Page 48 of The Rest is History

“No, Faye’s . . .”

I turn back to Sawyer. He looks away. He doesn’t want to talk about it. I want to ask more questions about Faye and his whole family, but maybe it’s not my place.

We turn down into another dirt road, where a small house sits in the middle of some worked agricultural land. Asher’s car is parked next to a vegetable patch and a young woman is standing at the door with a baby in her arms.

“Come meet Pippin and Ezra,” Sawyer says.

It’s all too much, suddenly. Pippin. And Ezra. And I’ll be seeing Asher again after more than a month. My palms are sweaty. I wipe them on my jeans. I don’t want to dirty up the baby.

My heart pumps harder in my chest and I’m glued to my seat. Sawyer reaches out to touch my arm. I jerk back like I’ve been burned. “You okay?” he asks.

I nod. “Yeah. Yeah. Sorry. Just . . .”

He grins. “Nervous?”

I let out a short laugh. “Yeah. A little.”

“C’mon. He’ll like you.”

I follow after Sawyer. His sister is a waif of a girl with dark hair, like Sawyer’s and big brown eyes. Her eyes dance when she sees him and widens even more when she sees me.

“Sawyer’s friend. Hi. I’m Pippin.”

I take her hand. “Hi. It’s nice to meet you. I’m Reece.” Then, I hold out the box of cookies I got at the convenience store. “I brought this.” I try to get a peek at the baby but he’s wrapped in a blanket.

“Cookies. I love them. Thank you, Reece,” she says excitedly. “Come on in.”

I follow them inside. Asher is in the kitchen which is on the left side of a modestly sized living room. The living room is straight out of the sixties, including a plastic covered rocking chair in the corner by the window.

Sawyer takes the baby from his sister and holds him up. “Hey, buddy,” he says, as he walks to the kitchen. Asher’s back is to me. He and Sawyer exchange an intimate greeting that lasts about one second. Watching him put his mouth on Sawyer for even one second makes my blood hot, but not in the way I expected. I’m not jealous. I’m . . .

Sawyer catches me watching them. Something passes over his face and I can’t figure it out. Asher turns. He too, keeps his eyes on me for a moment longer than he should have. I lift my hand in greeting.

“Hi, Reece,” he says.

I clear my throat so I don’t croak. “Hi, Asher.”

“Come here,” Sawyer says. I don’t know about the dip in his voice. Gruffer than usual.

I don’t move. I’m suddenly rooted to the spot, unable to take my eyes off Asher with his husband and the baby between them.

Pippin gives me a nudge. “Go on. I’ll set the table.” I like Pippin, I decide. If I ever had a sister, I would’ve been glad if she was like Pippin.

I step into the small space in the kitchen. I don’t know where to look. I don’t belong here.

Sawyer turns to me. “This is Ezra,” he says.

I don’t miss the gentleness in his voice.

“Do you want to hold him?”

I nod, swallowing hard. This is ridiculous. What is there to fucking cry about?

Sawyer handles the baby carefully, transferring him to me and making sure he’s snugly in my arms before letting go.

My chest aches. Little Ezra looks up at me with big eyes. They’re brown. Brown eyes, like his mom. His skin is soft and pink. Tiny arms jerking as he gazes up at me like the whole world exists on my face.

Sawyer shifts. “I’ll go check on Pip’s greens outside. See how they’re doing.” His voice is tender, like he’s trying not to disturb the moment. I can’t move. The sounds around me are muted. Faraway, there is a clinking of plates as Pippin sets the table. A door creaks open.

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