Total pages in book: 113
Estimated words: 110113 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 551(@200wpm)___ 440(@250wpm)___ 367(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 110113 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 551(@200wpm)___ 440(@250wpm)___ 367(@300wpm)
Really, he and Sally are taking care of each other, and it shows.
An ache takes root in my gut. I want someone to take care of me that way.
I know I’m capable of taking care of someone else.
Question is, can I let them do the same for me?
“I’m just happy,” Wyatt says softly. “The opposite of the angsty, drunk mess I was three months ago? Why, thank you. If you’d told me back then that I’d be living my dream life with my dream girl, I would’ve laughed in your face and then, like, secretly cried in my room for a week.”
“We’re all crying a lot these days, aren’t we?”
“That’s what happens when you feel your feelings. Ella’s taught us a lot about that, hasn’t she?”
I can’t help but smile. “We’re parenting her, and she’s parenting us too.”
Wyatt meets my eyes. “You told me once to keep moving toward the light. To share my heart.” He pats me on the chest. “I’m going to give you the same advice. Don’t let this woman slip through your fingers, Sawyer. Think outside the box and give yourself a chance. You’ll be glad you did.”
CHAPTER 25
Sawyer
LOVE IS LIKE A RATTLESNAKE
I think about Wyatt’s little speech all morning as I brush Ella’s hair and teeth, pick up the house, and make the tomato soup.
Jump in with both feet. Move toward the light. It’s that simple.
Ordinarily, I’d take his words with a grain of salt. I love my brother, but he’s never been the guy you go to for any kind of wisdom or advice.
Right now, though, I have to admit that he’s living the dream. He’s got the girl. He’s thriving at work. He may still gamble like a degenerate, but he usually wins. When he doesn’t, he just … lets it go.
Why not give his advice a try? Who knows, maybe he’s right about just showing up consistently, and showing Ava we belong together.
Really, what other option do I have? She’s not looking for a grand gesture or pretty promises. I can only be there for her in the way her ex wasn’t. Maybe that will be enough.
It has to be enough.
By the time the house is clean and the soup is done, I’m beat. I really start to feel it just as Ava texts me that they’re on their way.
I’d love to be able to sit and take five, but I’m so tired that I’m worried I won’t get back up. So I pour myself more coffee and push through, assembling the grilled cheese sandwiches, emptying the dishwasher, and quickly filling out a form online for the soccer camp Ella’s attending over spring break. They give them these cute little jerseys that she’s obsessed with, but if I don’t get the form filled out in time, she won’t get one. I can just imagine the meltdown she’d have once she found out.
By the time Ava pulls up, I’m fading fast. Telling myself I’ll get a boost when I see her, I make my way to the front door. Ella sprints ahead of me, shouting Junie’s name.
“She’s here! She’s here!”
Laughing, I open the door. “She is! It’s Junie! And Miss Ava!”
Ava’s eyes catch on mine, immediately lighting up. The contents of my rib cage turn upside down as I take in her smile, her tousled hair, the sweatshirt she’s wearing that’s already stained with marker.
She’s so pretty, it fucking hurts.
“Hi,” she says.
“He—” I clear my throat. “Hey. Hi, Ava. You look gorgeous.”
“You look tired,” she replies, stepping inside to loop an arm around my neck and pull me in for a hug.
Somewhere in the back of my mind, it registers that Junie darts inside the house too. She grabs Ella’s hand and they disappear down the hallway.
Chuckling, I wrap my arms around Ava’s waist and pull her snug against me. “Thanks for the compliment. Turns out Ella isn’t a fan of sleepovers. I had to grab her from my brother’s at two in the morning.”
“Oh, Sawyer, Jesus. I’m so sorry. If you wanna go lie down—”
“Nah.” I bury my face in her neck. “I only wanna lie down with you. Since that’s not an option, why don’t we have lunch instead?”
Her breath hitches when I turn my head a little, my scruff catching on her skin.
“Smells good in here.” She kisses my cheek, and my blood pulses. “Don’t tell me you made that soup from scratch.”
“Had to counterbalance the fake cheese somehow.”
“Sawyer.”
I tighten my grip on her waist. “Yeah, pretty girl?”
“I missed you.” It’s a whisper.
The intimacy of that admission, the sincerity in her voice—it splits me in half.
I kiss her neck. “I missed you too.”
Lord, what I’d give to be able to take her to bed right now. I’d lay her down. Fuck her slow, because in this fantasy we’d have all day and all night to spend together. Then I’d pull her to me and we’d fall asleep. After a long nap, we’d wake up and I’d fuck her again before making cocktails. She’d sip her mezcal negroni while I made some comfort food. Steaks, maybe, with roasted potatoes and my mom’s spinach and pecan salad. Something chocolate for dessert.