Chapter 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 I know 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.
So, when I hear her sigh, I stay in my room, even if my stupid body aches with the need to help. I don’t want to encroach any more on this life of hers that was never supposed to involve me. Her being here is temporary. That was clear from the start.
But maybe this is an opportunity to help her without forcing myself in—to let her stay sleeping and take Noah off her hands for once. Suppose she never has that luxury with his dad being elsewhere.
I know Honey has a morning routine with Noah, but that’s usually for school days, and I was out on the ranch before they woke up yesterday, so I’m not sure if it’s different for weekends. Still, the last thing I’m going to do is wake her up and ask.
So, I suggest to Noah, ‘That’s okay, buddy. Why don’t we let her sleep and you can come with me while I check up on the ranch?’
The way his eyes bulge from his face with excitement is enough of a yes for me.
I get out of bed, throw on some wide legged jeans that fit over my cast and a plaid shirt, then quietly help him back upstairs to put something warmer on too.
He purposefully emphasises how he’s tiptoeing past his mom’s room, where the door is slightly ajar, and I have to bite back my chuckle so as not to wake her.
The people who don’t know Noah sure are missing out.
It doesn’t stop me from checking through the gap in her door, though, where I find her snoozing softly—hands clasped by her head, golden hair spread out like she’s floating, a slice of morning light filtering between the curtains and over her.
A goddamn sleeping angel. With space on the other side of the bed I once thought I’d fill.
‘Wow,’ Noah gasps, completely mesmerised by my dusty bull-riding dummy when I bring him into the old barn. ‘What’s that?’
He joined me on my walk around the ranch, checking in with as many ranchers as I could. Even helped me fix a broken fence—one of the few things I can actually assist with given my leg—holding my tools proudly, shoulders straight, and smile barely contained by his face.
But the best part? He even tried saying hello to a few of the ranchers in the mess hall all by himself when I took him up there to meet Bertha and grab some breakfast. Notably, only the ones wearing a hat, so I’m not sure if the full cowboy vibe seemed safer for him to engage with, or maybe it was because he also had Trixie with him, giving her strokes for comfort.
Sure would be nice to think I might’ve had a small influence on him too.
Regardless, I was goddamn proud at him for trying.
‘That, buddy, is how I first learnt to bull ride. It’s a practice dummy.
Here.’ I hold out my arms for Noah and he happily walks into them, letting me pick him up and settle him on my hip.
It puts extra and probably unnecessary weight on my bad leg, but the pain is dulled by the unexpected warmth spreading through my chest as he clings to me even while I limp over to the dummy using only one crutch.
‘So, you sit here.’ I plop him onto the dummy, keeping my hands on him to make sure he’s steady. I nod toward the rope ahead. ‘You grab hold of that.’
He does eagerly, and I chance letting him go, but he stays put, the corners of his mouth twitching with excitement. I slowly duck under one of the ropes, standing between them, and run my hands up either one, readying to pull.
‘And then I’ll yank these to make the dummy buck. You gotta promise me to hold on tight, okay?’
‘Yes, sir.’ He gives me an assured nod, and I can’t help but laugh. It’s funny how easily laughter comes to me around this kid.
Carefully, I give the rope on my left a tug and the dummy bucks to the side.
‘Woah!’ Noah’s eyes go wide as saucers, his little fists grasping the rope tighter, but it’s the giggles ringing out of him as the dummy slowly rocks that has my heart beating faster. Even Trixie lets out some happy yaps as she watches.
So, I keep pulling the ropes. Switching between them and watching with overflowing pride as Noah holds onto his rope for dear life but beams the whole time and kicks his legs excitedly.
I can’t help but marvel at this shy boy suddenly glowing with courage and joy, knowing I brought that out of him.
It leaves a humming in my bones that almost has me wanting to keep creating situations like this for him.
It reminds me of the satisfaction I get from riding—the kind I’ve been craving more and more as the days go by. That rush my soul lives off.
Gradually, and conscious not to make him sick from too much movement, I slow down the dummy and steady it for Noah, then say, ‘You’re gonna make one hell of a cowboy one day, buddy.’
His responding grin is brighter than all the trophies I’ve won.
‘Hey, Sawyer.’ I check over my shoulder to find one of the ranchers, Gus, leaning in the doorway to the barn. He’s in his late thirties with brown hair that skims his jaw. Noah’s smile immediately dampens when he notices Gus.
I give his leg a quick squeeze of reassurance then turn around. ‘Alright, Gus?’
He nods towards where Noah sits, a brow perked with intrigue. ‘You doing lessons now?’
‘Oh.’ I let out a hearty chuckle. Can understand why the idea of me teaching kids would be a shock. ‘Nah, just showing Noah the ranch. Noah is Honey’s kid.’
Noah gives him a timid wave, and Gus tips his hat in return which coaxes Noah’s smile out further.
‘Ah. Honey the pretty blonde you got staying with ya?’
My tightened jaw makes it harder to get the words out calmly, and I try to shrug off the way my shoulders have suddenly pitched higher. Because he’s allowed to call Honey pretty—anyone can see that she is. But more importantly, she’s not mine.
‘Yup, that’ll be her. An old friend.’
‘Noted,’ he smirks, and I curse myself internally for being so transparent.
I blame the broken leg. It’s thrown me off my game.
‘I was looking for you actually to ask if you had any recommendations for riding schools. My boy, he’s eleven now, wants to give it a go.
Follow in the footsteps of the great Sawyer Nash.
’ His eyes dart down to my leg and he snorts.
‘Though I’d rather not deal with the medical bills for a broken leg. ’
‘Don’t blame you,’ I laugh out.
Noah reaches out to poke me and suggests, ‘Why don’t you teach him here? You could start your own school.’
The gaps where he’s lost a few teeth are even more prominent as he smiles at me, excited by his sudden idea.
But he’s not considering the future—in a few months I’ll be out of here again.
Maybe if I had something to keep me in Willow Ridge, if I was like everyone else making families, I’d have a reason to stay, and then yeah—a bull-riding school on Lucky Star would be pretty cool.
I sure would’ve liked having one when I grew up.
Had to rely on the ranchers to teach me.