Page 22 of Infinite as They Come (Sinful Trilogy #3)

Sawyer

Life was punching me in the stomach over and over again lately.

I had it all planned out in my head: celebrate Holly finishing school, track down that house, move us both into it so we could spend the rest of our lives there together.

It was never supposed to be some clean, over in a day thing.

I knew that. I had prepared myself for that, but at the same time all I could think about was how it wasn’t supposed to be this damn hard .

My whole life I had been waiting to get my mom back into my life, but finding her had been more painful than I ever thought possible.

There were too many wounds I had spent years healing, and undoing them felt like it would just end in me bleeding out.

I should have talked to her the other day at the park.

Should have tried to open up and be honest and share all that pain and confusion that had been building up since the day she left.

Should have told her just how much I missed her.

Instead, I hung out with my brother who had a soft spot for flowers and plants and bugs that helped said flowers and plants grow.

Spencer was a good kid. He was quiet and shy and a little nervous, and I had liked hanging out with him and hearing him talk about which flowers were his favorite and which ones he planned on planting next.

Kurt seemed nice enough too, but that whole time we talked all I could do was sit there and wonder, are you good to her?

Do you hurt her like he used to? Are you hiding something you don’t want me to see?

I liked to think I was good at reading people, that I could understand them, and I knew one conversation with Kurt wouldn’t reveal every last thing about him, but he seemed friendly.

Gentle. Not just to Spencer, not just to my mom, but to me too.

It was weird to have someone like that in my life.

Someone older who was good and patient and welcoming.

I was glad Spencer was surrounded by that. By good people.

My head shook, grounding myself back in reality.

Mandy was showing me another place. She was out the front on her phone as I made my way to the back of the house.

There was a lot of space. A lot that I could do with it.

But… no lemon tree. I was pretty sure Holly would roll her eyes and laugh if I told her what I was doing, that my requirements were stupid fucking specific: but that was what she wanted.

What she dreamt of. And I just wanted to give her that dream.

The place was on the brink of falling apart, anyway.

Broken floorboards, a chimney that looked like it’d fall on your head and kill you, a kitchen that would cost way too much to fix, and I wasn’t exactly in a position to throw money around.

It just felt like another house that was a bust, and the longer I stood in the backyard, on all that dry, dead land, the more I knew it would never work.

I’d have to be getting back to the motel, anyway.

I had left in the morning and Holly was probably wondering what I was up to.

The last couple weeks had me distant and quiet, and I hated shutting her out, but my head was a mess.

Trying to find the house, seeing my mom for the first time in far too many years, meeting Spencer. It made my brain feel too scrambled.

I said goodbye to Mandy who looked a little defeated. She shoved a bunch of papers I’d have to hide later in my hands about homes in the area I might have been interested in before promising me that she’d find that house.

It was a slow drive on my way to the motel, the window down and the breeze running through my hair as I went. I’d find it for her. The house. Our house. The one we’d spend forever in, and the word forever and Holly just went hand in hand.

After almost a good hour behind the wheel, I was nearly at the motel, but that was when a small figure on the sidewalk caught my attention.

That dark, messy hair and small frame. Spencer.

I checked the time on the dashboard. Just after three.

What kind of big brother would I be if I just let him walk home?

I pulled up a few feet in front of him and rolled the window down, waiting for him to get closer before I called out his name.

His head snapped over to me, his fingers tugging at the end of his T-shirt as we locked eyes.

He was so small. My mom was right when she said he was little for his age.

“Sawyer?” he asked softly.

I nodded. “Hey. You walking home?”

“School just finished.”

“You… You want a ride?”

He straightened up his glasses. “I can ride in your truck?”

“Yeah, you can ride in my truck.” I reached over and opened up the door for him. “Come on, it’s too hot to be walking around today.”

He slid into the seat and shut the door, setting his bag down gently next to him. Then he rested his hands against the smooth leather, patting it softly. “Wow. Holly gave this to you?”

“She did.”

“Wow,” he said again.

“Yeah, that’s my reaction to everything she does. Buckle up, okay?” With his little hands, he followed my instructions, and soon I was back in traffic. “You were going home, right?” I asked. I remembered the way. It was kind of hard to forget.

“Yup,” he answered, rubbing at his arm.

“So…” I cleared my throat, the silence between us way too noticeable. “The other day was fun, huh? At the park. With your dad. And your mom. My mom too. The lady who lives with you.”

“I really liked it,” he said softly. “And so did my mom and dad.”

“Yeah? I’m glad. I… I liked it too. You’re real good with all that gardening stuff.”

“It’s fun.”

“What makes you like that stuff?” I asked, trying to keep the silence at bay. “I mean, what do you enjoy about it?”

“I don’t know. It just makes me happy, and I get to do it on my own and with my dad sometimes, and I don’t…” His voice trailed off .

“Don’t what?”

“I don’t… I don’t really have a lot of friends…”

Those words echoed there in the truck as we came to a red light. My eyes met his: all big and brown and vulnerable behind his glasses, his hand clutching his arm for a second.

“I get it,” I said. “I was kinda a loner in school too.”

“Really?” He blinked at me. “You?”

“Yeah, I was. You know, kids can be assholes,” I said, and Spencer let out a laugh that had me laughing too. “Don’t tell your parents I said that.”

His head shook. “I won’t.”

“Those, uh, guys from the other day?” I continued. “They give you a hard time, don’t they?”

Chewing at his bottom lip, he nodded. “Sometimes.”

“It’s not you. Don’t think it’s you. Sometimes kids can be… not good. I’m sorry they’re mean to you.”

Again, his hand found his arm, and I could see his little fingers clinging on tight.

“Is your arm okay?” I asked.

He gave me a frantic nod. “It’s okay.”

“You keep holding it like that.”

“We did a lot of writing at school today.”

“Why do—” I tugged the sleeve up a little and winced when I saw a bruise there. “Spencer…”

“Don’t tell my parents!” he cried out. “They’ll go down to my school again and talk to their parents and then everyone will find out. It’s embarrassing. Last time everyone in my class knew about it. If I tell again, the whole school will know this time.”

My finger gripped the steering wheel tight, hissing as the red light turned green. “I gotta tell them. I have to tell your mom. My mom. Our mom. Fuckin’ whatever—don’t tell them I said that either. I have to tell them.”

“It doesn’t even hurt that much! I can still move it. I can write and wear my bag and garden and it’s not even the first time they did it so it’s not a big deal. ”

My head snapped to him. “How many times has this happened?”

“Twice.”

“Spencer.”

“Three times.”

“ Spencer .”

“Those guys are bigger than me. They’ll just do it again and it’ll be worse this time. It’ll be worse if I tell!”

Spencer wasn’t the kind of kid to fight back. I could tell. It was funny, because I had been the complete opposite back in school. Defending myself had become second nature, but it seemed like he didn’t have that in him.

“Please don’t make me tell anyone,” he said, voice all pleading.

My eyes stayed stuck ahead of me. I felt stupidly protective over him.

It was obvious he was a little sensitive, and that didn’t make him weak or anything, but combining that with his quietness meant that he had a target on his back.

But still, even the calmest of animals bit back eventually if you pissed them off enough.

“I won’t make you do anything you don’t wanna,” I said. “But you can’t let those guys give you shit, you know?”

“They’re all bigger than me, Sawyer. I don’t even know how to fight. I’ll lose.”

“I should teach you,” I muttered with a laugh.

From the corner of my eye, I could see his head snapping towards me. “You will?”

I frowned, giving my head a shake. “I was just kidding.”

“Mom and Dad always say violence isn’t the answer.”

“They’re…” I cleared my throat. “Right.”

“Do you know how to fight?”

“Depends on what you mean by fight.”

“Can you teach me?” He tugged at the end of my shirt. “Please?”

“I can’t teach you how to fight, Spencer.”

“Why?”

“Because… violence isn’t the answer,” I said, but there was zero conviction in my voice. Fuck, violence was the only answer sometimes, and if I was in Sp encer’s position, I would have been swinging the second I walked through the school gates. “Peace and love or whatever.”

“Well, can Holly teach me?”

I snorted. “Holly? Holly doesn’t know how to fight. We should organize that, actually. Would be fun to see.”

“Well, who else will teach me?”

We slowed down at a red light and I finally looked at him again, his eyes all big and pleading behind his glasses. He slid them up at his nose, and I swore he was doing it on purpose, because how the hell was I supposed to say no that?

“You really wanna learn how to fight?” I asked.

He gave me a firm nod. “Really. Please, Sawyer. Please, please, please.”