Chapter 34
Sawyer
Noah could be anywhere.
A big ranch like Lucky Star isn’t a safe place for a kid in the dark, let alone when it’s freezing outside, and Noah’s only dressed in his Christmas pyjamas.
There’s big animals and barbed wire and even pockets of forest to get lost in.
I would know, I spent plenty of nights alone running off into this ranch to discover safety and it was never easy to find.
Noah doesn’t know his way around this place well enough to just be running off like that—hopefully his little legs can’t have carried him that far either. It’s the only thought that keeps the rising panic from consuming me.
Still, the snow flurries down now, harsher than before, and it’s only a matter of time before the footprints disappear under the new layer.
‘Noah!’ I call out, fumbling for my phone to press the flashlight button as I hurry down the steps and seek out the footprints. Despite my leg protesting with a sharp slicing pain each time my foot hits the hard, compacted ground, I run, following the little footprints and shouting for Noah.
Gray’s voice sounds in the background, calling for me, so I shout back, ‘He’s run off into the ranch!’
The biting December wind carries his curse all the way to my ears, and it urges me to run faster.
Fuelled by the disdain that laced Gray’s words only moments ago, by the evident lack of trust he had in me to look after his family.
I can’t prove him right now. Not after I’ve just yelled at his kid and forced him away into the dark and bitter night.
I don’t know what I’ll do if he gets hurt.
Why did I have to shout at him like that?
What the fuck is wrong with me?
The harsh wind whips at my face in my hurry, the snow splatting against my frozen cheeks, soaking my clothes as I run.
The only silver lining is that Noah’s footprints seem to be heading exactly where I suspected he might run—the old barn with my practice dummy—it was either that or he was going to look for Kentucky.
So, I power on, throat hoarse as I continue shouting his name.
Distant flashlights roam the ranch, trembling voices sailing along the wind, nipping at my skin if only to remind me that I caused the pain and worry they’re feeling.
I’m metres away from the barn when the footprints start to fade away.
Just before the turn to the barn.
Where the dirt road splits off three ways.
I chance the gut feeling in my stomach and still run into the barn. The doors fly open and—
Nothing. Darkness. Silence.
No Noah.
Just my old practice dummy sitting there, taunting me.
Where the hell is he?
The only other option has to be Kentucky, surely.
I don’t bother shutting the barn doors, just barrel out of there as blood rushes in my ears. Dread pounds in my head, just about overpowering the memories of too many nights running away myself on this ranch after my own father shouted at me.
There’s new footprints now which must be Gray’s, so I pick up my pace and power on in their direction, which would take us towards where we keep the cattle. There’s muffled sounds in the distance, and a flashlight sweeping around—until it stops, then disappears.
And that’s when Noah’s distant cry splits through the air.
Adrenaline pumps through my veins at an alarming rate, my vision blurring at the edges as I force myself to sprint as fast as possible towards the sound despite the pain screaming in my leg.
It’s only a few more seconds before I see them—Gray crouched down beside a fence, his arms wrapped around a sobbing Noah.
I don’t stop running, not until I’m closer and see how Gray holds Noah’s arm as fat tears roll down his cheeks, glistening under the moonlight. Not until I see the blood staining Noah’s pyjamas. Not until I see the gash across his arm.
That’s when I freeze.
He must have cut it on the barbed wire.
Gray coos at Noah, trying to soothe him, and the little boy clings to his father. My hands itch to scoop him up myself, to shower him in cuddles and apologies, to prove to him that I love him really. That I never meant to upset him. Hurt him.
I step forward. ‘Noah—’
Gray’s stormy eyes shoot up to me and rage flickers in them. ‘I told you this was no place for him. Look what you’ve done.’
Look what you’ve done.
Noah blubbers, his words muddled by his uncontrollable sobbing and from how he presses his face into his father’s chest. One glance at his wound again tears me apart, my heart cracking at the pain he must be in, my chest caving in as the air suddenly feels thicker, heavier, harder to breathe down.
Gray’s right. Noah ran because of me.
He got hurt because of me.
Because I shouted at him.
Lightning strikes my mind in that very moment—a quick flash of Honey leaving my truck cab over nine years ago. Leaving me because she didn’t want to be dragged along my rocky path, because I was too broken, too fucked-up.
Words of her, Gray, and my father whirl around my mind, the pressure in my head increasing.
How humiliating it is that I tried to convince myself Honey still looking for a place to buy wasn’t a bad sign—of course she doesn’t want to bring her son up here forever.
I’m a novelty, fun for Noah to be around for now, but it won’t last. He needs someone stable, someone that knows how to love properly.
How could I possibly be that?
Because no matter how many kisses Honey presses to my scars, no matter how many pictures we draw over the bad memories in the house, I’ll always be the same broken Sawyer Nash.
My footsteps backward begin slowly, the crisp snow crumbling beneath my feet.
Gray hefts Noah up into his arms to carry him, turning away from me as he does so, and I take it as my chance to run.
My eyes snap onto the other end of the ranch, where it would be in the dark, and fear drives me, filling my bones with fire.
Every pound of my feet against the snowy ground begins to drown out the agonising thoughts tumbling about my mind.
When I reach the turn in the road, three figures catch my attention from the corner of my eye, yet I don’t cease my pace or change my direction back to them.
I can’t face her disappointment. Can’t be there to witness the realisation dawning on her face of who I’ve always been when she sees what I’ve caused.
‘Sawyer!’ Honey calls after me, pleading.
But I don’t look back. Just keep racing through the snow.
Because I know this ranch like the back of my hand. I know all the best places to hide, to escape through. To run away from the crippling fear, the numbing pain, and heavy reminders that I’ll never be good enough that wait behind for me.