Chapter 17
Honey
I’m woken up by Noah calling out for me. Mind suddenly wide awake and blaring, I’m out of bed and rushing across the landing to his room in a flash, barrelling through his bedroom door with my arms already open wide to scoop him up.
‘It’s okay, baby. Momma’s here.’
Noah buries his tear-stained face into my chest once he’s in my arms, heavy breaths labouring out of him, and I pull the sheets up around us, snuggling into him as I rock us side to side.
‘I was calling for you,’ he sobs, little hands clutching me. My heart lurches at the thought of him being afraid and without me.
‘I know, baby. I’m sorry. But I’m here now. You’re safe.’ I pepper the top of his head with kisses, squeezing him tighter. I’m so used to this now—the nightmares he gets, how he just needs to know I’m here—yet my heart still races, mind on high alert.
They started when he began kindergarten last year, with the psychologist suggesting it was likely due to his anxiety, and that he should grow out of them once he feels more settled in school.
Moving house probably didn’t help with the added stress, and I can’t help but beat myself up sometimes, wondering if I’m doing enough for him.
Wondering if I ever have. If I should’ve encouraged him to do more, enrolled him in some kids’ sports groups even if he’s not interested in anything but his horses and cowboys, or organised more playdates.
Sent him to stay with his dad more so he might have a strong male role model occasionally around, someone less timid than me.
‘Want me to sing for you?’ I offer.
Sniffling, Noah nods, and I press one last kiss to his sweet head before starting to sing. He’s never cared for what song I sing, as long as it’s something slow. So, tonight I choose ‘There’s the Sun’ by Zach Top. The little sigh Noah lets out as soon as I start is the better music to my ears.
I sing through several songs, gently swaying him in my arms, before I hear Noah’s breaths become soft and even, alerting me that he’s finally fallen asleep.
That’s the longest it’s taken in ages to get him to drift off, and as soon as I stop rocking us, I realise how much it’s made my shoulders ache.
Carefully, I slide him out of my arms and into the bed, tucking the sheets around him.
I tiptoe out of his room, but head downstairs instead of my own bedroom.
I’m exhausted yet simultaneously too awake, just like after every nightmare.
I’ve never been good at getting back to sleep—as if the thought of him upset scares me more than his nightmare did him.
My first thought is to go grab a cup of warm milk—like Sawyer made me that time, but I find myself padding past Sawyer’s bedroom and out onto the back deck.
The cool midnight air nips at my weary body, but I don’t care.
I just flick on the outside light and head to the fence, leaning against it as I take in the calmness of the silent ranch, the stars speckling the sky behind the dark mountains ahead.
Then, I let out the longest sigh.
‘That bad, huh?’ Sawyer’s voice sounds behind me.
‘Oh!’ I startle, twisting quickly to find him lounging in one of the deck chairs, wearing the strange combination of a shearling jacket and just his underwear.
‘Sorry.’ He jumps to his feet, instantly rushing over to me, not using his crutches. ‘I didn’t mean to scare you.’
I wonder why he’s out here on the back deck in the middle of the night—I know we live together, but it seems like he always ends up where I am. There’s been too many late nights meeting recently and it makes me wonder …
But then it hits me. ‘Did Noah wake you again? I’m so sorry.
’ I go back to leaning against the fence and hang my head.
He must really regret letting us stay here—I’m sure there are many other things a playboy bull rider like him would rather get woken up by in the middle of the night than a six year old crying.
‘I don’t know how long he was calling. He doesn’t usually take that long to get back to sleep either. ’
‘Hey.’ Sawyer gently brushes his fingers against the back of my arm and I savour the brief, warm touch, even though what I could really use right now is just to fall into his arms and let him hold me until my exhaustion dissolves.
Not that I want to fall into his arms specifically—just …
I’m just real tired and his arms once gave me solace I’ve never found elsewhere. ‘’S’okay. I was already awake.’
‘You sure?’ Tears prick my eyes from the guilt.
‘Yeah. Got this real bad itch on my leg and I can’t reach it. Not even with a fork.’ He rests his arms against the fence beside me. ‘Fucking long-ass legs. Can’t wait to get this cast off tomorrow.’
I snort at that, but my smile falters quickly as the dull ache between my shoulder blades intensifies, like something is pulling them tightly together. I wriggle my shoulders, trying to loosen it.
‘You okay there, Blue?’
‘Yeah,’ I breathe out and turn to him, momentarily losing all sense of how to speak as I notice the way the buzzing amber porchlight illuminates all the hues of brown in his warm eyes—chestnut and caramel, and small flecks of bronze closer to his pupils.
The same eyes I fell in love with all those years ago, and then ran away from …
I shake my head, ridding me of such memories. God, I must be exhausted, letting myself get carried away like that. ‘I’m just tired, but that’s the story of every single parent’s life, right?’
Sawyer presses his lips into a soft smile, but there’s a small divot that appears between his brows giving away his concern.
I try to ease the tension between my shoulders by rolling them again and even angle my neck to see if it’ll help, but it’s no use. What I need is a proper massage, which I’ve not had since before Noah was born.
‘You still tense?’ Sawyer asks, brows raised as he scans my back. Heat tingles in the wake of his gaze travelling over my body, and I’m suddenly all too aware of the thin T-shirt I’m wearing. How my nipples have pebbled in the cool midnight air, completely obvious.
I swallow. ‘Um, yeah. I should probably stop lifting Noah up all the time. He’s getting heavier now that he’s older—ain’t a little baby anymore.’
‘I can help, if you like?’ Sawyer pushes off from the fence and holds up his hands in offer. ‘I used to get a lot of massages—to help with muscle pain from riding and training.’
Words clog in my throat at the small offer.
I can’t remember the last time someone offered to take care of me.
People always offer to help with Noah—to look after him so I can have time to take care of myself.
But sometimes I just want someone else to take care of me, so I don’t have to do it for once.
I just struggle to voice that because … well, I feel guilty. Selfish.
It would be a bad idea to let Sawyer touch me, though.
As much as I try to pretend it doesn’t affect me, every small brush of his fingers or body against me has my nerves lighting up like the sky on the Fourth of July, even if I pretend it doesn’t.
Even if I pretend I didn’t want him to kiss me the other night when we were sat drawing.
When I felt how soft and thick that moustache of his was, wondering how it’d feel against my lips …
I find myself nodding. He’s always so eager to please, to help, and I don’t have the strength to deny him today. Not when I’ve been fighting for the last few weeks. ‘Yes, please.’
I don’t miss the way his eyes instantly brighten. He steps behind me, letting me face the views of the midnight-drenched ranch. My body already tenses from the anticipation of how I’ll cope with so much of his touch in one go. Maybe I should stop this before—
Sawyer brushes my loose hair over one shoulder, his fingers sliding softly against the back of my neck, sending goosebumps across my chest. Carefully, he places his hands over my shoulders, lining his thumbs up with my shoulder blades and kneads them into my flesh—my T-shirt top providing little barrier between the heat of his touch and my skin.
I have to hold in the moan that wants to escape.
‘Jesus, Blue. You’re real tense.’ His breath whispers against my hair.
‘I know.’ The words come out mumbled as I relish how my shoulders instantly loosen under the reverent press of his thumbs. Relief drips like honey down my spine, warmth spreading through my body. It’s glorious—to be touched like this. So … devotedly.
‘This okay?’ he asks.
‘Yeah, it’s—’ A small whimper I’d been trying to stifle finally filters out and Sawyer sucks in a breath sharply. ‘I … I can’t remember the last time someone touched me like this.’
His hands still, and I go to protest, but then he asks, voice laced with gravel, ‘When, Blue?’
‘When, what?’
Heat radiates off him as he steps closer, his hands still on me, with his chest now brushing my back too. ‘When was the last time someone touched you?’
My next breath is a gasp—because surely he doesn’t mean sexually, but … but his hands on me, his proximity, it’s dizzying.
I swallow thickly before admitting, ‘Before Noah was born.’
Sawyer curses under his breath, his hands still unmoving.
When he’s still for another few seconds, I check over my shoulder, only to catch his darkened eyes, pupils blown out. My bottom lip drops at the wildness in his stare. ‘Sawyer?’
‘That’s not right,’ he whispers, shaking his head before his gaze drops to the crook of my neck. His fingers land against the bare side of my neck, his other hand dropping to gently knead my lower back, making my eyes flutter. ‘You need to be taken care of, Blue. Can I touch you more here?’
When I nod and say yes he rubs his thumb over the sensitive skin, up and down twice, before unexpectedly pressing his lips there. My body lights up from the heat of his mouth, electrified to my very core as memories of the first time he ever touched me zap to the front of my mind.