14. Sawyer #2
I leave the room quickly, closing the door behind me, afraid she might throw my own dick at my head.
Once I locate my toolbox, I head to the bathroom to finish the flooring.
I prepare my workspace, laying out everything I need, and start measuring.
I cut several pieces, then reach behind my ear.
Where is my fucking pencil? I glance around, frantically searching for it, but it’s missing, like a roll of tape while wrapping presents.
I lean over and grab a Sharpie out of my toolbox, tucking it behind my ear. It takes longer than I expected to get all the flooring cut, and I’m just finishing the last piece when Jonah appears in the doorway between his room and the bathroom.
“Crap. You scared me, little man.”
His hands are plastered against his ears as his chest heaves. I turn off the saw and walk over, crouching in front of him.
“Too loud,” he huffs.
“I’m sorry, that’s my fault. I lost my pencil, and it took me longer than I expected.”
He won’t look at me, and he’s still breathing hard. Is this how his meltdowns start? I feel terrible that I might have triggered this. Reaching behind my ear, I grab the Sharpie, remove the cap with my teeth, then quickly draw a flame on my arm.
Jonah slowly uncovers his ears, interested in what I’m doing. “What’s that?”
“It’s a flame.”
“It doesn’t look like a flame. It looks like a blob.”
“You just gotta color it in. Do you have any markers?”
His eyes light up, and he runs into his room, returning seconds later with several markers.
I sit on the floor and hold out my arm as he adds colors, attempting to fix my piss-poor drawing.
When he finishes, he looks up at me, his eyes pleading, so I hand him the Sharpie and watch as he adds way cooler flames to my arm.
“Thank you for fixing my lights,” he says without looking up at me.
I think back to earlier in the week when I installed the dimmers in his room.
I could’ve sworn I’d turned off the breaker to his room, but it must’ve slipped my mind, and I zapped the hell outta my hand.
But the look on Jonah’s face right now makes it all worth it.
I did that for him. I brought him peace. If only I could do that for his mom.
The bathroom door swings open, and McKenna stands in the doorway with Raven right behind her.
McKenna’s eyes flick down to Jonah and go wide. “I wanna color!”
Jonah hands her the Sharpie, and she plops on the floor next to him, pulling my arm straight as she adds a few butterflies. I grin down at her, trying to ignore the way the marker tickles my skin.
She pulls my arm harder. “Stop wiggling.”
I try to stifle my laughter. “Sorry.” When I look up at Raven, I can’t decipher the look on her face.
“There’s plenty of real estate left if you want to add your mark on me,” I tease, hoping she’ll catch my subtext, but her brows pinch.
“Can Jane come over?” McKenna asks, and my gaze shifts back to her.
“Jane and Tommy are at their mom’s tonight.”
“Can Sawyer stay for dinner?” Jonah asks.
“There’s a developing story in Denver. Disgraced politician. Big scandal. My editor wants me to head over and get the scoop. I was gonna see if one of the moms could watch the kids at their place since I might be gone all night.”
“I can do it.”
She eyes me suspiciously.
“I mean, if it’s cool with these two,” I say, looking between McKenna and Jonah.
McKenna shrugs as she reaches for a different marker to continue coloring. Jonah rocks side to side as he looks at Raven with pleading eyes. “I don’t wanna sleep at someone else’s house. I wanna sleep in my bed.”
Raven blows out a breath.
“I can stay. I don’t have my kids tonight, so I can stay as long as you need me.”
“Are you sure?” She hugs her arms around her torso.
“Absolutely. I’ve got this.”
——————
Raven gives me a rundown on everything I need to know for Jonah. I can tell she’s nervous about leaving, but I’m great with kids. Once I shut the door, I turn to them, clapping my hands. “So, what do you want for dinner?”
“Jonah only eats mac and cheese,” McKenna says.
“Cuz it tastes the same every time. Some blueberries are squishy, or crunchy, or sweet, or sour, but mac and cheese is always the same,” he says, nodding.
“I totally get that. I love mac and cheese too.” I rub my belly, then turn to McKenna. “What do you want for dinner?”
“Whatever Jonah wants is fine.”
“Can you show me where everything is?” I ask her, hoping to talk to her alone.
She follows me into the kitchen as Jonah runs upstairs. “I don’t know how to cook. My mom says that I don’t have to conform to gender roles. My dad was gonna teach me, but then he died.” She says it so casually, like it’s not the most devastating thing I’ve ever heard.
My heart squeezes in my chest. I want to say something to comfort her—hell, I want to wrap her up in a hug. Instead, I change the subject, unsure of what else I could say. “Do you want to learn?”
She blinks up at me. “You can cook?”
“Yup. I can’t promise I’m any good, though. There’s a reason someone else took over at the firehouse.”
A small smile lights up her face. “You’d teach me?”
“Sure. So what do you really want for dinner?”
“Mac and cheese is fine.”
I shake my head. “That’s what Jonah wants. What do you want?”
“Mom says she’s not a short-order cook and she doesn’t have time to make two dinners.”
“Good thing I’m not your mom.”
“Yeah, your face is hairier.”
I laugh. “You have your mom’s sense of humor, I see. She’s a busy lady. I get why she might feel that way, but I have all night. So what do you want for dinner?”
She taps her chin as she considers her answer. “I want breakfast for dinner.”
“I like the way you think. Are we talking pancakes or waffles?”
“Pancakes. Pumpkin pancakes!” she says as her eyes get big. “And crunchy bacon. I don’t like when it’s floppy.”
“Yeah, floppy bacon’s the worst. You go to pick it up, thinking it’s gonna be amazing, and then it just hangs there like a wet noodle.”
McKenna giggles. “It does!”
I pull up a recipe on my phone and dig through the pantry for what I need. “So why pumpkin pancakes?”
“Jonah doesn’t like pancakes because they never look the same.”
“Makes sense.” I hold up my phone to show her the recipe, asking for silent approval.
She grabs my phone and starts typing into it. I like that she’s taking charge like her mom, and I smile to myself. “This one,” she says, pointing the phone back to me.
“Vegan pumpkin pancakes?”
“Yeah. There’s a boy in my class who has an egg allergy, and I figure if these taste good, I can share the leftovers with him at lunch tomorrow.”
“A boy, huh?”
She rolls her eyes. “He’s just a friend.”
I navigate around the kitchen, pulling out a pan and setting it on the stove.
“I thought you didn’t know where anything was?” McKenna eyes me suspiciously.
“I just said that to get you in here so I could find out what you really wanted to eat, but I didn’t want to upset Jonah just in case.”
She nods sagely. “How come I’ve never met you until you started working on our house?”
“Jane’s mom usually plans playdates. I’m terrible at keeping up with that stuff.”
“But you’re good at fixing houses.”
I drop a pat of butter into the pan as she walks over to join me. “Am I?”
“Yeah. Jane said you built her a bunk bed, and my friend Logan with the allergy said you built a giant bookshelf in his house with a rolling ladder.”
“That’s true, I did.”
McKenna drops her eyes to the floor. “If it’s not too much trouble, can you build something for me?” she asks softly.
I stare down at her, placing a hand on her shoulder. “I’d be honored to.”