Page 107 of Sawyer

“Daddy, you okay?” Ella asks.

“Yeah, Sawyer, are you all right?” Ava’s eyes are wide.

I manage a tight smile. “Yeah. I’m good. Just—give me a minute.”

I turn toward the fridge, but Ava stops me.

“You grabbing ice?”

“I was, yeah.”

“You’re not supposed to ice a burn.” She turns on the faucet and waves me over. “Run it under water instead. Can I see?”

“I’m all right.”

Ava gives me a look. “Sawyer, you just burned yourself. Show me your hand, then put it underneath the faucet. Now.”

“You’re cute when you’re bossy.”

“I’m always cute. Now show me your hand.”

Furrowing her brow, she clucks her tongue when she sees how red my palm is. Gently wrapping her hand around my wrist, she guides it underneath the cool water.

“That feels good,” I murmur. It’s not just the water. It’s her touch. The warm feeling I get being taken care of by her.

Being near her.

Her hair falls into her face, and she tucks it behind her ear with her free hand. There’s a freckle on her chin I resist the urge to kiss. Her leg brushes mine as she continues to hold my hand underneath the water.

Didn’t realize how manic I felt until, well, she got here. Suddenly I feel calm. And very, very tired.

Stay forever, I want to say.

“I’ll be okay,” I say instead.

Turning her head, she looks at me. “You’re not okay. You’re so tired that you just burned yourself. Go lie down. I’ll feed these turkeys and take them outside while you sleep.”

“I don’t need?—”

“You do.” Her gaze bores into mine. “This is what I’m talking about, Sawyer. You gotta let people help you. You’ve been up all night and I can tell you’re about to fall over.Go lie down.”

Searching her green eyes, I’m gripped by this feeling of—Christ, I can only describe it as being completely and utterly overwhelmed. Like the dam inside me suddenly gives, releasing all the pent-upeverythingI’ve been holding back. The joy and the frustration. The panic, the anxiety, the fear.

The hope.

Most of all, though, what I feel is tired. The kind of bone-deep exhaustion you can’t ignore.

I look at Ava. She looks back. It’s obvious she’s not going to let me do anything but go to bed.

It’s obvious she cares.

The girls are happily playing dress-up. Lunch is pretty much done. The kitchen is clean, although the dishes will need to be scrubbed after everyone eats.

“I’ve got it,” Ava says, reading my mind. She nods at the grilled cheese I already made. “Grab a sandwich and go.”

“You sure?”

“I’m sure.” She shuts off the water. “If you don’t sleep for at least three hours, I’m leaving.”

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