Chapter 27
JULIETTE
Sitting in the front seat of his car, I’m glad that Sawyer insisted on driving us home.
Not in a pushy way. Just a calm, already-opening-the-door way, like this is the obvious next step.
I didn’t have the energy to argue it. Theo had happily jumped into the back, still buzzing and riding the high of ice cream, fried foods, and jerseys, as well as being surrounded by an entire hockey team that treated him like he belonged.
The city slips past the windows in soft streaks of light. The hum of the road settles into something steady, almost hypnotic.
From the backseat, Theo narrates the night like he’s afraid it might disappear if he stops talking.
“Did you see when I almost fell, but Owen caught me?”
“Sawyer, when you scored—Mom, did you see that?”
“I think the mascot waved at me twice. I counted.”
“I saw,” I say, smiling. “I saw all of it.”
His voice slows as we go. Words stretch out. Sentences trail off halfway through. His head tips against the window, then bounces back upright like he’s fighting sleep on principle alone.
I glance over at Sawyer, then quickly back to the road ahead, pretending I wasn’t just watching the way his hands rest easy on the steering wheel. The way he listens, to both of us, like every word matters.
A few minutes pass, and then silence.
Sawyer flicks his eyes to the rearview mirror. I do the same. Theo’s head has tipped forward, mouth slightly open. He’s completely out.
We share a look. A small one. The kind that doesn’t need commentary.
Sawyer’s mouth curves, causing a tiny dimple I’ve not noticed before to appear. Small. Devastating. Something inside me hitches, as I pull my gaze away.
The rest of the drive passes quietly. When we pull up outside my apartment, Sawyer parks and kills the engine without asking what I want him to do next.
He’s such a good man, he already knows. He unbuckles, comes around, and lifts Theo carefully from the backseat like this isn’t his first time doing this, even though I know it is.
Theo stirs, murmurs something incoherent, then settles again.
Inside, shoes off, lights low, Sawyer waits in the hallway while I tuck Theo into bed, smooth his hair back, kiss his forehead.
“You had a good birthday,” I whisper.
“Did Dad call?” he asks.
“No buddy, but we’ll try to catch up with him tomorrow,” I manage, wanting to scream.
“It’s fine, you know.” His voice is thoughtful. “We’ve got Sawyer, too, right?”
With that, he rolls over and sighs a small, content sound that nearly undoes me.
When I close his door and turn back, Sawyer is still there. Still standing in my apartment, waiting for me. The quiet feels different now. Closer. The kind that presses in instead of receding.
“I need to say this properly,” I tell him, before he can speak. “What you did tonight—”
He shifts, already preparing to brush it off. I shake my head.
“No. Let me say it.” I take a breath. Steady myself.
“You showed up for him when his own father didn’t.
You made his birthday magical. You got an entire professional hockey team to skate with my kid like it was the most normal thing in the world.
” My voice tightens despite my best efforts. “You didn’t have to do any of that.”
Sawyer steps closer. Not rushing. Not crowding. Just closer.
“I wanted to,” he says quietly. “You matter to me. Both of you matter to me.”
There’s a moment where my veins feel as if they’ve been flushed with ice water. He’s just said the thing I’ve been circling all night without letting myself name. It’s the moment where gratitude stops being enough, and something else begins to take shape.
I hesitate, then decide not to soften it.
“You should know that David talked about maybe moving back,” I say.
“He says he wants to be around more. That he wants to try.” I let out a breath.
“I don’t know if he’ll actually see it through.
I’ve heard versions of this before, and his not showing up for tonight further puts you in the picture of what we’ve been dealing with. ”
Sawyer doesn’t interrupt. He doesn’t fill the space. He listens, hands loose at his sides, eyes steady on me.
“I keep thinking about Theo,” I continue. “About how many times he’s gotten his hopes up. How many times I’ve had to be the one to catch him when things fall apart.” My throat tightens. “I don’t want him hurt again.”
Sawyer nods once, slow and deliberate. “I don’t know what happens next with David,” he says. “But I know Theo’s going to be okay.”
I look at him. “You do?”
“Yeah,” he says gently. “Because he has you. You’ve given him everything he ever needs to know he’s loved.”
The words land deep. Deeper than I’d expect.
We’re standing closer than before. I hadn’t noticed the distance shrinking; I only know that the room feels smaller. Warmer. The lamp in the corner throws a soft pool of light around us, catching on his jaw, the faint crease between his brows.
“I don’t know what I’m doing,” I admit quietly. “With you. I haven’t done this in a long time. Which is why I should put the brakes on now.”
“Put on the brakes?” Sawyer’s head tilts to one side as he sizes me up. “I don’t understand…”
“I can see my son falling in love with you, and that scares me more than giving you my heart.” I wrap my arms around myself, wanting to be hugged but needing to be independent. “Life and experience has taught me that if you go away, I will pick myself up and be okay eventually.”
“Don’t you think you might be jumping to a conclusion here?” Sawyer asks, but I hold my hand up to stop him.
“I’m a single mother who has to look at all angles of any given situation, especially when it comes to my child. Your time at the shop comes to an end soon, so we should call it now.”
Sawyer goes quiet. “Hey, hold on. Maybe we should take a few days to step back, think about things?”
I shake my head. I’ve been thinking about things since David left us, always trying to stay a beat or two ahead of the world in order to keep it safe for Theo.
My mom job is to raise a thoughtful boy into an emotionally intelligent man, and as his mother I can see the path forward clearly.
I know what I need to do. It doesn’t mean I like that I have to do it, though.
“It’s not about me, what I want. It’s about a kid who could get confused and think of you as a replacement dad.
He’s getting attached, Sawyer. I’m not prepared to emotionally handle picking up the pieces for anyone ever again.
I just want my son to hold onto his childlike, free-spirited self for as long as he can before the world rises up to greet him and show him what it’s really like out there. ”
Sawyer exhales, like he’s been holding something back. His mouth curves, not playful, not polished. Just honest. “But I don’t want to be anywhere else.”
My heart flips as his hand lifts slowly, like he’s giving me time to stop him. I don’t. His fingers brush my cheek, warm and careful, his thumb resting just under my eye.
“You’re amazing,” he says softly. “Inside and out. You know that, right?”
A breathy laugh escapes me. “I’m a mess.”
He smiles. “You’re amazing anyway.”
“I’m sorry, Sawyer,” I whisper, “I’ll email Carol and her team. I’ll tell them you completed the hours, but I have to put a halt to whatever this could be now, before it gets really murky.”
He smiles, soft and knowing. “I can’t change your mind, can I?”
I want to ask him to do his best, because a huge part of me would love it if he could. But I don’t. Instead, I flex my hands, willing myself more strength.
Sawyer’s expression falls, the post-game glow of the playoffs win long gone as he waits for another beat. “We don’t have to rush this. I’m not going anywhere.”
“But you might,” I blurt before I can stop myself. The words tumble out of my mouth, leaving me wishing I could shove them right back in.
“You said Theo’s falling in love with me.” His hand slides to my arm. “You never said how you feel.”
His words hit me like a slap in the face. How do I feel? I know exactly how I feel. I am falling just as hard, if not harder, and that’s a double whammy I can’t handle right now.
Sawyer waits patiently for me to respond, but when I don’t he simply nods before he pulls me into him and wraps his arms around me.
“I didn’t think tonight would end like this,” he says softly, his words brushing through my hair. He pulls me closer, as if memorizing the shape of my body before letting go.
“That makes two of us,” I whisper.
He steps back, hands shoved into his pockets. “Just know, I’ll be wherever you need me to be. That’s not going to change.”
With that, he gives me one last look, and heads for the door.
When it closes behind him, the silence rushes in. I lean back against the wood, pressing my palms flat against it, fully aware that the ache spreading through my chest is self-inflicted this time.
And I have to be okay with that.