Chapter 7 #2
Noah nods enthusiastically. Carefully, he climbs onto the couch, pencils in hand, and Trixie whines from the loss of attention.
Noah’s twinkling eyes give away far more of his eagerness than the timid way he shuffles along the cushions to my leg.
Still, once he’s chosen the red pencil, he hesitates, eyes darting up to me and back to my cast in the same shy way Honey used to.
It melts away all the apprehension in me about looking after him.
I guess he’s basically a mini, boy version of Honey—and I did a good job of bringing her out of her shell once.
It just took some perseverance and kindness.
‘Don’t worry, you won’t hurt me, buddy.’
With a toothy smile, Noah gets to it, starting to draw out what appears to be—yep, what a surprise, a cowboy. It’s another stick figure with a cowboy hat, holding some rope, and once he’s finished that, he starts on a very loose portrayal of a rather overweight horse.
I can’t help but chuckle. Honey wasn’t lying when she said he was obsessed. ‘You sure do like cowboys, don’t you?’
The intensity in which he concentrates on drawing, tongue caught between his teeth, only highlights the passion brimming from him. That he definitely inherited from his mom too.
‘Yes, sir.’
‘You can just call me Sawyer, y’know?’
That has him blinking those big eyes at me. ‘Okay. Thanks, Sawyer.’
Nice. We’re on a first-name basis now. I’m going to take that as a win.
Next question. ‘You wanna be a cowboy when you grow up?’
His eyes light up at that question. ‘Oh yeah.’ He taps his pencil against his chin as his forehead creases, deep in whatever thoughts could possibly be wracking his little brain. Then he sighs out, so dramatically I stifle a laugh with my fist, ‘I just don’t know what kind of cowboy yet.’
Now we’re getting into my expertise.
And clearly a topic that he feels more comfortable talking about.
Interlocking my hands, I stretch my arms behind my head so I can rest back on them, relaxing into the couch. I realise then that it was a bull he was drawing, not a horse. Makes a lot more sense now. Especially with the horns.
‘Well, what are your options?’
‘Bull riding, obviously.’ He waves his pencil towards me and a grin spreads through my cheeks. If all kids were like this, I’d probably like them a bit more. He’s hilarious and I don’t think he means to be.
‘Obviously. Only the best do that,’ I respond, raising a brow to see what reaction I get. I’m rewarded with a smile he tries to hide by keeping his head down, but it still feels like I just won the next level of this babysitting game. It’s not quite winning a riding competition, but it’s close.
‘Yeah, but bronc riding is pretty cool too, and steer roping.’ Damn, this kid knows his rodeos.
Pretty sure all I was interested in when I was six was besting Wolfman in our play fights and making mud pies.
Honey must be educating him well—I wonder if she ever showed him any of my competitions.
If that’s why he said he was a huge fan.
I don’t get a moment to consider the warmth building in my chest at the thought, as Noah then adds, ‘I can’t do team roping though, you need friends for that.’
And that’s when all that warmth dissipates, my heart dropping with it. He says it so matter of factly, no emotion on his face—that’s what gets me the most.
‘What do you mean?’
Noah just shrugs, keeping his head down as he draws for longer.
‘Hey,’ I lean forward. ‘You don’t need any more friends. You know why?’
Noah shakes his head, lower lip slightly pouting.
Oh fuck, please don’t cry.
That would be just my luck—the tears start pouring and then Honey turns up. What the hell have you done to my kid?
So, I quickly continue, throwing out a smile I hope will coerce even the smallest of ones from him. ‘’Cause I’m your friend, and I’m the coolest friend you could ever have. You’ve already hit the jackpot.’
His laugh is half snort, half giggle. ‘You’re too old to be my friend, Sawyer.’
‘Uh, that’s rude. I’m not old.’ I cross my arms, pouting back at him, but Noah simply raises his brows at me, as if to say, sure, you keep telling yourself that. The cheek of him. ‘How old do you think I am?’
Blue eyes scan my face, really inspecting every inch of it. He narrows them for a second before he announces, ‘Forty.’
‘Fuck off, I am not forty,’ I cry back, extremely concerned the stress of the last month has given me more wrinkles than I realised, then I immediately smack a hand over my mouth, realising I just told a kid to fuck off.
Mouth forming a perfect O, Noah just stares at me with wide eyes. But it only lasts a short moment before he falls back onto the couch in a fit of giggles and shrieks, ‘Sawyer! That’s a bad word, you can’t say that!’
‘Shit, I’m sorry—fuck!’ I rub my palms over my face. ‘I can’t stop!’ My head snaps back down to watch Noah try to compose himself amidst his laughter as he sits up again, and I beg, ‘Please don’t tell your mom.’
‘Momma hates swearing.’
‘I’ll do anything.’
Possibilities filling his eyes, Noah bunches his mouth to the side as he regards me. Then he offers, ‘I won’t tell her if you let me ride a bull.’
Jesus Christ, this kid ain’t playing.
‘I don’t have any bulls you can ride, but I do have a cow that you can play fetch with,’ I suggest.
Noah considers the counteroffer for too long given that there was never a chance in hell I was going to let him ride a bull. I’d much rather Honey found out I swore in front of him than he had a matching broken leg to mine.
Eventually, Noah declares, throwing his little hand out, ‘Deal.’
We shake on it and Noah scrambles off the couch, abandoning his masterpiece on my cast and leaving me with half drawn cows gracing my leg.
He even grabs my crutches for me, holding them out as I swivel off the couch, and I wonder what it’s like to be overflowing with so much kindness and passion like him.
Even if he doesn’t talk to people like he does to me, I bet he leaves a damn big impact on everyone he interacts with.
‘Sawyer?’ he calls up to me just as I’m about to move. When I look down, his bright eyes are filled with awe and what scarily looks like hope. ‘Thanks for being my friend.’
I almost stumble from the weight in my heart at his words, and the realisation that I think I rather like trying to make this kid smile. Just like I did with his mom.