over to his dad, leaping into his arms without a thought to his bandaged arm. The one with a couple of stitches in it. My chest tightens, because I know exactly who he picked that recklessness up from.
Noah doesn’t offer Avery a hug, but he does find the courage to say goodbye to her, having warmed to her over the last few days, that bravery of talking to new people Sawyer told me about shining through. I just wish he was here to see—how he’s unknowingly helped him.
Ugh, here come the tears again. Haven’t I cried enough these last few days?
I try to soothe myself with one deep breath, willing the tears to disappear, before standing and turning to say goodbye. I glance at my mom who stands from the armchair opposite as I do and she presses her lips into a soft, understanding smile. I know she’s stayed these last few days for me, as opposed to for Noah like she suggested.
‘Thanks for having us, Honey,’ Avery says, offering me a hug, which in all honesty I take far too easily, mostly because I just need the comfort.
Gray and I share a brief hug as he also says thanks, but we have little else to say and our smiles are fleeting. I’m quick to open the door and usher them out, standing in the doorway with Noah and my mom as we wave off Gray and Avery in their rental SUV, watching them drive away from the snow-covered ranch.
For a second, I keep my eyes trained on the entrance to the ranch after they’re out of sight, the tiniest morsel of hope flickering inside of me with the thought that maybe I’ll see Sawyer’s truck appear then since he clearly came to get it in the night. That he just wanted to wait until Gray was gone to come back.
But that hope dies out as quickly as it lit up and then my eyes are falling to Noah, whose bottom lip pouts as his eyes too are downcast, melancholy swimming in them.
‘It’s okay, baby.’ I drop to my knees and pull Noah into a hug, squeezing him tight against me. My rock in all the chaos of the last few days. ‘You’ll get to see your dad again soon. We’ll give him a call next week and organise something, yeah?’
Noah nods against me, then pulls his head back to look up at me through his little glasses, the winter sunshine glinting off their silver edges. His brows cave in further. ‘But what about Sawyer?’
‘Oh,’ my voice trembles, throat tightening as I’m unsure what to say. Because I don’t know when he’s coming back. I want the answer just as much as he does, and I hate that I can’t give it to him. Hate that I feel so hopeless.
I glance up to my mom.
‘Not yet, sweetheart. He’s got rodeo business to take care of, we gotta wait to hear back from him,’ my mom chimes in instantly, placing her hands on Noah’s shoulders. ‘Y’know what, Trixie looks a bit bored. Why don’t you go test out that football Avery got you? See if Trixie enjoys playing with it too. Snow’s melted a bit more now.’
‘Okay,’ Noah beams up at her.
She guides Noah back inside, giving him a pat on theback to urge him towards the stairs. ‘Your momma will get you dressed properly while I make some coffee. We’ll come sit outside and watch you.’
Eagerness fills his eyes as he rushes upstairs and I mouth,thank you, to my mom as I trudge after him, grateful for her support. Once I get Noah all wrapped up with plenty of layers, as well as a thick beanie hat and gloves, I throw on my own coat and boots, then follow him outside onto the back deck.
‘Be careful of your arm!’ I call after him as he skips down the steps with Trixie in tow, who’s already barking with excitement to play. But, just like the cowboy he admires so much, Noah’s barely complained once about the pain from his arm since he cut it. The initial shock being what upset him the most, I think.
My mom joins us then, gesturing to the seats on one side where we plant ourselves, and she hands me a mug of coffee—needed, considering every sleep since Sawyer left has been fitful. Restless. Empty.
Each time I close my eyes where I’ve been sleeping in his bed, I pray that I’ll wake up to him next to me. That it’s Christmas morning all over again, Noah leaping into bed with us, the unparalleled joy on his face to find the two of us together—his mom and favourite cowboy. Our little family. But he’s never there when I open my eyes, no matter how hard I will him to be.
‘It’s going to crush him,’ I say aloud, the thought slipping from my lips as I watch Noah erupt with giggles as Trixie chases after him, the football tucked under his arm.
‘I don’t think you need to worry about that.’ My mom takes a sip of her drink, the steam wafting into the chillylate December air around us. ‘Sawyer will come back soon.’
I want to believe her, I do, but her words only fill me with more dread. Fear that she’ll jinx it. Fear that I’ll only get my hopes up for them to be crushed again. ‘How do you know that, though?’
‘Because he’s afraid, love.’ She places her hand on top of where mine rests on the arm of the wooden chair.
‘Afraid of what?’ I question, when I thought we’d built a stronger foundation this time. We’d been honest with each other about our fears, and we’d reassured the other. What else should I have done?
‘Of hurting Noah. Of letting you down.’ Her gaze floats back to Noah, free as a bird running around the grass. ‘People make a lot of mistakes when they’re scared. I know I did. If I hadn’t been so terrified I would’ve gotten us out of Willow Ridge sooner, but that fear, the kind that your father liked to manipulate within me, it paralysed me. Kept me thinking I couldn’t change, couldn’t be strong.’
My heart aches and I mirror her as we both blink back our tears.
She continues, ‘Sawyer adores you both and when he saw Noah hurt I bet he blamed himself too quickly. I married a bad man, Honey, slept next to him every night, and even though Sawyer probably worries he has parts of his dad inside him, there isn’t a bad bone in his body. I would know. Yes, he’s made mistakes, but that’s only because all he wants is to be loved. He just doesn’t know how to go about it.’
She squeezes my hand again then. ‘Just like you didn’t when you were eighteen.’