Chapter 37
Thirty-Seven
Sawyer
“Mom,” I say, rubbing at my temple, at the persistent throb there, “please call me back. I have a little time before I need to head to the rink. Do you still need me to come by?”
Tap. Tap. Tap.
On a sigh, I hang up and toss my phone into the passenger seat then pop my door and climb out.
“Hey,” Ryan says, his gaze drifting toward Lainey’s house, the exterior now covered by cameras. “You okay?”
“She’s okay,” I say. “So, I’m okay.”
His eyes come to mine. But he doesn’t otherwise comment.
At least not head-on.
“Why were you pissed we showed up to help with the cameras?”
“What? I wasn’t…”
He just stares at me and my words trail off.
I sigh. “I just didn’t want you guys to waste your morning doing something I could easily do.” I shrug. “That’s all.”
“Hmm.” A beat. “Seems to me that you do that a lot, Cupcake.”
“Do what?”
“Try to save us from ‘wasting our time’ instead of just asking us to help.”
My stomach twists. “You guys are all busy—fuck, people are having babies and building families. I can install a few cameras.”
He studies me for a few more seconds.
Then sighs, murmurs, “Gonna be a stubborn fucker, huh?”
“What?” I ask right as my phone starts ringing.
Leaning in, I grab it from the seat and look at the screen.
“I’ve got to get this.”
He presses his lips together and exhales. “Yeah, man, I know you do. Just remember that when you figure out you can’t do it all alone, your family’s here for you.”
I frown, but I don’t have a chance to reply to that because he’s walking away.
I swipe my finger across the screen. “Hey, Mom.”
“Do you know what I had to do all alone?”
“No,” I say, stifling a sigh, that throb back in full-force. “But I’m sure you’re going to tell me.”
“Yes, I certainly will. After you bring me one of those smoothies I like so much.”
“Right.” I drop into the driver’s seat. “I’ll be over soon.”
I wave at Ollie through the front window, back out of the driveway, then head to the smoothie place to get my mom’s drink. Along the way, Ally calls and we hammer out the final details for the two contracts that seemed worthwhile.
“I’m not letting go of the Anderson one, however,” she says just before we hang up. “If I can get them to bend on some of the clauses, it just might work.”
“Okay, work your Ally magic.”
“I always do, Cupcake. I always do.”
Laughing, I go to hang up.
“Sawyer?”
“Yeah?”
“Think you could do one thing for me?”
“Of course.”
She pauses as though considering how to best say what she has to say next.
But that pause tells me enough.
And it’s enough to have bile burning the back of my throat.
“My mom’s calling you again?” I manage to push out.
Ally exhales. “Yeah, I’m sorry to say, but she is.” There’s another long blip of silence. “Do you need me to step in?”
“Nah,” I say quickly. “I’ll handle her.”
“Then I’ll ask you one more thing,” she says softly. “Check your email. I…well, I sent you over some resources that might help.”
“Roger that,” I say quickly, hanging up and grabbing the smoothie from the kid in the window.
I nod my thanks then I finish the drive to my mom’s place.
Only before I go inside, I check my email.
“What the fuck?” I whisper as I scroll through the attachments for senior living facilities, others for live-in nurses, more for therapists who can help with anxiety and family dynamics.
SAWYER: What the fuck is this?
ALLY: Nothing.
ALLY: Unless you decide you finally need a fucking lifeline.
SAWYER: You have no right to delve into my personal life.
ALLY: No, I don’t. And I’m doing it, anyway.
ALLY: I won’t let you fucking drown, Sawyer.
SAWYER: I won’t. I’ve got this.
ALLY: Maybe.
ALLY: Maybe not.
Movement catches my attention and I look up, see my mom standing in the opening of her front door, her hands on her hips.
“Fuck,” I whisper, shoving my phone into my pocket and snagging the smoothie.
“There you are,” she says accusingly the moment I make it up the walk.
“Here’s your smoothie.” I hand it over then check my watch. “I have an hour before I have to head to the rink. What do you need?”
Her brow furrows. “Why would I need something?”
I freeze on the threshold.
Then turn to her. “Are you kidding me?”
“Why are you mad at me?” Her bottom lip wobbles, much like Ollie’s had earlier when stuffed Ollie went missing.
I bite back a sigh, step inside. “I’m not mad, Mom.”
“You sure seem like it.”
“Is it a lightbulb out or is your sink draining slow? Maybe the laundry room door is squeaking again?”
Some scent hits my nose as I walk down the hall, something spicy…like cinnamon?
“None of that is happening, sweetheart. You’ve got everything all fixed up perfectly.”
“I don’t understand,” I say. “Then why have you been calling so much? Why have you been calling Ally?”
A flicker of hurt slides across her face. “I haven’t seen much of you lately, is all.”
Guilt slices deep. “I know, Mom. I’ve really been running on all cylinders, especially with this shit with Lainey.”
“Oh, no. Did you two break up? I really liked her and Ollie. They seem sweet.”
“No, it’s not that. Things are…” The throb in my temple comes back with a vengeance.
“Things are fine, but she’s dealing with a lot, and I’m trying to be there to help her.
But between that and hockey and the charity stuff and the holidays and you—” I shake my head.
“Never mind,” I say softly. “What’d you need to talk about? ”
Her eyes hold mine for a long moment and then she steps close to me, cups my face in her hands. “My baby boy. Always carrying too much on his shoulders.” Her hands fall away, gaze drifting to the side, voice dropping. “I suppose I haven’t exactly helped with that.”
I frown. “Mom—”
Her shoulders snap straight and she bustles into the kitchen, hurrying over to the counter. “I made these.” She picks up a container, hands it to me.
The smell of cinnamon intensifies and I look down, stomach twisting.
“I don’t think they’re quite perfect,” she whispers, picking up one and taking a bite. “But I think they’re pretty damned close,” she says once she chews and swallows then nods toward the container. “Try one?”
The last thing I want right now is a fucking cookie.
But I pick one up and take a bite anyway.
Cinnamon hits my tongue, followed by sugar and spice and…
“Nutmeg?”
She nods softly. “I think that’s what was missing.” She nibbles at the edge of the cookie. “But I don’t think I have the measurements right.”
I take another bite, the flavor hitting my tongue, filling my senses, jarring loose old memories.
Of times like this. Of moments where things weren’t quite so messed up.
“Baby?” she asks tremulously.
My heart squeezes. “I think you’re close, Mom.”
Her eyes light up, her smile practically splits her face…and that’s like my mom of old too.
Heart leaping, hope growing.
Because maybe she’s close to that.
Close to coming back.
Close to not needing me so much.
Close to the mom I used to know.