Page 94 of Sawyer

“Really, I don’t get how you haven’t been wifed up yet. Or would it be husband-ed?” Ava wipes her mouth with a napkin. “You’re an incredible cook. You’re excellent at duck duck goose. You look super fucking sexy in all kinds of hats.”

I touch the brim of my Stetson. “Thank you kindly, Miss Bartlett. And you know, I’ve been a little busy raising Ella on my own. Her mom isn’t super involved, so …”

The light flickers across Ava’s face as she reaches for the wine bottle and refills our glasses. “You ready to talk about it? I totally understand if you’re not comfortable sharing that stuff with me, but I’m here if you need someone to listen.”

Sipping my wine, I lick my lips. Wyatt really does know his shit when it comes to this stuff. The wine is delicious, intensely flavorful but not too sweet. I like the mellow buzz it gives me too.

With a groan, I stretch out on my side, my feet toward the fire. Its warmth radiates up my legs. “Is this the part of the night where we tell each other things we’ve never told anyone else?”

“I’m game if you are.”

“How are you so willing to just, yeah”—I sigh—“go there?”

She laughs. “Go where?”

“You have no problem accessing your inner child. You can be silly, but you can also be soft. You’re not terrified of the past—the truth—the way I am. I’m not good at being vulnerable.”

Ava’s eyes take on a thoughtful gleam as they search mine. “Just the fact that you can admit that means you’re not as terrified as you think. But really, give yourself more credit. As parents, we’re rewarded for being overachievers, like you mentioned. We’re made to feel like the more we do, the better off our kids will be. It’s hard not to get stuck in the mode of just, you know, getting shit done. Becoming a taskmaster machine.”

I scoff. “I feel like that’s all I do, get shit done. From the second I wake up to the second I crawl into bed, I am checking things off the never-ending to-do list I keep in my head. Been that way since my parents died. When you stay busy, you don’t have time to think too much about anything, you know?”

“Aw, Sawyer.” She reaches for my hand. “Like you said, it’s been your way of coping. Try not to beat yourself up too much.”

“It’s not a healthy way of coping, though. Rationally, I know that. But tough to get out of get-shit-done mode and deal with your baggage when you live with a toddler.”

Ava nods, thoughtful. “As parents, we really have no choice. Shit does need to get done. But I get what you’re saying about how easy it is to lose our true selves in the busyness. I figured out pretty early that if I spend all my timedoing, I feel super productive, but I’m also cranky and resentful and just … unhappy. So I try to let myself be a little less productive and a little more spontaneous—a little more fun. It’s what keeps me sane.”

“See?” I sip my wine. “Youletyourself have fun. You’re able to just do that, no angst.”

“Oh, there was angst. I mean, it cost me my marriage.”

My heart dips. From what she told me earlier, I had a feeling her ex was a big part of why she felt the need to bury her wild side. “I’m sorry.”

Ava glances at the fire and lets out a long, low breath.

“It’s a long story. I understand if you’re not up for it.” She glances at me.

I choose my words carefully. “I’ve wanted to know yours since the night we met. I’m ready.”

Her expression softens. “Why are you so good?”

“Because you’re teaching me how to have fun, which makes me happy, which in turn makes me an excellent listener. Talk.”

She smiles, reaching over to give me a gentle push. “I don’t exactly follow that line of reasoning?—”

“Well, yeah.” I’m smiling like an idiot, and I don’t care. “Being around you kind of scrambles my brain sometimes.”

“Didn’t know I had that kind of power.”

“Oh, pretty girl, you absolutely do know that.”

Her eyes get this funny look in them. She doesn’t need to ask me if I’m one-hundred percent sure I want to hear her story. She knows I do.

That simple, silent exchange—the intimacy of it—has me short of breath.

“Okay. Where to begin?” Sipping her wine, she sets it down on the ground just off the blanket. Then she pulls her knees to her chest and wraps her arms around her legs, shaking her hair out of her face. “Dan and I—we were young when we met in high school, and we were young when we got married at twenty-two. I look back and wonder what the hell I was thinking.” Scoffing, she looks down at her legs. “I was so eager to play house, you know? I’d been working my ass off training during the day to stay on the circuit and then going to school at night, and I think I was burned out and looking for a place to land. Looking for an excuse to slow down.”

My heart thumps inside my chest. I don’t love hearing her say another man’s name. But I do love how insightful she is. Like me, it’s obvious she’s turned this particular stone over and over in her mind until its edges have been worn smooth.

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