Sawyer (Carolina Reapers 2)

I eyed his perfectly ironed light-blue button-down. It brought out the gray in his eyes.

“Well,” I said, forcing myself to get a grip. “Now that you mention it, you do look a little stuffy.”

He smiled and nodded. “There she is.”

I chuckled, but the sound was lackluster as he parked in front of an assisted living facility and hurried around his truck to open my door, grabbing a bag from the back as he did.

“And she’s quiet again,” he said, eyeing how I wrung my hands as we stood outside his truck.

“I…” I sighed, mentally kicking myself. “I’m not used to this.”

“To what?” he asked, his tall frame blotting out the setting sun as he towered over me. The heat from his body practically sizzled on my skin, a constant hum pulsing his name: Sawyer. Sawyer. Sawyer.

“I don’t meet people’s families,” I said.

“That’s not true,” he countered, brushing back some of my purple hair. “You’ve met all the Reapers. They’re one big family.”

I nodded, unable to argue. “But meeting Axel and Lukas wasn’t like meeting a parent.”

Sawyer laughed, shaking his head. “No, I don’t imagine it was.” He motioned toward the entrance of the building.

I hesitated.

“Look, I get it,” he said. “It’s a big deal. And I didn’t mean to spring it on you, but we were texting, and I really wanted to see you tonight. You help me…”

“Relax?”

“Yes,” he said. “Something about your constant criticism or random facts puts me at ease.”

“And you haven’t had much of that lately, have you, Sawyer?” I dared to reach a finger up and graze the shadows beneath his eyes. He sighed under my touch.

“I’ll understand if you want to wait here for me. Or call a Lyft and do something fun on your night off.”

I furrowed my brow. “No, I wanted to see you too.”

“So you’ll come in with me?”

Heat flared beneath my skin, and I savored the sweet burn.

“Yes,” I said and let him take my hand as he led me into the building.

His mother’s room was on the fourth floor, though room wasn’t actually accurate. The place was as big as a small townhome complete with a city view, a kitchenette, and spa-quality bathroom.

“Sawyer,” his mother said with a grin as she ushered us inside. She was petite, almost frail, but still had a spark behind her eyes. Gray, just like Sawyer’s. Her stage in the fight with Parkinson’s was obvious, but she stood on her own with the aid of a handrail that ran on every wall of her apartment. “Come in. You’ve brought company.” She nudged him with her elbow as she smiled at me.

“Echo,” I said, reaching my hand toward her. She shook it and patted it at the same time before gesturing to a small gathering of chairs just off her master bedroom. Sawyer helped her into a leather recliner and then we both took seats across from her.

“I brought your favorite,” Sawyer said, handing her the small bag he’d grabbed from his truck. “Want me to—” He moved forward as if to help her, but she waved him off.

She opened it, then smiled and gave him an incredulous look. “You always spoil me,” she said, showing me the candy in the bag. “This is my favorite taffy from Seattle.” She glanced at him, a sadness in her eyes. “You know I don’t miss it that much,” she said. “You don’t have to—”

“I wanted to,” Sawyer cut her off.

She nodded, pressing her lips together. “You just missed your aunt Nancy,” she said, waving toward the door. “She’s only a few hours away in Virginia,” she said, mainly to me. “And she was here from breakfast until now. It was such a nice visit. Moving here has made me realize how much I miss my sisters.”

“I know you do, Mom.” Sawyer reached out and gently grasped her wrist. “I’m glad she was here today. I know it’s been a couple of days since I’ve been able to get over here.”

She rolled her eyes. “Sawyer, you have to stop that,” she chided. “I’m not a child to be entertained. I’m fine. You’re chasing that dream of yours, and I couldn’t be prouder.” Her eyes trailed to mine. “I’ve told him a thousand times he doesn’t have to look after me like he does, but he never listens.” She shrugged. “Though, as his girlfriend, I’m sure you’ve already discovered how stubborn he is.”

“Oh no,” I said.

“No, Mom,” Sawyer added.

“We’re not…” I stumbled for words. “We’re just friends.”

“Echo works at Scythe where the Reapers hang out between games and ice-time.”

I nodded while she eyed us both.

“Oh, well, that’s wonderful. I’m so glad you’re making friends,” she said, and it sounded so much like she was talking to a little-boy version of Sawyer that I laughed softly. The man sitting across from her was anything but little—tall, broad, muscled, and a rising NHL star. He shouldn’t have a problem making friends, but the happiness in her tone made it sound like he had had that trouble before. “I love your earrings,” she continued, eyeing the row of studs I had up and down my right ear. “I always wanted to get more piercings but…I don’t know, the act simply got away from me.”