Page 40 of Infinite as They Come
Nodding slowly, I kept my eyes on his face. “Spencer seems to like you a lot. I think you might be his hero after you saved him the other day.”
A little smile tugged at Sawyer’s lips. Small and quick, but I caught it. “He’s a good kid.”
“He’s sweet. Just like his big brother.”
“I don’t know about that. I’m not sure if we’re alike.”
“Well, he seemed to like spending time with you. Kurt as well. What’s he like?” I asked.
Sawyer’s body stiffened a little. “Nice.”
“Just nice?”
“Really nice. Friendly. He’s good to Spencer. Patient.”
“That’s good,” I whispered. “Your mom said Spencer was kinda… sensitive. I guess patience is good for him.”
“Yeah.”
My eyes floated down to my bag, staring at the brown pebbled leather like I could see right through it. Part of me felt like I could. Those photos were burned in my memory. Little baby Sawyer, a bigger smiling Sawyer, and one that looked so unsure.
“Your mom gave me something,” I said, voice hesitant. “Some of your baby photos.”
His head darted my way, brows knitting together. “Baby photos? She doesn’t have any of those.”
“She said she had three in her bag the day she…” I couldn’t bring myself to say the word.
“Left?” he suggested.
I nodded, staring down at my lap. “Yeah. She had them on her and she kept them. She said they’re copies. The originals are at home. She has a lot, apparently. Just in case she ever loses them…”
He shifted uncomfortably in his seat. “I haven’t even seen my baby photos. My dad never took any. I didn’t even know I fucking had baby photos.”
“Well,” I said, “she gave me three. Do you want to see them?”
For a long moment, he stayed still. His long fingers just held the steering wheel like it was the only thing keeping him anchored, and all I could think about was how I wished I could take away every last ounce of pain he was feeling. Finally, he gave me a nod. A slow one, but it wasn’t uncertain, so I reached into my purse and pulled out the three photos.
Sawyer took them from me slowly, gripping them tight with his thumb and forefinger, that one from where he was just a few weeks old sitting there on top. That stony expression stayed there on his face. Brows a little furrowed, lips pressed tightly together, eyes focused below on the photos.
“She looks pretty happy,” he murmured.
I nodded. “Really happy. Like she couldn’t wait to hold you in her arms.”
He slid that photo to the back, and then the one of him in the park was looking back at him. “Damn, look at that hair.”
“You look so cute,” I whispered. “That one’s my favorite.”
He moved on to the third photo, to the one where he looked so small and uncertain, like there was something there on his mind that never should have been there at that age. I watched Sawyer closely, his eyes stuck there on his younger self. His thumbs ran along his little face in photographic form, swallowing hard.
“My first day of school. Look how miserable I am. See, I hated schoolbefore I even started.” His smile looked forced, and it disappeared when our eyes met. “Things were getting pretty bad between my parents around then.”
I nodded, my hand squeezing at his knee. “Do you wanna keep them?”
“I…” He pulled in a long breath. “I don’t have any photos from when I was a kid.”
“It might be nice to keep them.”
“I guess it can’t hurt, right? It just… It just feels weird looking at them.”
