Chapter 16
Sixteen
Lainey
“Get it! Get it! Get—yahoo!” my little bear cries.
Sawyer scoops him up and settles him on his shoulders as they celebrate their goal alongside Nate, who isn’t exactly whooping and cheering alongside Ollie and Sawyer, but seems to have melted just the slightest bit.
He’s smiling at least.
Meanwhile, Leo and Smitty and Ace lean on their sticks as they watch the show.
“Wa. Wa. Wa. Wa!” Reese babbles and I grin down at her, bouncing her on my knee.
“I know,” I say. “They’re all hockey crazy.” I boop her on the nose, watch as she smiles. “Are you going to be hockey crazy too?”
“I’m thinking of pushing soccer,” Luns says, sitting down beside me with a sigh.
Laughing, I pass Reese back over to her—because she heard her mommy and thus wants her mommy. But I stay where I am as Luna nurses Reese and does it all while expounding on all of the pros of soccer and the cons of hockey.
Unfortunately, her audience isn’t so sold.
She gets boos from Smitty and arguments from Shep, one of the Hawks players Ace begrudgingly introduced us to.
Storm and his daughter, Holly, have a lot to say about it too—though his fiancée, Poppy, just smiles and shrugs, “Hockey is expensive.”
“Precisely!” Luna declares, making Reese, who’d fallen asleep, jump. But Reese—already used to the usual Grizzlies chaos—immediately settles back in to slumber. “Soccer is much more accessible.”
“And boring,” Smitty says, leaning close to Kailey and kissing her cheek then carefully scooping up Sophie.
She’s so tiny, especially in those big hands.
God, I remember those days.
How little Ollie was, how much he slept (and how little of it was at the right times).
Harper pushes up to her feet and Leo immediately zips to her side. “Just using the bathroom, honey. Take a breath.” She brushes her lips over his. “Baby’s not coming for a few more days at least.”
He relaxes (marginally), and lets her go.
But he doesn’t join us sitting on the deck.
He just watches the back door and waits for her to return.
Smiling, and glad my friends have found each other even if Baby Watch is imminent, I tune back into the conversation—
Or start to, anyway.
Because my eyes—as they’re often wont to do—drift to Sawyer.
He’s leaning against one of the porch’s posts, his eyes on his phone as he uses one hand to type away, his other going to his neck and rubbing at it.
As though it aches.
It’s the same spot as yesterday, and I wouldn’t be surprised if it’s still bothering him, considering some of the hits he took tonight.
Even as that thought drifts through my mind, I find my own feet, making my way across the porch.
“You okay?” he asks the moment I get close.
“You’re not,” I say softly.
Something dark slithers through his eyes before he smiles. “I’m fine, Pages.”
In answer, I just reach up and carefully dislodge his hand. “You’re hurting.”
A lazy shrug, but he doesn’t stop me from touching him. “Aches and pains are part of the game,” he says dryly.
“And broken bones and stitches and blood too, right?”
His lips twitch. “Something like that.”
“Okay. Great. You’re big and tough.” I move around behind him. “Now just sit there and hold still.”
“Is it okay that I’m standing?”
I blink, the dry teasing taking me a moment to process.
Then lean forward and pretend to glare at him. “Is this a glimpse of the real Sawyer beneath all the helpful and sweet?”
That dark thing in his eyes comes back. “What do you—”
I meant there’s a bit of snark inside him, a bit of fire—and not just the kind that’s found on the ice. But of a man who’s thoughtful and considerate and kind, but there’s a hint of wicked in him too.
He kissed like a man who has all of that.
And more.
But he’s clearly thinking that I’m thinking something else.
And I really really don’t like the look in his eyes.
“I like every part of you I’ve met so far,” I say gently.
In a flash, the darkness is erased and he’s back to his normal jovial self. “You haven’t smelled me after a game.” A wink. “You definitely wouldn’t like me then.”
I pause, alarm bells blaring, a confusing mix of curiosity and sadness and caution telling me to slow down instead of pushing for details.
For him.
For me.
Maybe it would be smarter to stay away altogether, to go back to quiet distance and superficial friendship.
But every cell in my body screams at me that it would be a mistake.
That I’ll wake up one day and know it was the biggest one of my life.
I need to know this man—no matter where it leads.
But I need to do it slowly. Safely. For me and Ollie. For…
Sawyer.
“I have powerful soap,” I say lightly, shifting behind him and letting my fingers run over the back of his neck, feeling the strong muscles there. The tight muscles. “We could always hose you off in the front yard before you come into the house.”
He chuckles. Then grunts.
“Sore?” I ask softly.
“It’s fine. I’ll see my PT in a few days, and he’ll help me sort it out.”
“You know”—I gently find the edge of the knot and start rubbing it—“I really messed up my neck after Ollie.”
“Yeah?” he says, his body jerking when I hit a tight spot.
“Yeah,” I say, gentling my touch. “I had to do physical therapy myself.”
“Having a baby is a lot of work.” He relaxes into me as the spot starts to loosen. “And Luns says it was the hardest thing she’s ever done.”
I nod. “I think in a lot of ways it was.”
“But?” he asks when I don’t go on.
“Physically it was.” I sigh. “But the real struggle comes during the sleepless nights and the hundreds of diaper changes and the countless decisions you’re making, all while exhausted beyond belief and questioning whether or not you’re doing the right thing.”
He’s quiet for a long moment. “Would you do it again? Have more kids?”
“Without a doubt.” There’s no hesitation in my answer—or in the truth. “Ollie is the best thing I’ve ever done. I…the way I love him is impossible to describe.”
“Even for a writer?”
I laugh. “Even for a writer.”
Smitty’s voice booms around the back yard, the argument about soccer versus hockey fully underway—and in surprising fashion, he’s found an ally in Violet.
Then again, her livelihood relies on the sport.
But I think she could kill it matching soccer or baseball or football players.
Or maybe rugby.
Yum.
Fighting a smile, I keep gently massaging the knots in Sawyer’s neck, and in the tops of his shoulders, and in his back.
“Geez,” I mutter. “You’re hard.”
“Um…”
I still, realize what I said. “I meant the knots,” I say quickly. “Just the knots. Not, uh, you. Not that, uh, that would be a problem—”
He turns to fully face me, dislodging my hands and staring down at me. Heat clings to the edges of his expression. “What if I was?”
“I, uh—” My cheeks burn…and my eyes slide down.
Holy hell.
“Fuck, Pages. Don’t look at me like that.”
“It’s your fault,” I whisper.
“Now, I’m pretty sure it’s you who kissed me the other day. You who makes it impossible for me to concentrate on anything when you touch me.”
I don’t comment on the teasing, on the heat, on the way he steps closer.
I like this part of Sawyer, and I don’t want my mentioning it to bring that insecurity back.
Instead, I just offer, “Everyone’s already watching us.” And they are. Oh, they’re playing it really cool, but their gazes have come to us plenty in the last five minutes. “Want to give them a show and do it again?”
His laughter explodes out of him, and hell, I really like it.
A lot.
The warmth of it, how it surrounds me, what it makes me feel.
And even though it draws the attention of the rest of the backyard’s occupants, the table and porch full of my friends and acquaintances, I can’t bring myself to care.
For one, they already know that Sawyer and I are…
Well, whatever we are.
For another, hearing him laugh like this?
It heals a part of my soul.
“What’s so funny, Cupcake?” Smitty calls.
Sawyer turns and looks at me, winking again but this time it’s not forced, not fake.
“You had to be there, Smitty,” he calls back. “Ready?”
“For what?”
Those blue eyes blaze as they lock onto mine.
“For this.”
Then he lowers his head…
And he kisses me.