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Cali swallowed. “I wanted to check on her after the other day.”

I nodded. “She’s mentioned you.”

“She has?” she asked incredulously.

“Yeah.” I smiled despite myself. “She talks about you like you’re some kind of superwoman.”

Cali blinked, like she'd forgotten she was allowed to matter to people she’d only just met. The tension eased from her shoulders.

“Oh. Okay,” she said.

“I can get her,” I offered. She hesitated and then nodded. I walked toward the conference room. Sawyer sat at the end of a table, her workbook open with lists that nearly filled the page, pencil resting between her fingers.

“Hey,” I said.

She looked up. “Hey.”

“Someone’s here to see you about volunteering.”

She straightened. “Who?”

“Cali.” Panic flickered across her face before she smoothed it away.

“Okay,” she said.

“You good?” I asked.

She nodded. “Yeah.”

I stepped back as she stood, and we walked back into the main room together. The moment Cali saw her, her entire posture shifted, and I could see the anxious fidgeting again.

“Hi,” Cali said gently.

“Hi,” Sawyer replied. They stood there for a second, and then Sawyer nervously breathed out.

“Promise I won’t freak again, if you want to follow me?” Sawyer asked, a tentative smile tugged at her mouth.

Thirty-One

Cali

Ialmost laughed. The honesty of it caught me off guard in the best way. Vulnerability still threaded through Sawyer’s voice, but this time it rested on something steadier, like she’d finally found solid ground.

I nodded, offering a small reassuring smile. “I’d like that.”

She nodded, leading me toward the smaller room Lane had just come out of. Sawyer pushed the door open and stepped inside. I followed, letting it close gently behind me. The noise of the main room softened immediately, and she moved to the end of the table, where a calendar and notebook still sat open, then turned to face me. For a second, neither of us spoke, simply taking each other in.

Up close, I could see the tiny freckles that dotted her nose. The same freckles she’d had as a kid.

“I’m really glad you came,” she said. The sincerity in her voice sank in.

“I didn’t realize you’d be here, but I’m glad you are.” I rubbed my palms together. “I wanted to apologize for the other day.”

Her brows pulled together slightly. “You don’t—”

“I do,” I cut in gently. “At the gym . . . I didn’t know. I didn’t realize what was happening, and I should have handled it better.”

The memory came back sharper than I wanted it to. The way her breathing had changed. The way her eyes had lost focus, like she wasn’t seeing what was actually in front of her anymore. At the time, I had automatically moved into clinical mode of assessing the situation. But there had been a moment where I hesitated, trying to understand what I was seeing instead of responding immediately. That moment mattered because I hadn’t fully understood that seeing me had been the cause.