Chapter 11
Honey
Waking up early gets harder this time of the year with the sun barely rising before me. But my quiet, alone time in the morning before the rush to get ready for school and then deal with teenagers all day is incredibly needed.
The house at Lucky Star is beautifully quiet this Thursday morning.
There’s not a peep from Noah since he’s still snoring in his room.
I’ve been on edge going to sleep every night this week since we moved in, anxious he’d have a bad dream like he often does or a restless night from the change of location, but he slept through last night, meaning I’m fresher than I expected this morning.
And a little disorientated at how easily he’s taking this all when I’m still struggling to get used to it.
To coming back from work each day to the muscly cowboy who once knew my deepest, darkest secrets and I never thought I’d see again.
To that same cowboy cooking dinner for us and making sure the fridge is stocked with too much ice cream to be good for Noah.
To watching Sawyer listen to Noah tell him about his day with such care, asking the right questions to make Noah open up and telling jokes that make him laugh so loudly.
It’s … not what I expected.
That’s why my morning stretches feel even more pertinent.
With my yoga mat tucked under my arm and a baggy sweater and leggings for defence against the chilly morning air, I head downstairs, ready for some stretches outside.
I wouldn’t usually do my yoga outside—I’ve never had the luxury of space for that before in my past homes—but when I’ve got the chance to stretch beside mountains and pastures sprinkled by morning light, it seems silly not to take advantage of that.
Makes me remember that moving in was a good decision too.
I take a deep, satisfied breath as I ease the back door open, aware that Sawyer’s bedroom is nearby.
I’m already conscious getting Noah ready for school will probably have him awake earlier than he’d like, and I’d like to make him regret his offer of having us here as little as possible.
As unsure as I am about staying here, I don’t need another sudden move to disrupt Noah’s life.
When I step outside, I relish the peaceful breeze and the silence-drenched land, a few visible dots of ranchers already working in the distance and … there’s grunting.
My head whips to my left, where I find a half-naked Sawyer doing a rather rigorous set of crunches on the deck floor.
He’s facing away from me, and despite the still-dim light of the morning, a sheen of perspiration coats and shimmers across his skin, highlighting the ridges of the muscles flexing in his back.
My hand grazes my throat as I swallow, taking in the sight of his solid, athletic body moving with such strength and ease, even more honed than when he was eighteen—
I shouldn’t be staring.
I shake my head and fumble for the door handle to head back inside—
‘Blue? You alright?’ Sawyer’s voice is laden with heavy breathing, my nickname coming out raspy.
Thankfully, by the time I turn back to him, he’s just finished pulling a T-shirt on, so I don’t have to be hit again with the sight of what I already know are an impressive set of abs.
‘Morning.’ I put on a polite smile and try to breathe as slowly as possible to calm my suddenly quickened heart. ‘I—I thought you were still asleep.’
‘Oh, no. Damn leg was hurting and woke me up. Happens a lot. Either that or my mind doesn’t shut up.
’ Sawyer pushes himself up to a stand, purposefully keeping his weight off his bad leg—the cast still covered in Noah’s drawings.
He might have hidden the rest of his torso, but the gym shorts he has on do nothing to conceal the rippling muscles in his legs.
Or the thick layer of blond hair covering them that has me swallowing again.
‘So, I thought I’d get a workout in before I head out onto the ranch this morning. ’
I notice the heavy dumbbells beside him then, along with what appear to be resistance bands. ‘Isn’t that bad for your leg?’
He shrugs, a half-smile appearing. ‘Not if I wanna get straight back into the circuit once it’s healed. Can’t let the rest of me waste away. My agent’s been hounding me every day to make sure I’m still exercising and stretching.’
Right, he mentioned that—about leaving in a few months once his leg is better. Back on the road where he so clearly belongs. I guess the house will just sit here waiting for him after that.
‘You always up this early?’ Sawyer asks.
‘Oh, um—’ Use your words, Honey. You’re not a shy schoolgirl anymore. ‘Yes. I usually, um, stretch in the morning before getting Noah up because he has to be in school before me. But I can do it later, when I’m back—’
‘Blue—’ He reaches for my arm, I think, his hand halting an inch or two away instead of connecting with me.
It warms my heart knowing he’s still respecting the boundaries on touch I had all those years ago.
I could easily tell him that I’ve worked on it in therapy, that I don’t mind people touching me so freely now, but something stops me.
A small warning in the back of my mind that maybe it would be better not to feel his skin against mine, for the sake of not churning up old memories.
‘You can stretch out here, I don’t mind.’
‘I don’t wanna get in your way. You’ve already done enough.
’ I shake my head, my words stumbling over themselves—mostly because I’m not sure if me watching him exercising is a good idea.
I’m not blind, I know he’s attractive—it’s almost too distracting.
And I don’t think my body’s completely forgotten that we’re not eighteen anymore, that I shouldn’t want to admire him the way I used to.
‘We’re gonna get in each other’s ways, Blue. It’s inevitable.’ Effortlessly, Sawyer picks up one of the heavy dumbbells and starts doing bicep curls with it. ‘You live here now. Ain’t bumped into the other coming out the shower yet, but it’ll happen.’
His smirk springs up as he says such with complete nonchalance that I envy, as if the idea doesn’t bother him at all, when it makes my cheeks flame. Makes my whole body flame at the thought of him in the shower and—no, we are not going there.
You can live the moving in with a hot cowboy scenario from your books another day, Honey, because that is not happening with Sawyer. There’s a reason it ended so badly the last time.
Still, I can’t change everything I do just to try to avoid too much alone time with Sawyer. Noah and I are here for the best part of a month and my stretches really help to clear my mind. And momentarily ease the ache that settled in my shoulder months ago and doesn’t seem to want to leave.
So, I draw down a lungful of air and nod, offering a grateful smile before heading to the other side of the deck and positioning my yoga mat out. I start with some basic stretches, warming my joints up before I can push them into deeper stretches and more difficult positions.
‘You ever play for others?’ Sawyer suddenly asks.
I crane my neck up from where I’m on all fours just as Sawyer’s gaze snaps back to my face from where my back arches down.
Was he … watching me?
Sawyer clears his throat. ‘Uh, guitar. And singing. You ever perform?’
‘Oh.’ I sit back on my knees, holding my arms above my head and leaning to my left, enjoying the delicious stretch that radiates across my side as I consider his question.
‘I’m not sure I have the confidence for that.
It was hard enough singing in a choir at school, but to be the only one in the spotlight … Well, you know me.’
‘You should.’ He declares as if it’s that easy. He struggles through one more bicep curl before putting the dumbbell down. ‘Isn’t that what Georgia Hart did in those stories you used to write?’
The ones I used to read to him.
I can’t believe he remembers them.
‘Maybe one day,’ I say with the hopes of quickly moving on. Some childish dreams are best left unpursued, like I should’ve done with him. ‘What about you—with the ranch? Have you been helping out more?’
Sawyer laughs, but the humour is lost on me, clearly a joke he shares only with himself. He grunts as he drops to the floor and wraps a resistance band around his leg. ‘Trying to.’
He turns away then, focusing on bending his broken leg back and forward with the band, and ultimately failing. Our conversation ends therefore, silence surfacing.
I wonder if that time in the café with him was a fluke after all—that the past nine years has worn away the ease of conversation we once had.
Even if I have been here for four days now, I’ve been working all day, and Noah usually hoards Sawyer’s attention in the evenings before I put him to sleep and read in bed.
There’s not been much time where Sawyer and I have been left to talk alone.
Still, it’s probably better for both of us that way.
I continue my stretch, leaning to my right side this time, just as Sawyer huffs out and throws the band to the deck beside him in clear defeat.
He sighs. ‘Sorry, I’m just still trying to figure out what this place means to me.
You know it ain’t exactly full of good memories, but it’s mine now with my dad gone.
Still, it’s keeping me busy while I’m not able to do what I truly wanna be doing. ’
Bull riding. Travelling the country. Being wild and free.
I nod and glance at his broken leg, my heart aching for him. It must be hard having your dreams suddenly pulled from you. ‘Do you—um … Do you want some help with your leg?’
Sawyer’s eyes flash and then he swallows. ‘Sure.’
In all honesty I thought he’d say no. And now I realise I have to touch him. Why the hell did I offer to do that?
Maybe it’s because I can’t stop myself from wanting to help him. To prop him up when he’s down. Just like we used to do for each other.
Slowly, I walk over to him, inhaling deeply when I reach the end of his feet.
Sawyer’s eyes never leave me as I drop to my knees before him, his throat working again.
The air feels charged now I’m closer, but I have to ignore it.
Just push through and help him out—because I’m his friend.
That’s why he offered for me to stay. That’s all.
Carefully, I lay my hands on his foot and knee—but he instantly jolts.
‘Sorry,’ Sawyer laughs, a deep, hearty rumble that seems to echo through the lands of Lucky Star. ‘Your hands were colder than I expected. Give ’em here.’
Strong, warm hands harbour my own, cradling them as he rubs his rough skin over mine to create heat, no doubt hardened and worn down from years of bull riding. It’s the first time we’ve properly touched and that electricity from before still skitters over my skin.
Yet, it’s nice to have someone doing something like this for me—it’s technically for his benefit, but it’s almost like a mini hand massage with the way he kneads his fingers into my palm.
I freeze though when he unexpectedly brings my hands to his lips and blows on them—his hot breath tingling over my skin. I’ve never tensed my body so much to suppress the shivers that instantly caress me. To ignore the familiarity his touch sparks in my heart.
He glances up then, while my fingers are barely millimetres from his lips. The flash of a reminder of what his lips once felt like on my skin is completely unwelcome, and even though it’s a cold October morning I’m hotter than ever.
‘There, much better.’ He clears his throat and guides my hands back to his leg. He leans back on his elbows, eyeing me up as I hesitate. ‘’S’okay, Blue. You know me—bit of pain is nothing.’
I push then, making his leg hinge at the knee and then bring it forward again when I feel some resistance.
I repeat the motion slowly, keeping my eyes locked on his leg even though I can feel the weight of Sawyer’s stare on me.
His leg doesn’t go back as far as it should—his flexibility lower than I expected.
‘You’re real tight,’ I say, adding more pressure to his leg this time to try to get it to stretch back further. Sawyer presses a fist to his mouth, the corners of his sudden grin peeking out.
‘What?’ I ask, but he shakes his head, biting down on his lip.
Am I hurting him? Not that I think he’d say if I was …
I used to be able to recognise when he was masking his pain but maybe it’s been too long and I’ve lost that privilege of truly understanding him.
‘Is it too hard? Or do you want it harder?’
‘Blue, you gotta stop.’ His laugh slips out then, and the smoky sound skitters across my skin, goosebumps breaking out even under all my layers. ‘Don’t you hear yourself?’
I think back over what I said and—‘Oh.’
Heat blooms in my cheeks again, Sawyer continuing to chuckle as he sits up. His laughter induces an almost nervous titter to spill from me, and then we’re both there on the deck giggling like a couple of school kids.
Sawyer’s chestnut eyes soften, flicking in a pattern of four around my face—each of my eyes, then my two cheeks.
The emerging sun shares more light now, its golden rays catching along the edges of his sharp jaw and cheekbones, almost enticing me to run a finger over them.
See if they’re just as strong as they used to be.
That half-smile of his is back too, moustache tipping up and inducing a fluttering in my stomach.
And then he has to go and say, ‘Man, I always did like making you blush.’
Instantly, the fluttering intensifies, invigorated by the warm embrace of his deep voice and the memories sparkling in his eyes.
But that’s why I have to stand, why I have to remove myself from this situation.
Because my body seems to have the ability to time travel—but I’m not the eighteen year old that once saw him as my saviour.
I’m a twenty-seven-year-old mom who can’t go following butterflies when they can easily fly off.
‘I … I should go. I’ll need to get Noah up soon.’
Sawyer starts to lift himself up after me, his brow furrowing. ‘I can help, if you wanna finish your stretches.’
My muscles tense and I hold out my hands, backing away to the door. ‘It’s fine, he’s not your kid, Sawyer. You don’t need to.’
He halts, lips forming a thin line as his jaw tightens and I wince at the harshness of my words. Because, no, he’s not Noah’s father. I made damn sure of that when I ran away nine years ago, and now I’m stuck suffering with forcing myself to remember why.
Sawyer just grits out. ‘Right.’
Maybe it’s in my head, or maybe it’s the clouds passing over the rising sun, but the world becomes a little dimmer then. That light that was rekindling between us put out as quickly as it sparked.