Darlene
Sawyer directed the Uber driver to take us to the ER entrance at UCSF medical center. A team approached with a gurney. Sawyer helped me out of the car, and held me gently, reverently, as if he were reluctant to let me out of his arms. He set me down on the gurney and I bit back a cry at the pain when my heel touched down. But I couldn’t hold the next little moan in as we went over a bump. Sawyer grabbed my hand and I squeezed. He squeezed back.
The ER was bustling with nurses, doctors and people in pain; the air a sterile cold. They wheeled me into a space and closed a curtain around me. A nurse tucked a pillow under my foot, and then laid an ice pack on it. I clenched my teeth as the pain turned icy and bit deep. Under the bright glare of the hospital lights my foot looked awful; swollen and wearing a bouquet of purple, red, and blue bruises. My last two toes throbbed dully; a terrible just-stubbed-my-toe pain that wouldn’t fade.
Sawyer pulled up one of the two chairs in the little space, and took my hand, wrapping his warm fingers around my cold ones.
“A doctor will be in shortly to examine you,” the nurse said. “It looks like you’ve broken a toe or two. He’ll want x-rays to confirm. In the meanwhile, I can give you something for the pain.”
“Advil,” I said.
“Are you sure you don’t want something stronger?”
“No, just your strongest Advil, please.”
She smiled. “My strongest Advil is called Percocet, honey, but you’re the boss.”
I took the little pills and the glass of water, not looking at Sawyer.
“I try to stay away from anything that alters my mental state,” I said in a quiet voice when the nurse had gone.
“You don’t have to explain,” Sawyer said.
“I feel like I do,” I said. I forced my eyes to find his. “I hate how you learned about my past. I’m sorry it came out like that—at the worst time and place for you.”
“It’s not what’s going to hurt my chances with Olivia.”
“I would never, ever bring anything bad near her.” Tears stung my eyes again. “I promise you that. I never would.”
“I know you wouldn’t,” he said. “I freaked out about your record because of what happened to my mom. And Molly, too. And because I had my own ideas about what justice means. But what I believe has been turned up on its ass, and the only thing that matters right now is you.”
I sniffed and wiped my eyes. “It’s a good feeling.”
“What’s that?”
“Being trusted.”
Sawyer took my hand and pressed it to his lips just as a young doctor with a bald head and warm smile stepped into the space and examined my foot.
“Looks like a few breaks, judging by the swelling and bruising,” he said. “Let’s get you to x-ray and see what’s what.”
They wheeled me to the radiology department where it was determined I had hairline fractures of the fourth and fifth middle phalanges. I breathed a sigh of relief. As far as breaks went, I could do worse than hairlines.
Back in the ER space the doctor was all smiles. “You’ll live to dance another day,”
“Are you sure?”
“If you rest well, you should be ready to roll in six weeks.”
“Six weeks,” I said. “What about work? I have to stand for my job.”
The doc wrinkled his lips. “Better if you didn’t. We’ll get you a walking boot but the more you can stay off it, the faster it’ll heal. A nurse will be in soon to wrap you up, and give aftercare instructions.”
He went out, but no nurse made an appearance. I was obviously a low priority in an ER filled with more serious injuries and illnesses. I shivered in the cold, sterile air, and sharp pain shot up my foot at the movement, making me wince.
“Will you hand me my sweater?” I asked.
“There’s something I’ve been meaning to tell you,” Sawyer said, reaching at his feet. He came up with the old, ratty thing with holes at the cuffs. “This is the ugliest sweater I have ever seen in my life.”
I giggled then winced again. “Don’t make me laugh. It hurts.”
Sawyer tucked the sweater around my shoulders. My eyes closed and wanted to stay closed. The exhaustion of the dance performance and the pain were dragging me down.
Sawyer brushed a lock of hair from my forehead. “You should try to get some sleep, if you can. We might be here awhile.”
“What about you? You should go. It’s so late and you have studying to do…”
He shook his head, his chin rocking on the back of his hand. “You’ve been taking care of me for ages,” he said. “It’s my turn.”
I smiled and my eyes started to close against the bright lights glaring down over us. No sooner had I begun to drift, then the nurse came back. She wrapped my foot, put a heavy walking boot on it, and gave me a cane.
“A cane to go with your granny sweater,” Sawyer said, pushing me to the front of the hospital in a wheelchair.
“Ha ha. Sawyer the Comedian.”
“I’m here all night, folks.”
I hoped that was true.
We took a cab home and Sawyer carried me up the two flights of stairs like it was nothing. He set me down in my place, and I gave a cry as I tried to put weight on my foot. “They said I can walk in this,” I said, holding on to his shoulder. “Do you think they lied to get me out of there?”
Without hesitation, Sawyer picked me up again, cradling me. He carried me to my bed in a corner alcove between the kitchen and the loveseat under the window, and gently set me down.
“Do you want anything?”
“Maybe some water? And then you can go and study. I don’t want to keep you.”
He shot me a small grin. “What if I want to be kept?”
“Then stay,” I said. “I do want to keep you. And I don’t want to sleep alone.”
“Me neither. I’m tired of it. And I’m just…tired.”
“Come here,” I said. “Actually, take off your suit and then come here.”
“If I take off my suit will you take off that sweater?”
“Will you stop? I love this sweater. I wear it all the time.”
“I know,” he said, bringing me the glass of water.
“Your mega-mind remembers everything I wear, doesn’t it?”
“I remember more than what you wear, Darlene,” he said, loosening his tie enough to take off. “I remember many things about you.”
“Like what?”
He removed his jacket and tossed it on the loveseat. “I remember you in the grocery store the day we met, and how you smirked at me like I was an idiot for not wanting you to cook dinner for me.”
I grinned. “Stubborn man-pride.”
Sawyer took off his pants and dress shirt, leaving him in his boxers and undershirt.
“I remember how your hands felt on my shoulders the first time you massaged me. I remember how red the cherry was that you ate at the club that night. I wanted to kiss you so badly; more than I’d ever wanted to kiss anyone. I remember how you tasted the first time I did kiss you, and secretly wondered if you’d ruined me for all other women.”
He climbed into bed beside me. Instantly, I curled into him and he wrapped his arms around me. We held each other close, my face nestled in the crook of his neck, and his chin on my head. My heart pounded to be this close to him. In bed with him, even if all we did was this.
“Why are you telling me all this?” I whispered.
“I’m trying to be romantic. How am I doing so far?”
I smiled. “Not bad. But you’ll have to continue for me to know for sure.”
Sawyer chuckled and pulled back to look at me. His eyes softened as they swept over me, like he was memorizing me over and over again, only because he wanted to. His fingers drew my face as he spoke.
“I remember every time you made me laugh when it felt like it had been ages since I’d even smiled,” Sawyer said, and his voice turned gruff over his next words. “And I remember how you held my daughter like you’d been doing it forever, and that was the first time I imagined having something more than what I had.”
Tears filled my eyes. “Sawyer…”
“Darlene, I don’t know what I’m doing. I don’t know what’s coming around the corner and I’m fucking scared to death. But the half of my heart that isn’t banged up from this fight for Olivia is all yours. It’s not much but it’s all I got right now.”
“I’ll take it.”
“Are you sure? Because I’m scared I can’t give you what you deserve. I’m living partially in the real world, and partially in a future that’s a handful of days away. Jackson—and his mother—think otherwise, but dammit, Darlene, it’s not fair to subject you to the shit storm that might be coming.”
“I can take it, Sawyer,” I said. “I want to take it. I’d rather be here for you, if it helps at all.”
“It does,” he said. “So much.”
I snuggled closer to him, ignoring the throbbing of my foot. That pain was a much weaker echo of the one that lived in my heart, for him.
He stroked my hair. “I’ve never slept with a woman before. Just sleep, I mean.”
“Neither have I,” I murmured against his neck. “I’ve never just…been held. It’s nice.”
I felt him melt around me, the tension seeping out, at least for now. For a few precious hours, we slept deeply, tangled together. I held on to him, and he held on to me, just like he promised.
The following morning, I woke to sunlight streaming in from the window above the loveseat and Sawyer standing, looking out, his eyes full of thoughts.
“Hey,” I said softly. “Sleep well?”
He nodded. “It’s nearly ten o’clock. I haven’t slept this late since the summer before I started Hastings.” He turned to me, and I could see the weight of his exam, and the fight for Olivia were back, pushing him down again. “How’s the foot?”
“Hurts, but I’ll live.”
“I wish I didn’t have to leave you,” he said, coming to sit with me on the bed.
I turned him so I could rub his back, keep the tension from digging deep, but I was too late. “What time is your bus to Sacramento?”
“One o’clock,” he said. “I’ll get you some groceries or…anything else you need before I go.”
I turned him to me and cupped his cheek. “You’re good at taking care of people.”
His smile wilted a little and I knew he was thinking of Olivia. He patted my arm and rose quickly. “I’ll make you some coffee.”
Sawyer made the coffee, then left to shower, change and pack. He came back afterward and sat with me, hardly saying anything. I let him have his silence, and just held him, our fingers laced together.
At noon, Jackson arrived to take him to the bus depot. His suit looked slept in, and he kept sunglasses over his eyes, even indoors. He propped one hand against my doorway.
“I am…so hungover.” He craned his neck forward, then took his sunglasses off to blink blearily at me. “I was going to ask how you dance show went. Judging by that boot on your foot, I’d say either really badly, or you slayed so hard, you up and hurt yourself.”
“The first one,” I said, with a smile.
“The second,” Sawyer said.
“Thatta girl.” Jackson shuffled into my place, and clapped Sawyer on the shoulder.
“You ready?”
“As I’ll ever be.”
“My man. Let’s roll.”
I got to my feet and hobbled on my cane. The pain wasn’t as bad though the notion of a six-hour shift at the spa the next day made me vaguely nauseated.
“Are you sure you want to come?” Sawyer asked. “Maybe you should rest.”
“Shush, I’m coming.”
“Shush, she’s coming,” Jackson said. He jerked a thumb at Sawyer. “This guy, am I right?”
The guys helped me down the stairs and into the car Jackson had waiting. I guessed he was doing really well at his firm. I wanted that for Sawyer; to get his clerkship and the career he dreamed of. But he needed to pass the bar first, and in the car ride to the bus depot, he was silent. Preoccupied. His eyes were full of thoughts he didn’t share with Jackson or me.
I held his hand the entire time and he held mine, but he hardly spoke. I hoped Jackson would get him talking with his usual jovial humor, but Jackson was nursing a hangover and when I looked over at him, he was snoozing against the window.
At the bus depot, we roused Jackson, and Sawyer got his bag from the trunk. We stepped outside into the brilliant sun, and I recognized this spot as the place where I got off the bus after my trek from New York.
“Jesus, the sun hates me,” Jackson muttered, shielding his eyes even though his sunglasses were back on. He clapped his hands together once, winced at the sound, and then turned to Sawyer. “This is it. The big one. How you feeling, champ?”
Sawyer shook his head. “I don’t know. My head’s not in the game.”
“Get your head off the bench and onto the field,” Jackson said. “It’s fourth-and-one. Ten seconds left on the buzzer. Hail Mary pass. Slap shot from center line, and other assorted sports metaphors.”
Sawyer rolled his eyes. “You watch too much ESPN.”
“No such thing.”
The two men clasped hands, then pulled each other in for a hug.
“You got this,” I heard Jackson say in a low voice. “I know you do.”
“Thanks, Jax,” Sawyer replied.
He turned to me, his eyes still so heavy. Jackson shot us a small smile, and took a few steps back to give us privacy.
“I gave the Abbotts your number in case Livvie needed anything,” Sawyer said. “I didn’t think to ask you. I hope that’s okay.”
“It is,” I said. “You’re going to do great.”
“We’ll see.”
“I’d tell you to break a leg, but the last time someone said that to me I wound up in the ER.”
He smiled thinly and I didn’t know what else to say or do to make this easier for him. The pressure was sitting on his shoulders, pressing him down.
What would Max say to make me feel better?
Max. He was like a guardian angel, watching over me. From Seattle.
I smiled to myself.
“You see that pillar over there?” I said, jerking my chin to the white column of cement. “When I first got off the bus from New York, Max was standing right there. I’d just left my home and traveled three thousand miles away from friends and family to a brand new city. But he was there, waiting for me. We didn’t know each other, but it didn’t matter. Just the fact he was there for me…that made all the difference in the world.”
I put my hands on Sawyer’s shoulders and kissed him softly on the cheek. “I’m going to be waiting for you right there when you get back. Okay?”
Sawyer nodded, his eyes sweeping over my face. Then he abruptly took my face in his hands and kissed me. Hard. A kiss I felt in every part of me, like a sudden rush of electricity, surging through me and leaving me breathless.
He kept his forehead to mine after he broke apart, his own breath coming hard.
“A tornado, Darlene,” he whispered. “I’m swept up.”
Then he pulled away, shouldered his bag, and got on the bus.
Jackson drove me back home, and helped me inside. He gave me a hug and one of his trademark, brilliant smiles.
“You call if you need anything,” he said. “I’m at your beck and call.”
“Thank you, Jackson.”
“Anything for you, Darlene.”
He turned to for the door.
“What are his chances?” I asked before he could turn the handle.
Jackson stopped, shrugged. “He’s got that freakish memory. That’ll get him through the multiple choice—”
“No, I meant what are the chances he’s going to keep Olivia?”
He blew air out his cheeks, and ran a hand over his close-cropped hair. “I don’t know, Dar. We just have to hope for the best.”
I shook my head incredulous. “Jackson, how do you stay so positive? My stomach feels like it’s going to turn itself inside out.”
“Well, according to Henrietta, the universe is listening.”
“What’s that mean?”
“You get back what you put in. Negative shit gets you negative shit. Positive energy begets positive energy. Whatever you put out there in the universe…it listens. And then it answers. So when I talk, I try to give it something it wants to hear and hope it answers with something I want to hear.” He shot me a wink. “Now if you’ll excuse me, I’m going to go lay down. I put in too much vodka last night and my body has answered.” He rubbed his temple. “Loudly.”
I watched him go, and heard voices on the stairs after he shut the door. A knock came, and Elena peeked her head in.
“I saw you come in with the boot and the cane,” she said. “Poor dear, is it broken?”
“Just two toes. The little ones. I’ll be fine.”
She nodded, her hands turning over and over in front of her. “Henrietta tells me the hearing was hard on Sawyer.” She leaned in, as if she were afraid the universe was listening too. “They can’t take her from him, can they?”
“I don’t know,” I said. “There’s a law. A deadline, of sorts. If he’d had Olivia for a year, with no help, he’d have been able to put his name on her birth certificate.”
Elena scoffed. “A year? That’s weeks away! What difference does a few weeks make?”
I shrugged helplessly. “That’s the law.”
Elena shook her head and then reached to pat my cheek. “We will tell the judge. I’ll come to the next hearing too. Character witnesses. Whatever he needs.”
Acting on pure instinct, I threw my arms around her. She hugged me back in a motherly embrace I was loathe to leave, and I smelled cumin and a light perfume, and over that, the clean baby scent of Olivia. She was still there, in Elena’s clothes and in her skin.
When I pulled back, the woman had tears her in eyes.
“I love that little girl. And I love him, the sweet boy.”
“I do too,” I said. “Both of them.”
Elena’s face burst into a smile like a sun from behind dark clouds. “See? What did I tell you,” she said, moving toward the door. “This is no house. It’s a home.”
Elena left and the quiet of my place descended, leaving me with a thought that sunk its claws into me and wouldn’t let go; if Sawyer lost Olivia, I’d lose them both, and this home would be empty.