Chapter 28
Sawyer
Noah’s hands pull at my hair as he sits on my shoulders, vibrating with excitement while we walk through the stalls lining the arena the next day.
Crowds mill about between vendors, people buzzing around and sporting felt hats, striped shirts, good-quality denim, and plenty of moustaches.
Every now and again Noah plucks up the courage to wave to someone passing by—a bashful smile filling his face when they wave back, and if Honey’s eyes don’t light up seeing the confidence her boy is developing.
She stops at a boot stall as we stroll, attention snagging on a pair of white boots with silver and blue stitching and tiny rhinestones dotted sparingly over them.
Her fingers trail over the design, following the swirls and making the silver shine in the light as she admires the boots.
Instantly, I can envision them on her, wearing a denim number, playing her guitar. Yeah, she’d look killer in those.
‘You should get them,’ I suggest, another thought of getting her in bed with nothing but those boots flashing into my mind next.
Damn. Gotta make that happen now.
Honey’s fingers instantly retract, her admiration of them disappearing. She shrugs. ‘Eh, they’re a bit too glitzy for me, and—’ she stops to check the price tag, eyes blaring wide ‘—way out of my budget.’
‘Get them,’ I insist. She should know better than anyone that once my mind is set on something, I ain’t quitting.
Her brows draw in. ‘Didn’t you just hear me?’
‘Yeah, but I disagree. Nothing is too glitzy for you, Blue. Not when you’re so beautiful even the prettiest sunset would be jealous.
’ Her expression melts then, and man if it doesn’t spur me on.
‘Anyway, I’ll pay for them. You can put them on my card.
Although, you’ll have to get it yourself, because my hands are occupied. ’
I thrust my hips forward slightly to emphasise with a smirk, while Honey just sucks her teeth, even though a ghost of a smile dances on her lips.
‘You’re terrible, you know that?’
‘Guilty,’ I admit, flashing her a wicked grin.
Eventually she concedes after a few seconds of a silent stand-off, and says, with a roll of her eyes, ‘Thank you.’
She rummages around my jeans pocket, purposefully making sure to touch more than just my wallet with an innocent smile painted on. Eventually she pulls out my wallet, then locates my card, heading into the stall and returning with a bag and a bright-as-sunshine smile.
She deserves beautiful things, and I rather like being the one to give her them.
‘Okay, buddy.’ I give Noah a little shake to grab his attention. ‘How do you fancy meeting some of the riders today?’
‘Yeah!’ he yells, yanking at my hair and kicking his legs as if he thinks I’m an actual horse. I make a whinny noise and scuff my boot across the floor, pretending to get ready to race, which rewards me with a chorus of giggles from both Noah and Honey. Exactly what I wanted.
I did get us seats in the arena to watch the show but thought it would be fun to introduce Honey and Noah to some of the guys on the circuit beforehand. Give them a little insight into what it would be like once I’m back on the road if they wanted to come visit …
We find Boone and a couple of other riders around the back of the arena where they usually congregate.
Honey and Noah are received with plenty of smiles, and Noah even climbs down from my shoulders to ask Boone and the other riders some of the questions I’d rehearsed with him before we came.
Boone’s sister brought his daughter to visit too, and they manage to encourage Noah to look at some of the horses with them, his big blue eyes looking to Honey and me first for confirmation before he gladly joined them.
I’d be lying if my heart didn’t skip a little seeing how much Noah has come out of his shell since I first met him.
How he always says good morning to every rancher we pass when he joins me around Lucky Star on weekends now, no longer just giving them a timid wave.
How something both me and him share a love for has had such a positive effect on him.
‘Gosh, I really don’t belong here,’ Honey chuckles beside me as I watch Noah with Boone and his daughter by the pens.
It takes me a second to realise what she means when I notice her gaze has wandered over to where there’s a few women dressed up in sparkly denim outfits, all laughing with and doting on some of the riders.
Still, there’s a wobble to her words, undermining what she was attempting to pass off as a light comment.
I hate it when she fluffs up her hair a little and pulls at the sweater dress she’s wearing, as if she thinks she needs to change herself when she’s goddamn perfect to me.
Instantly, I slot myself into her eyeline, cutting off her view.
‘No, you don’t belong with them, Blue, because you belong right here, next to me, by my side.
’ I cradle her face, eyes boring down into her baby blues.
My thumbs caress her cheeks with slow, meaningful strokes.
‘And believe me, if you were over there, waiting for me, I’d be making a beeline straight to you. ’
‘You’re too good to me,’ she whispers, lashes fluttering shyly.
‘Not possible. You deserve the world.’ I run my thumb over her bottom lip once, desperate to kiss her, but I can’t let my hands linger too long. I’m aware she’s not ready to let Noah in on what’s been blooming between us. I’ve not earned that yet.
So, I release her, and keep my voice hushed as I bring my lips to her ear, admitting, ‘I hope you know how badly I wanna kiss you right now. Show everyone that you’re mine.’
I pull back, devilish grin on full display as I turn to find Noah before my features draw into something tighter when he’s no longer standing with Boone and his daughter. ‘Where is that little devil anyway?’
Honey’s scouring of our surroundings is more frantic, her hair whipping around the longer it takes her to locate him.
Maybe he’s found a new bull rider to idolise—it was how he found me after all, running away from his mom and grandma.
Still, rodeos can be busy and packed and hectic, not really the ideal environment for a six year old to be wandering about alone in because something piqued his curiosity.
And just because his confidence has been growing over the last couple of months doesn’t mean getting lost isn’t going to scare him—it would worry anyone.
Especially Honey. A weight leans down on me, reminding me that they’re here for me, that if anything happens to Noah, it’ll be on me, and ruin the chance of them coming again.
Ruin the chance of us finding a way to make this work.
Bull riding might have given me purpose all these years, but Honey and Noah have breathed new life into my veins. I’m not going to give that up so easily.
The thought kicks me into action, and I call out for him, marching over to where I last saw him.
Our steps are hurried as we trail the back area of the arena, weaving between riders and staff and pens to find Noah. The whole time I keep Honey’s hand clutched tightly in mine, squeezing every now and again to remind her I’m here, and we’ll find him.
Eventually, I catch sight of him and my stomach flips.
He’s balancing on the top of the rickety fence of one of the pens, trying to reach out to stroke one of the horses. Panic lances through me at the sight of him wobbling around and I rush forward, ignoring how my booted leg protests.
Suddenly, Noah loses his balance and falls headfirst into the pen, tumbling between the legs of the horses—horses that could probably crush him with one stamp of their hoof.
‘Noah!’ Without thought, especially not for my leg, I charge forward and throw myself over the fence, straight into the pen.
I wrap an arm around Noah’s middle, hoisting him up and near missing a hoof to the head myself as the horses panic, before climbing back out of the pen.
We land with a thud, dust springing up from the dry ground.
I immediately drop to his level and survey him for any injuries, my racing heart finally slowing down when I discover he’s unscathed, bar a slight muddy mark on his forehead where I’m sure a bump will appear later.
Sweet relief floods my veins, painting over the fear that had been there seconds before.
I crush him to me then, giving him the biggest hug. He’s safe.
‘Buddy, you scared me!’ I hold him out in front of me again, checking him once more as Honey runs over. ‘You can’t be climbing up the pens like that on your own, okay? Those horses might look cute, but they’re big and dangerous too.’
His bottom lip wobbles as he nods. ‘I’m—I’m sorry.’
I brush the mud from his forehead, then filter my fingers through his bangs, tidying them up. ‘It’s okay. Just promise you’ll make sure you have an adult with you next time? You can always ask your mom or me.’
He nods, and then he goes and shatters my world by saying, ‘I promise, Dad.’
The arena around me freezes.
Or maybe I do.
All I know is that word blasts through my head over and over, rendering me completely immobile.
It’s a word I never thought I’d get the opportunity to be called. Never thought I’d deserve to be called it. Not when I’ve grown up and lived the way I have—no understanding of how to be a good father, no stable life to show I’m a role model worthy of that title.
But it would be a lie if I said Noah’s slip up didn’t hit me right in the heart. Didn’t have it pulsing with just a shred of hope and pride. That maybe he thinks I am worthy of being such. I sure know he looks up to me for some damn reason.
Still, I don’t know what I’m supposed to do in this situation. I never know what I’m supposed to do with Noah—it’s always a shot in the dark for me, hoping I’m doing the right thing by him when I have zero experience with children.
Gradually, I find the strength to drag my eyes up to meet Honey’s, her lip dropped as she stares back. A split second passes as our gazes stay entwined, bodies unmoving, and I wonder if she might just brush over it. Let me have that moment.
Let me think maybe it’s possible to be that for him one day.
But then she’s crouching down beside Noah and turning him to face her as I just hover there, unsure what to do. ‘Noah, baby. You can’t call Sawyer dad. That’s what we call your real dad, okay?’
That hope kindling in my chest is put out as quickly as it ignited.
Honey continues, flashing me a brief smile over Noah’s shoulder that I struggle to return. ‘Sawyer is just Momma’s friend. And yours.’
Right.
Just their friend.
I force myself back to a stand then.
As far from the vulnerability of the moment as possible.
Noah nods in understanding of Honey’s words, then twists back to me, and my heart darkens that little bit more when he says, ‘Sorry, Sawyer.’ As if they think I’m uncomfortable with the accidental label he gave me. As if it isn’t something I’ve struggled not to dream about.
It takes a lot more strength than I’d like to admit to throw on a relaxed smile and reassume my usual nonchalant demeanour. To ruffle Noah’s hair again, completely unbothered, and respond, ‘That’s okay, buddy. Let’s go find our seats for the show, yeah?’
Honey takes his hand this time, ensuring he doesn’t run off again, and we silently make our way out of the back area to the stands.
I let my steps slow for a few seconds, allowing me to watch Honey and Noah, hand in hand ahead of me, and ache to be the third link in their chain. The final piece to their happy family.
I guess I just have to keep proving to her that I can be worthy of them. Maybe not this weekend, maybe not this year, but maybe one day. Whatever it takes.