Page 91 of The Only Thing That's Real
As well as she knows me, I’m not sure she would have guessed my nerves had gotten so out of control I nearly threw up in the shower. He’s only two and a half and I’m petrified. What I’m so afraid of I’m not sure, but the fear is all-encompassing.
When we went to bed, she assured me everything would be okay. Sawyer would love me, and she couldn’t wait for me to come home and tell her all about it. She also warned me about theterrible twos, urging me not to take it personally if he was grumpy or not into me. I felt guilty that she had buried her grandfather this morning and here she was taking care of me. I was supposed to be taking care of her, not the other way around. She told me I was being silly and reassured me her grandfather was at peace, therefore so was she. I had taken care of her this afternoon, the way she needed to be taken care of, as unconventional as it was. Tonight, it was her turn to take care of me.
At that moment professions of my love for her lingered on the tip of my tongue, but it wasn’t the time. I was emotional and exhausted. Not the state I want to be in when I tell her I love her. She needs to know no external factors are at play, and my words are sincere. I was dead serious when I told her I wanted to be everything to her. Her best friend. Her lover. Her protector. Instead, we went to bed, and while Ryan slept, I clung to her. She was the only thing to provide me with an ounce of peace.
I didn’t fall asleep until the sun was rising, as I do too often after years on the road. Ryan let me sleep in, not waking me until ten with coffee and breakfast. Her calm, quiet presence was reassuring. As the barn comes into sight, I wish she was sitting next to me, holding my hand and telling me everything will be okay.
But today is something Mia and I need to do alone. No Angus. No Ryan. No Mom. No siblings. Just the two of us and our son.
As always, I’m early, giving myself a fifteen-minute cushion to chill with the horses. The barn is my meditation room. The quiet, the animals, the smell of dust, dirt, and manure ground me. Considering how unsettled I feel, the ranch seemed the safest place.
I put the truck in park and climb out. As I round the hood, my favorite blond approaches, intercepting me on my way to the open barn doors.
“Hey, beautiful.” I scratch her head. “You here for moral support?”
Bernadette, my mom’s highland cow, is just who I needed to see. Bernie is as sweet as they come. She has free rein of the land and seems to always be there when you need her.
As sweet as she is, I walk around her into the barn where it’s cooler. Using the band around my wrist I pull my hair off my neck then make my way around each stall to say hello to Cal’s horses Mabel and Honey, Angus’s horse, River, a few boarders I’ve never met, and then the three beauties I just purchased. I didn’t tell Ryan I bought her a horse. Didn’t tell her I bought one for Sawyer and myself either. I see where our relationship is heading, but I’m not sure she’s at the buy-her-a-horse stage just yet.
Opening the door to the tack room I’d upgraded for my brothers a few years back, I’m hit by the smell of home. The hit of leather from the saddles, bridles, and reins are pure nostalgia. I never miss being here more than when I’m here.
When I’m actually here, my heart hurts from all the years I’ve missed. The time with family, of course, but also the years of peace. Quiet. Sanctuary.
That sanctuary quakes under the tires of an approaching vehicle. This is it. This is when life as I know it changes. What if he doesn’t take to me?
Damnit! I should have brought him a present. I thought the horses would help entertain him but now meeting him empty-handed seems like a metaphor for the role I’ve played in his life thus far.
Wiping my sweaty hands on my jeans, I inhale deeply through my nose and exhale out of my mouth, before I leave the quiet of the tack room, steeling myself to meet my son.
When I reach the open barn doors, the passenger side door of Angus’ truck is open. But I don’t see my brother. Instead, Mia climbs out of the truck with Sawyer in her arms. He’s wearing a John Deer T-shirt, jeans, and little man cowboy boots.
He’s the cutest thing I’ve ever seen.
Mia closes the door and sees me. Worry crosses her features for the briefest moment, replaced by a smile and a quiet, “Hey.”
“Hey,” I say, lifting a hand.
“Bernie!” Sawyer yells, when he sees the blond cow standing in the shade where I left her. He tries to kick out of his mom’s arms, but she wins the battle.
“You can say hi, but I’m not putting you down.” Sawyer’shand stretches out, ready to pet the cow as Mia walks toward her. “She’s sweet, but she’s still an animal. I don’t want him to get under her feet or for her to accidentally kick him.”
I nod my head, taking my first note of the day. I’m behind the parenting curve, and plan on soaking up everything I can whenever I can.
Sawyer pats the top of her nose and Bernie leans into him. It’s nice to see how familiar he is with her. I’m sure he sees her often what with the two of them living on the ranch with Angus in his house a half a mile past the barn. There isn’t anywhere better for a kid to grow up than this ranch.
“Come on, let’s go wash your hands.”
He tries to wiggle out of her arms, but she marches him into the tack room to use the sink. Standing on the opposite side of the island, I watch them work in tandem. Knowing exactly what his mom wants from him, he sticks his dirty cow hands under the water while Mia douses them in soap. She dries him off with a clean towel and he says, “Trucks, Mama?”
“In a minute. I want you to meet someone.” She rounds the island, stopping in front of me, her eyes glossy with unshed tears. “Sawyer, this is Knox.”
“Hi, Mox,” he says in his adorable two-year-old voice, holding his hand out for me to shake.
My heart cracks right down the middle. He’s already a little man. His own little person with his own personality.
Taking his tiny hand in mine, my future life flashes before my eyes. There is no doubt I’ll protect this little boy with my life. The half of my heart that doesn’t belong to Ryan is his. “Hi Sawyer, it’s nice to see you again.”
“Mox like trucks?”
