He’s drowning in it.
One night, after Lacee falls asleep on the couch, Sawyer lifts her without a word. Carries her inside like she weighs nothing. I follow, quiet, heart pounding at the intimacy of watching him in this space—soft, careful, devoted.
He tucks her in. Adjusts the blanket. Brushes a kiss over her hair.
My chest aches.
When he comes back out, he stops short, like he’s surprised to find me still there.
“You don’t have to stay up with me–I’m a night owl,” he says.
“I know but I like to.”
He leans against the doorframe, arms crossed. Watching me like I’m something that might bolt if he blinks.
“You’re good for her,” he says again.
The words land differently this time.
“And for you?” I ask quietly.
His jaw tightens. “That’s where it gets complicated.”
“Because of your wife?” I ask.
He doesn’t flinch. Doesn’t look away. “Among other things.”
“And because I’m younger,” I add. “Thirteen years, right?”
His mouth curves, sharp and humorless. “You did the math.”
“I’m not naïve,” I say. “And I’m not reckless.”
His eyes flick over me, slow and deliberate. “Could’ve fooled me.”
Heat floods my face. “Excuse me?”
“You walk into my house,” he says, voice dropping, “turn it upside down, and look at me like you know exactly what you’re doing.”
My pulse jumps.
“Do you think I don’t feel it?” he continues. “Do you think I don’t want you?”
The air crackles.
I stand. Slowly. Step closer. Stop just out of reach.
“Then why don’t you?” I ask.
His breath changes. Deepens.
“Because wanting you isn’t the same as deserving you,” he says. “And because you deserve more than a man still learning how to breathe again.”
The honesty cuts deeper than any touch.
I swallow. “I didn’t come here to save you.”
“I know,” he says. “That’s why it scares the hell out of me.”
