Chapter 35
Thirty-Five
Sawyer
I brush a kiss over Lainey’s forehead then carefully reach over her and turn off her alarm.
She didn’t sleep last night—though we went to bed not all that long after Ollie had been fed, bathed, and read to.
Part of it is probably because our sleep schedule is fucked…
The rest is because she’s scared.
Of what’s developing between us.
Of what her ass of a husband did to her (and no, I’m not talking about getting sick—I’m talking about leaving her to fucking do it all on her own before he got sick).
And, worst of fucking all, what’s happening with the man from the bookstore.
Was it a weird random attack?
Did he somehow find out where she’s living and is digging through her trash, doing freaky-ass shit with her wineglasses?
Is she in danger?
The last is why I didn’t sleep.
Worried about that, knowing I need to get the cameras installed this morning because I have the game tonight. Worried about what could happen when I’m on the road with the team and not here to—
Protect them from some unknown threat we don’t even know exists for sure.
I grit my teeth together and focus.
Cameras first.
Well, Ollie to school and then cameras.
I grab my clothes and slip into the bathroom, doing my thing and getting dressed, then quietly padding out into the hall and waking up Ollie.
He’s adorably rumpled and sleepy, but I manage to get him to pull on some clothes, use the toilet, eat some breakfast, and brush his teeth as I’m packing his lunch, filling up his water bottle, and leaving a note for Lainey in case she wakes up.
“I need Ollie,” he says as I’m buckling him into the minivan, glad I picked up both a booster and a car seat a while back.
With all my friends having kids, it was only a matter of time before I was going to make use of them. It’s the same reason I traded my sports car for a minivan. Between babies and kids and all the shit that comes with them, one of us needed enough room to haul everyone around.
I just didn’t think…I might need them for a kid who I hope to call my own.
“Where’s Ollie?” I ask.
His eyebrows furrow. “I don’t know. Mom and I couldn’t find him last night when I went to bed.”
“Did you bring him to school yesterday?”
That furrow deepens then smooths out. “Yes! I wanted to show Aparna. She said I was lying, that there wasn’t a toy with my name. But I showed her Ollie and his tag and then she believed me.”
My mouth curves and I ruffle his hair. “Good. And glad the mystery is solved. Ollie must be at school. We’ll ask your teacher when we get there, okay?”
“’Kay!”
I double check that he’s buckled in securely and safely.
Then climb into the driver’s seat and take him over to school.
Some asshole cuts me off a few blocks later.
“What the fu—” I clamp my teeth together, then deliberately finish, “Fudge.”
A glance into the rearview shows me Ollie calmly kicking his legs back and forth as he looks out the window. “Mom says fuck.”
I blink.
Then choke down my laughter. “Does she now?”
“Yup.” He pops the P. “When she’s driving she says it a lot.”
Don’t laugh. Don’t.
“Why don’t you tell me about…” I manage to divert his attention to his dog show and the rest of the drive is uneventful.
Unfortunately, our search of the classroom isn’t fruitful.
“I’ll look at home and in your mom’s car, okay bud?” I say. “Ollie will be here to pick you up.”
His bottom lip wobbles. “Promise?”
I crouch down in front of him, cupping his elbows. “I promise that I will do everything in my power to find Ollie.”
That wobble doesn’t go away.
But at least he nods and gives me a hug before he drags his feet into his classroom.
And I know—fucking know—that I’ll tear the house apart to find that penguin.
But stuffed Ollie isn’t in real Ollie’s bedroom, and he isn’t in Ollie’s bathroom. Or tucked in between the couch or under the kitchen table or on the back porch.
I order three more to have as backups.
They won’t be here by pickup though.
“Fuck,” I whisper, scrubbing my hands over my face and sitting back on my heels, knowing I’m going to disappoint Ollie and hating every part of that.
My phone buzzes and I look down at the screen, see that my mom’s calling.
“Yeah?” I ask as I swipe and lift it to my ear.
“Honey,” she says. “Oh, it’s terrible! You won’t even believe how terrible—”
“Mom,” I interject. “Are you hurt?”
“What? No. I just—”
“Is the house on fire?”
“I, what?”
“Is your house currently burning down around you?”
A long pause then, “No.”
I close my eyes for a second, grapple with my patience. But it’s slippery, hard to hold on to. “Are you in danger? Or have been in a car accident—”
“Sawyer, what the heck are you talking about?”
“I’m busy, Mom,” I grit out. “I have a lot going on and I can’t manage your life and all the things happening in mine.
If you want to talk just to talk, I can call you later.
But if this is another thing where you need me to drop everything and come carry in your groceries or fix something then I can’t right now. ”
A long, tense moment.
Then she asks in a wobbling tone, “Why are you being so mean?”
Guilt washes over me. “Mom, I’m not trying to be mean, but my plate is full right now.”
“Is it so hard to help your mother? I don’t ask for much.”
Laughter bubbles up in my chest, but it’s so far from amused it’s not even fucking funny. Still, I shove it down. “I’ll call you later, Mom.”
She sniffs. “Don’t bother. I’ll handle it.”
Fuck.
“Mom—”
But she’s already hung up.
Groaning, I bury my face in my hands. Then exhale and shove that aside.
Later. I’ll make it up to her later.
I have a penguin to locate and cameras to install and a woman to look after and a game to get ready for.
My mom is just going to have to handle her own life for once.