14. Sawyer
CHAPTER 14
Sawyer
STUCK IN THE MIDDLE
The park.
Ella loves it. I … don’t.
You ask me to my face if I’m a fan of Hartsville’s newly revamped playground with its infinite number of swings, slightly terrifying slides (they are tall) , and the adorable seesaws that are shaped like dragonflies, I’d tell you that yes, yes I most certainly am. Ella digs it, so I do too.
Only when you spend as much time at the park as I do, you get a little antsy when you’re there. At least I do. Don’t get me wrong, sometimes I do enjoy playing with Ella here. The two of us dig in the sandbox, making mermaid shapes with our hands. She’ll ask me to sit on the swing beside her so I can teach her how to pump. She’s almost got it.
But other times, like today, I’m really, really glad we’re meeting friends here. Hopefully Junie will keep Ella entertained so Ava and I can take a load off. The prospect of being able to just sit, especially after the morning we’ve had, is more than a little exciting.
Tucking a purple-and-pink soccer ball under my arm, I slide on my sunglasses and wonder who the fuck I think I’m kidding. I’m not excited to sit.
I’m excited to see Ava.
“Daddy.” Ella tugs on my free hand. “I don’t see Junie yet. How will she play soccer with me if she’s not here?”
“She’ll be here. We have to be patient.”
Ella pouts. “Waiting is hard.”
“I know. But we can do hard things, right?”
Ella sighs. “Maybe.” Then she takes off toward the little climbing wall that leads up to one of the smaller slides.
My smile settles in the pit of my stomach. I’m so fucking proud of my baby. Proud of us. Because turns out that teaching your kid how to talk about her feelings is a great way to get you talking about yours too. Or at least thinking about talking about them.
I’ve thought a lot about the feelings I have for Ava.
Out of all the people I was expecting to see at the barn raising, she was not one of them. I was surprised.
I was turned on.
Am . I am turned on whenever an image of her pops into my head. Which is often.
All the time. I think about the woman all the damn time. Which is terrifying. And awesome.
I don’t know what my next move should be. I still have no idea what I want when it comes to Ava. Sex is a given. But the way I’ve thought about her nonstop—maybe I really do want more than a hookup?
My stomach bottoms out at the idea of wholeheartedly pursuing Ava. I clearly haven’t had great experiences dating. I’ve chalked that up to not being with the right person. What if I just suck at it, though?
What if I get invested, but Ava isn’t feeling it? What if Ella gets invested, and Ava and I have some kind of horrible, messy breakup? The kid’s already been through so much with her mom being gone and her dad being pulled in a thousand different directions.
I’ve been through so much. Heartbreak over losing my parents. Heartbreak over the fact that Lizzie and I never panned out.
That shit crushed me. I’m worried if I get crushed again, Ella will end up as collateral damage. I’ve worked hard to create our happy little life. Could things be better? Absolutely.
Is it worth risking our hard-won peace? I don’t know.
“Mr. Sawyer!”
I glance over my shoulder. I’m smiling all over again at the sight of the little girl in braids and cowboy boots making a beeline for me. She’s holding up a hand, which is covered in Band-Aids.
Lots and lots of colorful Band-Aids.
“Look!” She waves her hand. “I got new ones! They’re Bluey . I love them!”
“Well hey there, Junie! Lemme see what you got.” I hold out my hand, palm up, and she places her little hand in mine. I let out a long, low whistle. “Dang, girl. That’s impressive.”
“Thanks. Mommy said I could only have one, but I took more than that.”
“You took the whole box, you little sneak!”
I look up at the familiar voice. A weird trick of gravity that has me suddenly laboring for breath. Since when are my lungs not compatible with oxygen?
Ava strides toward me, her long, loose hair blowing back from her face as she walks. She’s wearing aviators, a smile, and a pink jacket that looks so fucking pretty on her.
She is so fucking pretty.
“Hey!” She nods at the ball I’m holding. “I’m so glad you brought that. Junie was in one of those little soccer leagues over the summer?—”
“Soccer Start.” I bite my tongue to keep from swallowing it. “Ella did it in the fall.”
Ava lowers her voice. “It’s hilarious, isn’t it? The way they have more interest in the dandelions growing on the field than the ball? You couldn’t pay Junie to listen to her coach. She just sat there and picked flowers, happy as a clam not to participate.”
“I would have to drag Ella to practice. It wasn’t fun for anyone.”
“To be fair, soccer is pretty boring.”
“Right?” I need to stop staring. Can’t. My chest burns. Somewhere in the background, I hear our girls happily shrieking. “Which is why I brought the ball. Wanted to bore y’all a little bit. Keep your expectations in check so you don’t fall too hard for Hartsville. We can’t have a barn raising with a live band and cold beer every day of the week.”
Ava’s smiling, showing a flash of white, even teeth. She digs in her bag and pulls out a plastic tub. “Good thing I brought sidewalk chalk, then.”
“Please tell me you have cold beer in that bag too.”
She laughs. “No dice. I wasn’t sure what the open container laws are here.”
“Next time.” I don’t know how I manage to say the words with my heart lodged inside my mouth. It’s forward of me to assume there will be a next time.
I’m showing her my cards. Well. A card. One that screams you make me forget myself.
Ava turns away to look at the girls. There’s a catch in my gut. Shit, twenty seconds into our conversation, and I’ve already gone too far. Time to backtrack.
She beats me to it. Keeping her eyes on the girls, who are currently following each other around as they dart across the playground with big old smiles on their faces, Ava says, “Y’all have a good morning?”
The easy answer is on the tip of my tongue . This morning was fine. We got it done. Got out of the house on time, at the very least .
“It was a shit show, actually.”
Wow.
Wow.
Way to keep forgetting myself. My face is hot. I run my free hand over it, wondering vaguely if I’m experiencing some kind of catastrophic neurological event. Ava just made very clear she wants to keep this conversation friendly. Light. Easy.
Then I went and bulldozed ahead with one hell of a truth.
But Ava just chuckles, setting the chalk down on the latticed metal bench beside us. “Same. Why is it so effing hard for them to get dressed and brush their teeth? Never mind putting on their shoes.”
“The shoes .” I groan. “So. Many. Tears. Ella’s, and mine.”
Ava looks at me again. “But seriously, most mornings I do want to cry. I guess I was a nightmare too as a kid—my mom swears up and down that it took an act of God to get me out of bed—but I don’t remember ever being that bad. I was also a middle child, so I think my mom forgets a lot about me. You know, gets me mixed up with my sisters.”
“Classic middle child, insisting no one remembers jack about you.”
Her lips twitch. I’m hit by the memory of just how soft they are, how sweetly hot they tasted. “You sound like you know what you’re talking about.”
“Number three out of five.” Glancing at the playground, I see Ella and Junie giggling on one of the seesaws. I also see a guy shamelessly checking out Ava while he pushes his kid on a swing.
I scowl at him. He looks away.
My pulse skips a beat. I felt jealous watching guys check out Ava at the barn raising too. What’s up with that? Cash is the possessive one. Not that long ago, he clocked some guy square in the face for hurting Mollie’s feelings.
Me? I’ve never felt remotely territorial over a woman. But all of a sudden, I’m gripped by the need to keep that dickhead away from Ava.
Keep all the dickheads away from her. Which scares me.
I gotta pump the brakes. This is a playdate, for fuck’s sake. We’re here for the kids.
I can keep it fucking simple.
Easier said than done when the sense of freedom I felt back in Austin is carrying over into all my interactions with Ava. There’s no pressure to be anything other than myself when I’m with her.
“I’m number two out of three. But five of y’all?” Ava lets out a low whistle. “Bet you had to throw some elbows.”
I shrug, nodding at the bench. “You wanna sit?”
I tell myself I’m asking her that because sitting is more comfortable than standing. That’s it. My request has nothing at all to do with the fact that Wandering-Eye Asshole won’t be able to see her backside if she sits.
Because goddamn, her ass is a sight for sore eyes in those jeans.
“ Yes .” The word comes out of her mouth in a relieved rush.
My heart twists. Just how tired is she?
“This is why I love playdates,” she continues. “It sounds terrible?—”
“No it doesn’t.” I hold out my arm. “Playdates equal minimal parental participation, which equals?—”
“Bliss.” Sitting, she sighs and stretches out her legs. “I mean, the girls also get some socialization and exercise in. We’re not being total bums by sitting here.”
I try not to stare—I’m not a legs guy, but maybe I am?—and sit beside her, careful to keep an appropriate amount of distance between us.
Which is difficult. Ava gets it. She’s not judgmental. Her honesty about how hard this parenting shit is—it’s a breath of fresh air. Makes me wanna lean in. Know more.
Get closer, because this—our connection—feels easy. Safe.
She’s wearing sunglasses, so it’s impossible to tell. But behind the lenses I catch her eyelashes fluttering, like she’s giving me a long, hot look up and down.
Maybe that’s why I sense the charge in the air between us.
Ignoring it, I settle my ankle over my knee and clamp my hand over my jeans. Less chance of me reaching for her this way. Because sitting beside Ava makes me think of the time she sat on me. The slow, breathless way she sank onto my dick as I cupped her tits and tried desperately not to come too fast.
Did that really happen? Because going from that to this is a mindfuck of the first degree.
“So. Number three of five.” Ava crosses her legs at the ankles. “I felt like I got lost in the shuffle a lot with three kids in the house. I can only imagine what it was like with five of y’all. Were you the peacekeeper? The troublemaker?”
I watch Ella zoom down one of the bigger slides, and let out a silent sigh of relief when she makes it down safely.
Am I also relieved that Ava is asking about my family? What does it mean that she wants to know more? I feel like I should proceed with caution.
Then again, I talk about my brothers with people all the time. How could I not? My family is my whole life.
“Wyatt was—is—the troublemaker.”
Ava nods. “I can see that. He and Sally are total opposites, but it works.”
“Never seen him happier. I guess I’d call Cash the peacekeeper, mostly because he had to be in control of everything. But me, I was the one who always showed up for my brothers.”
Ava clicks her tongue. “Aw. That’s sweet.”
“Yes and no.” I tip my head back and forth. “I always had this urge, or maybe this fantasy, of saving everyone. Keeping them safe.”
“From what?”
I scoff. “Themselves? Each other?”
“Example, please.”
Because of course she’d dig. Or, really, deepen the conversation. She’s not pushy. She’s just getting to know me. Which feels dangerous and thrilling and terrifying.
It’s just really freaking nice sitting down with a pretty girl on a sunny day. I’m relaxed, but also totally awake. Aware of the warmth in the breeze and the steady beat of my heart in a way I haven’t been for … weeks. Months.
Probably a sign I should get up. Stop this conversation from going any further, because the more I talk to Ava, the more I like her. Even if I knew what I wanted—which I don’t yet—what if Ava doesn’t want me? I’m not Wyatt. I’m not content to pine after someone until it makes me sick. I don’t have time for that shit.
Masochism must run in the family, however. Because next thing I know I’m saying, “I wasn’t always this way. My parents passed away in an accident when I was sixteen. I used to imagine that if I had just been there to shield them—catch them—warn them, maybe, I could’ve prevented the whole thing from happening. Magical thinking, yeah. But it helped me cope.”
Ava pushes her glasses into her hair and stares at me.
“Sorry.” I let out a thin chuckle. My entire being rings with shame. “If you suddenly have somewhere to be, I get it. A word vomit is almost worse than a real one.”
“Not if it’s projectile.” The woman grins.
She fucking grins , her eyes soft as she sits up. Angles herself so that she’s facing me, resting her elbow on the back of the bench.
Everything inside my rib cage—that softens too. Relief. Renewal.
I feel legitimately renewed, able to set aside the assumption that she doesn’t want to go deep. Hear this stuff.
She doesn’t get spooked easily. I like that.
“Fair point,” I manage around the emotion that grips my throat.
“That really and truly sucks about your parents.”
“It does suck.”
She squints a little, thoughtful. “How the hell are you doing this without them? Single parenting?”
I chuckle, for real this time. “Like I said, it’s a shit show.”
“But you’re so good at it.”
“Am I?”
“I’ve known you as a dad for all of, what, mere days, but I already know the answer to that question is an unequivocal yes.” The green in her eyes is so earnest. “I feel like you need a hug. Can I give you a hug?”
The emotion in my throat is making it difficult to breathe. A hug can’t hurt, right? I hug people all the time, and it’s always platonic.
A hug is, after all, just a fucking hug.
“I’d take a hug.”
“Thank God.” She leans in and wraps her arms around my neck. “I’d definitely have had somewhere to suddenly be if you’d said no.”
Leaning into her is as natural as pulling air through my nose and mouth. She’s warm, and she smells like flowers.
She holds me tight, so I curl my arms around her waist and hold her tight too. My body lights up like a night sky booming with heat lightning. At the same time, a strange, not-altogether-unpleasant feeling settles low in my stomach.
What on earth did I do to deserve a random run-in with such a beautiful person?
“I needed a hug too, I think,” she murmurs, and I have to resist the very strong urge to bury my face in her neck.
“Mommy?”
I immediately release Ava at the sound of the little voice.
“Yeah, Bug?” Ava asks.
“Why are you hugging Mr. Sawyer? Do you have big feelings?”
Ava’s eyes catch on mine for a single, searing beat before she drops her sunglasses back on her face. “Junie and I hug it out when those big feelings happen.”
“Hugs are the best, aren’t they, June?” I ask, noting how artfully Ava dodged her daughter’s question.
June smiles, and she looks like such a mirror image of her mama that I can’t help but smile too.
“The best,” she replies.
A tug on my sleeve. “Daddy, can you watch me go down the big slide? Please?”
I gasp, like I haven’t already watched her do it twelve times. “You’re gonna go down the big slide? That one? The really, really, really tall one?”
She giggles. “Yes!”
“Wait a second. Are you sure you’re big enough?” I cross my arms, and it hits home how light I feel despite the heavy things Ava and I have shared.
“Dad dy . I’m three and a half!”
I bop her on the nose. Cheeseball move, but can’t help it. She’s so fucking cute sometimes that I can’t stand it. “Then show me what you can do.”
She and Junie take off running again. They giggle like lunatics as they shoot down the slide. I whistle. Ava hollers. A minute later, the girls forget we’re there and busy themselves gathering sticks behind a blue plastic climbing igloo.
“I’m glad Ella’s taken to Junie so well.” I shift, draping my arm over the back of the bench. “She’s just so shy sometimes.”
Ava relaxes so that her shoulder almost meets with my fingertips. “Junie loves having someone to boss around.”
“I like a girl on a mission.”
Ava turns her head to look at me. “Of course you do.”
“That a dig?”
She sighs. “Just an observation. I still need an example, by the way. Of you putting on your superhero cape and saving all your brothers.”
“You really like talking about family.”
“That a dig?”
Only something I find incredibly attractive. “Just an observation.”
“Family is everything.” One side of Ava’s mouth kicks up as she looks out over the playground. “Hey, June, let’s not jam things up our noses, okay? That stick is gonna hurt if it gets stuck.”
“Okay, Mommy.”
“Anyway. Family is everything, whether it’s the one you’re born into, the one you find, or the one you make,” Ava continues. “So yeah, I’m curious about yours.”
Jesus, it’s like this girl read a manual titled Things That Turn Sawyer Rivers on an Absurd Amount.
She’s big on family. That mean she wants what I do? Marriage. More babies. Dogs and maybe some chickens and just the whole shebang.
“My younger brother Duke tried out for football back in high school. He was definitely going to make the JV team. Maybe even varsity. I was worried he’d get, like, paralyzed or something, because you hear all these horror stories?—”
“How much Varsity Blues were you watching at the time?”
“Too much. So I quit the varsity soccer team to make sure there’d be a spot for Duke instead.”
Ava looks at me. And looks.
I clear my throat. “Because, you know, soccer is a lot safer?—”
“Much safer.”
Her attention is unnerving. I can’t tell what she’s thinking.
“You loved soccer, though.” She says it like a fact.
How does she know?
Why does she care?
Is now a good time to ask her out on a date?
I shove the thought from my head. It’s too soon. Too much. We’re just fucking friends, damn it.
“I did love it.” What I don’t tell her? Coach Jenkins mentioned the possibility of me playing soccer at the college level. Maybe even getting a scholarship.
Not like I had the grades or the desire to go to college. Still hurt giving that up, though.
Still don’t regret it. Duke made the team and played all through high school. And I could sleep at night knowing he was safe. Knowing I’d showed up for him in a way I hadn’t been able to show up to save my parents.
Over the years, that sense of responsibility morphed into a twisted need to ensure I was never the one who needed saving. My brothers were hurting so much, carrying around so much grief, that I didn’t want them to take on my shit too. So I made damn sure I never added to their pain.
I made sure I could do everything in my power to take theirs away.
Ava’s doing it again, looking at me for an uncomfortable amount of time like she doesn’t quite know what to make of me. “That’s a pretty incredible thing for a high school kid to do.”
I lift a shoulder. “Family is everything.”
June and Ella reappear, begging us to help them draw unicorns with the sidewalk chalk. Ava and I pop up. Wandering-Eye Asshole notices.
I fall into it too easily—the fantasy that Ava is mine and the four of us are a family.
Fucked up? Yes. Supremely satisfying? Also yes.
I take a seat on the sidewalk beside the girls so that I shield them from Asshole’s line of sight. Feels … good.
Feels better to laugh with the girls as we sit in the sunshine and draw malformed unicorns that look more like cows than anything.
I remind myself that the fantasy isn’t real. Ava isn’t mine to protect. Ella and June are just friends.
Ava and I are just friends .
But it’s funny how accepting that truth requires so much pretending on my part. Because pretending not to want this woman—it’s a Herculean task.
I’m nothing if not a hard worker, though. I can do it.
I will do it. If only to protect the one girl who is mine.
A couple of hours later, Ella conks out, hard, on the drive home. I tell myself I’m proud I didn’t ask Ava for her number. Surely we’ll run into her and Junie again at some point, right?
But it’s regret that keeps me up way past my bedtime later that night.