The Magic of Light

Chapter

Fifty-Four

Sawyer

I stood in front of the steps that changed my life. It felt full circle that I was here again, and I wondered if I had made a mistake. I glanced at the tire swing where Soren had pushed me under the stars for the first time. I took a breath to calm my heart from racing. I walked up the steps and turned toward the porch swing where Soren had kissed me for the first time. I knocked on the door. I knew Soren was hurt, therefore I was sure he may not be able to open the door. I tried the handle, and it was open.

I called out nervously, “Soren, It’s Sawyer.”

Complete silence met me. I glanced around and the house was untidy, which was surprising, but I knew that had to be a testament of how much pain he must be in. I could fix that. I walked toward the family room, but he wasn’t there. I hesitated to walk toward his bedroom, but that made the most logical sense, especially because of his injuries.

“Hey, Soren. It’s me,” I called out again as I neared his bedroom. The door was partially open, and he was asleep in the bed. His bare chest was above the blanket, his muscular chest and ribs were painted with purple bruises. His face had a cut above his brow. My heart clenched. I loved this man, and he had almost been taken from me permanently, and I hadn’t even told him how much he meant to me. He needed rest in order to heal, so I gently shut the door and set to work cleaning his home. I put away all the misplaced items, started a load of laundry, and scrubbed the kitchen from top to bottom. Travis had quietly brought my keys inside after retrieving my Jeep, to which I whispered, “Thank you.”

He said he was glad to see me, and if Soren asked, he was out checking water for the cattle. It was when I was carrying a rogue sock to the laundry room when I passed by the end table and saw it. A stack of books with colorful tabs sticking out with a highlighter and pen laid on top. It appeared as if he had been studying the books with exceptional detail. The top book snagged my attention as I set down the sock and looked more closely. The title read How to Love Someone Who Has Experienced Childhood Trauma . My heart immediately stopped and my nose burned with emotion. I lifted the next book with trembling hands and it was more of the same. Five books, highlighted throughout, with tabs marking sections on how to be supportive of someone you love. He’d truly loved me.

As I stacked the books back on the end table, I had an unnerving feeling that I was being watched. I turned and Soren stood at the end of the hallway with a mask of confusion on his face. One hand was braced on the wall and the other wrapped around his bare bruised ribs. Gray sweatpants hung from his narrow waist.

“I see you still make a habit of trespassing.” His voice was gravelly from sleep.

“Soren,” I whispered as my eyes took him in. He was still the steady, handsome man I knew him to be.

“Sawyer,” he countered. My heart sank that he didn’t call me Pretty Girl.

My fingers reached for my chain.

“I didn’t know you were hurt,” I explained, trying to keep my voice from breaking.

My brain raced with all the thoughts going through my head. Cataloging his injuries. Should he be standing? There was a crease in his brow that spoke of pain.

“Sawyer, why are you here?”

His voice had an edge of honesty and pain. Pain I had put there. My eyes welled, and I broke eye contact because I couldn’t keep looking at the pain I had caused. I had hurt him, and I wasn’t sure if I could ever undo that pain.

“I hurt you.” My voice broke and I worked to keep it together. He quietly cleared his throat. I blinked away tears and searched for the right words.

“I knew if I didn’t stay away, I would hurt you more deeply. I thought you would leave me, so I left you first.”

A tear trailed down my cheek, and I wiped it away immediately and turned away, toward the stack of books. I had to calm my racing heart if I was to be able to keep going. I took a shuddering breath as I felt the warmth of his body behind mine. He didn’t touch me, but he didn’t have to. His nearness was my undoing. A sob attempted to escape, but I willed myself not to cry as the back of my throat burned with emotion.

“What are you here for?” he asked and I turned to face him.

“You.”

His hazel eyes searched mine.

“I’m sorry.” My heart raced in my chest. “I’m sorry I pushed you away. I’m sorry I didn’t thank you for the flowers. They were beautiful. Every text—” I cut off before a sob broke free.

“Sawyer.” One word in his heartbroken voice held multitudes.

“I realized a lot of things lately,” I started, needing the weight off my chest. “I realized that I needed more help. I realized that I would never process things the way other people do. I realized I was going to hurt you. I realized I didn’t want to. I realized I couldn’t keep working in the system that raised me.” I took a deep breath as I continued my list. “I realized I love you, and it scares me to death.” His brows shot up at the last statement. “I know you have no reason to trust me, and I realize I’m not worthy of your love, but I want to try if you’re willing to try with me?” His brow creased.

“Come here.” He held out the hand not supporting his ribs. It was only two feet, but it felt like a trek across the Sahara as I stepped into him.

“You’re wrong.”

My nose burned, but I couldn’t look away from his eyes.

“You are worthy of my love by simply being you.” My breath shuddered and tears threatened.

“I want to love you how you deserve to be loved, but I don’t know how.”

“Then we’ll do the work together. I know things aren’t going to be perfect. We both have more baggage than an airline, but, Pretty Girl, I love you to the absolute core of my soul. I don’t want to live without you. You make every day special because you’re in it, and I want to spend the rest of my life loving you. Let me love you exactly as you are.” His voice was hoarse by the end of it, and I did what I wanted to from the moment I laid eyes on him. I buried my face against his chest as gently as I could and breathed deep. If home were a person, it would be him. I wanted my home to be him.

His hand came up to hold me, but he winced and I backed away.

“I’m sorry. I don’t want to hurt you.” I glanced toward his bruises.

“Can you help me back to the bed so I can hold you?”

We walked slowly to the bedroom, and I adjusted pillows around him where he could lie back as comfortably as possible. He tugged on my hand again, and I laid on top of his comforter and wrapped myself around his arm, too worried to touch his torso. My face pressed to his biceps, breathing him in. I kissed his warm, sun-tanned skin.

“My lips are jealous of my guns.” He smirked. My lips smiled against his skin. I never wanted to be away from him again.

“I love you, Cowboy.” I whispered the words as they still felt foreign, but also oh so right.

“I love you, Pretty Girl.” His thumb rubbed the back of my hand.

“I scheduled therapy again, and I quit my job. I also dyed the potato salad in my lunchbox with a ton of yellow food dye. Greg had bright yellow teeth for three days.” I blurted out a laugh, excited to tell him all the things. Greg was then forced to admit he’d been taking my lunch, saying that it was easier than making his own. He really was the worst. Soren laughed, holding his ribs.

“Atta girl,” he remarked. “How do you feel about all of that?” He was always concerned for me.

“My therapist is wonderful. Would you be okay going to a few sessions with me?” I asked.

“Sounds good. We could meet with George too,” Soren added, linking one of my hands with his. I hadn’t met his sponsor yet, but I wanted to.

“You’d be okay with that?” I asked.

“Anything for my girl,” he assured me, and I knew with certainty, I always wanted to be his.