Chapter 9 Sawyer
NINE
SAWYER
There’s a heavy tension I know I’m responsible for, but it’s impossible to get out of.
I can’t escape her words, her soft stare and gentle voice.
I don’t want to deny the fact that she’d been right—or maybe wrong.
My head is a mess, a mixture of her sweet cries as she came on my fingers and her touch as she held my hand over her moving stomach.
I can’t escape, but I can tell she wants to.
And maybe that’s the only thing I can actually offer her.
A way out.
I pack on layers, fully prepared for how freezing the outside world is going to be. The snowstorm is mostly over. Now, we’re just waiting for the roads to be cleared and word to be sent that the power is back on for the affected grids. Then, Skye can leave.
But I don’t want her to. It’s a hard pill to swallow. For so long, I’ve been happy with my quiet, unassuming life. I do the bare minimum to survive and get through a world not meant for me.
Then, this woman comes in and knocks it all down.
And I just let her.
I don’t want her gone. I don’t want the silence, but I know I’m too much of a coward—too selfish, too broken—to fight for her in the way she deserves.
Who would want a broken man like me?
I make it to the door, only to be stopped by a hand on my forearm. I barely look down, because I know if I meet those bright, endlessly blue eyes, I might give in. And that isn’t fair to her.
“Where are you going?” she asks quietly, the hand on my forearm tightening as the other shifts to her belly. “Are you leaving?”
A lump forms in my throat as I shake my head. “I’m going to see if the power is back on at your house. Make sure there’s no damage from the storm now that it’s let up.”
Skye blinks hard, confusion darkening her eyes. “Let me come with you, then—”
“No,” I say firmly, taking her hand. “There’s no point in you coming out in the cold.”
Her brows furrow, lips parting with another question. But instead of responding, she winces and takes a step back. “Okay,” she says, releasing a long, slow breath. “Fine.”
I frown and take her in, but the moment of pain passes, and her expression goes from confusion to resolve.
And yet, my heart stutters for a moment. Since we got here and she said she had it under control, there’s been no sign of her giving birth. Nothing to support the idea that the baby is coming.
That small wince feels like the lighting of a match already falling towards gasoline. Once it hits, everything is going to explode.
As she takes another step away, I move towards her. “What’s wrong?” I ask, stopping before I can touch her.
All I want to do is pull her into my arms. To make sure she’s okay, but I hold myself back. Her words repeat in my head: I can’t play around like this. Not with you. They keep me from offering her any comfort, from holding her how I want to. And it’s fucking painful.
“Nothing.” She shakes her head slowly, rubbing circles along her stomach. “I’m fine. Go.”
I hesitate, heart racing. “If you need me to stay…”
Again, Skye shakes her head and offers me a stiff smile. “No. I’m fine. Seriously. I appreciate you going out and checking on the house. Let me get you the keys.”
Something sinks into the pit of my stomach as I watch her go to her purse. There’s a nagging feeling in the back of my head that tells me something’s wrong, that danger is ahead and to not go further.
But Skye returns with a half-smile and hands me her keys. “If it’s clear, could you move my truck into the driveway?” she asks softly. “That’s if it’s survived living on the side of the road.”
Pressure builds in my chest, but I make myself nod. “I’ve got you.”
I hope that’s a promise I can keep.
After getting her truck into the driveway, finding her go-bags by the front door, and making sure the power is working and clearing out her fridge and freezer, I get into my truck. The sentiment from earlier grows, building heavier and heavier the longer I’m away from Skye.
It’s a terrifying, unsettling feeling that had me rushing through my plans just to get back to her sooner.
Pulling away from her house, I get onto her street behind a snowplough. A harsh breath falls from my lips as I slow to a crawl behind it, drumming my fingers on the steering wheel in frustration.
If there was good cell service, I’d call Sky to make sure she’s okay.
But my cell, sitting in the dock on my dash, has no bars, and I doubt hers is charged.
The urge to check in and make sure there’s nothing wrong is overwhelming.
Being stuck behind the massive, slow vehicle as it pushes snow off the road is like torture.
“Fucking hell,” I mutter, cutting off onto a side street. One perk of living in a small town is knowing all the shortcuts, and as I make my way down a residential street that opens onto main, I breathe a sigh of relief.
Until I catch sight of a stalled SUV ahead.
I slow, noticing a tall blonde standing in front of the hood, hands resting on her hips. She has on a snow jacket and a beanie, both of which look expensive, if I have to guess. And I know she’s not a local.
Despite the ache in my chest and the pressure telling me to go back to the cabin and check on Skye, I also know what she’d want me to do.
I pull over in front of the other woman and kill the engine of my truck. Without the rumble, I can hear her struggling vehicle. It’s how I know she isn’t local: nothing about her car looks ready for a Willow Ridge snowstorm.
Getting out of the truck, the woman rushes to meet me. “You wouldn’t happen to have service, would you?” she asks.
Closing the door, I shake my head. “What’s wrong?”
The woman huffs, crossing her arms as she looks over her shoulder. “I think something blew. There’s oil all over the hood, and I can’t find the cap for it. I just got it serviced.” Her eyes, deep brown, roll as they meet mine. “But it’s fine. Whatever. Do you know Hunter Gates?”
I stiffen but nod once. “Yeah. Lives on the mountain. Manages the mill.”
“And is helping me, supposedly.” She releases a breath, shivering. “You have no way of reaching him?”
I did, but it was at the cabin, but even then, I wasn’t sure of his number. He and I were acquaintances at best, knowing each other because we volunteered together. I mostly knew him through Noah, who used to be his cadet at the firehouse.
“I’m sorry,” I murmur, looking around. Further away, I spot Daisy’s Bar, a local hub with its lights on. If there’s one place that’ll always have power and someone inside, it’s there. “I’ll drive you further up to the bar. If he’s coming to get you, then he’ll know to find you in there.”
The woman glances around me at the building and sighs. “Better than waiting out here, I guess,” she says with a grim smile. “Thank you.”
I nod once, unable to ignore the pressure anymore. It feels as though my chest is going to explode. I’ve never felt anxiety like this, and to think it’s because I left Skye alone…
My jaw clenches as I help the woman into my truck. Jumping in without a word, I crank the heat and pull away.
“I’m Sylvie,” she says quietly as I pull away from her SUV. “Sylvie Madden.”
I glance over at her, the name tickling at something. But I can’t place how I know it. “Sawyer.”
“Well, thank you for the rescue, Sawyer,” she says with a smile. “Hopefully, I’ll see you around for the firehouse fundraiser.”
I don’t have time to respond as I pull into the bar. As soon as the truck stops, she jumps out, giving me a small wave.
I just shake my head and get the hell out of there.
I have a girl to see, and I’m done making her wait.
As I pull into the cabin, the feeling grows worse. I’m out of the truck before I can get Skye’s bag from the back, rushing up the porch and bursting through the front door, hands trembling.
At first, it doesn’t look like the cabin has been touched. The dishes are still in the drying rack from breakfast. All the blankets from my nights on the sofa are neatly folded over the arm, with the pillows strategically placed for Skye’s comfort.
But there is no Skye.
My heart skips before crashing painfully into my ribs as I leave the front door open.
The fire’s gone down, flames small and licking tiredly at what remains of the logs.
Even though I’m usually the one to feed the fire, she knows how to stoke it.
On the rare occasions I forget, I usually find her doing it herself.
She’s no damsel in distress, and I know she can take care of herself.
But right now, I can’t get my brain to compute. Her purse is still where she left it this morning, coat hanging by the door.
I check the bedroom first, but I don’t find her within.
Not in the mountain of pillows that help her sleep.
Not among the clothes she’s been rotating through since coming here.
Not at the window looking over the small smattering of snow-covered trees and the remnants of an outdoor seating area someone erected for the short-term lodgers.
Over the pounding of my heart, I hear water. I try to calm my breathing and racing heart just enough to focus.
The shower.
I don’t even think beyond that. The tightness is still a force in my chest. All I remember is that single wince this morning. The flash of pain in her eyes.
The bathroom door is unlocked, allowing me in. What I find has me stopping completely.
Skye, hands braced on the shower wall while water beats down on her lower back, head bowed as she breathes through what I can only assume are contractions.
Contractions.
She’s in labour.
“What do you need from me?” I ask, shucking off my coat.
Skye looks up, surprise widening her blue eyes. “S-sawyer?” she stutters, a flush darkening her cheeks. “What are you—”
I roll my sleeves up. “How far along?”
For a moment, she stares at me in shock, her breaths coming faster. “Not far enough to be an emergency,” she says on a breath, squeezing her eyes shut, groaning. “I’ve got this under control. You don’t need to be here.”
But seeing her in pain makes it all clear in my head: I don’t want to be anywhere else. I don’t want to sit on the sidelines of life anymore. I want to do this with her.
Pumping soap into my hands, I shake my head.
“I’m not going anywhere, baby girl. I’ve got you.
Now, tell me what you want to do. You want me to take you to the hospital?
I have your go-bag in the truck. You want to spread out on the bed?
We’ll do that. But I’ve got you, okay? I’m here no matter what. I’m yours.”