Page 45 of Theirs for the Holidays

“Morning. Your alarm was going off.” He hands me my phone, and I realize I must have left it in my coat pocket.

“Oh, thanks. And sorry if it woke you up.”

“No big deal,” he replies.

He doesn’t say anything else, doesn’t call me out for being loud, but there’s a look in his eyes that makes my stomach flip. Maybe I’m reading into it or maybe he knows what I was up to.

There’s no way I can ask, so I just close the bedroom door and start getting ready to head out to the bakery.

I’m showered and dressed in record time, pulling my shoes on as I step out of my bedroom and walk through the house. The door to the office is still closed, but Rhett and Sawyer are both up in the living room.

“Hey,” Sawyer says as I pass by the door. “How are you feeling?”

“Much better,” I tell him. “I think yesterday was the worst of it.”

“Good. See you later then?”

I nod, fetch my keys, and step out into the early morning.

It’s kind of a relief to fall back into the familiar motions of morning prep. I make dough, bake cookies, stock the cases, with the same rhythm I always use. It takes my mind off… everything, which is good because day dreaming about the dream I had last night won’t get me anywhere. I don’t have time to burn things because I’m not focused.

There’s some lingering pain from my cramps, but it’s nowhere near as bad as it was yesterday, so I didn’t exactly lie to Sawyer when he asked. It’s not so bad that I’m doubled over, and after a cup of tea, a pastry, and some painkillers, I can push through easily enough.

The bakery opens at the usual time, and the morning rush hits. People come in, eager for breakfast or treats to take to work, and I try to keep up as best I can. The pain makes itself known about halfway through, and I make a face as I count out change for a woman in a business suit, grateful she’s too busy talking on her phone to notice.

When the chimes over the door signal someone else walking in, I groan internally, but then notice that it’s not a regular customer.

It’s Sawyer. He’s got a scarf wrapped around his neck and his leather jacket on, and everyone in the line looks at him as he sidles past and up to the counter.

“Hey,” he says, giving me a crooked grin.

“Hi. What are you doing here? Is everything okay?”

“I don’t know, is it?” He gives me a look, and I just stare back, blankly. Sawyer laughs, shaking his head. “I know we haven’t seen each other all that much since we were younger, but I like to think I still know you pretty well.”

“What does that mean?” I ask.

“It means I know you were just pushing through this morning, and you’re actually still in pain.” He glances back at the line of people who are starting to look a little impatient while we talk. “So I came to help.”

“Oh.” I stand there for a solid few seconds, surprised and touched. I honestly can’t remember the last time someone just showed up to help me because they knew I’d need it.

Sawyer shrugs off his jacket and comes behind the counter, throwing himself into the work of taking orders and accepting payments. He leaves me to fetch people’s baked goods, and it’s so much easier to wrap things up and pass them to him while he handles the customers.

We make it through the morning rush, and there’s a lull in the flow of people coming in, giving us time for a little break.

I glance over at him, taking in the way he looks relaxed here. “You’re good with the customers,” I say.

“Don’t sound so surprised. I’m not Rhett, living in a cabin in the middle of nowhere because I don’t know how to talk to people.”

“No, I know,” I tell him. “It’s just… I don’t know. It must be hard to get to know people well with all the traveling you do, but you’re still good at small talk and everything.”

He shrugs. “Sure, but that’s surface level stuff. It’s easy to chat with some old lady about what her grandkids want for Christmas. And besides, being friendly with the customers gets you better tips.” He points to the jar on the counter that is much fuller now than it usually is by this time of the morning.

“I get that, but still, don’t you miss the connection of sticking around sometimes? Getting to know people on a deeper level.”

He lifts one shoulder again. “I miss some people, the ones I already know I can trust,” he says, giving me a little smile. “But other than that, it’s not as bad as you’d think. Not getting close to people means I don’t have any expectations of them, and that means they can’t let me down. It’s just easier that way.”

There’s something in his voice that lets me know he’s speaking from experience. Someone has let him down, and probably pretty badly. With everything I’ve seen these last couple of days, I have to wonder if he’s talking about his brothers.