6. Violet

Chapter 6

Violet

About an hour later, Jake rubs his eyes vigorously, and when his little fists drop, he barely stifles a yawn. A fond grin tugs at my lips as I watch him. He’s definitely getting tired. We’ve been at The Hideout for a while, and I swear he’s eaten half his weight in onion rings, so I’m not surprised he looks like he’s about to crash.

I check my phone for the time and see that it’s after eight, so it’s past his bedtime.

“You ready to go? I think Jake’s gonna pass out at the table,” I whisper to Sawyer. After Becca and Theo left half an hour or so ago, he finally moved closer to Margo, Noah, and me.

I might just be imagining it, but I almost feel like he’s been avoiding me ever since I pretended to be his girlfriend to get that woman—Scarlett—to back off from flirting with him. It seemed perfectly innocent at the time, when I impulsively decided to walk up to them, but now I’m wondering if it’s yet another awkward moment between us that will haunt me for the rest of my life.

What the hell is it with me around this man? I seriously never used to be this awkward .

Sawyer jerks slightly at the sound of my voice, as if snapping out of a daze. He glances at his phone and nods.

“Oh, yeah, it’s definitely his bedtime.” He shoves his chair back from the table, then looks at me, hesitating for a second before he says, “You’re welcome to stay out longer if you want. I’ll take him home and put him to bed.”

I shake my head quickly. “Thanks, but that’s okay. I’ll head back to your place now too.”

The three of us say our goodbyes to the remaining Aces team members who are still out celebrating, then Sawyer scoops up Jake, and we head out to our cars. I follow behind him in my car as he heads back to his house, and we arrive at almost the exact same time.

When I pull into the driveway, Sawyer is just hauling Jake out of the booster seat. The little boy is out cold by now, slumping over Sawyer’s shoulder.

He’s so gentle with his son, taking extra care not to wake him as he closes the car door and fumbles with his keys to open the front door. It’s a small gesture, one Sawyer probably doesn’t even think twice about, but it brings a smile to my face. I follow him inside quietly with my heart warming, and Sawyer drops his keys on the counter in the kitchen before heading to the stairs.

“Do you want me to put him to bed?” I whisper.

“Thanks, but I’ve got it,” he whispers back with a small nod of acknowledgement, then heads upstairs to put Jake to bed.

There isn’t anything for me to do, and I’m pretty tired myself after the excitement of the game and dinner afterward, so I follow them upstairs. As I tiptoe up the steps, I realize I still have the four leaf clover in my back pocket, so I fish it out carefully.

Jake’s bedroom is at the end of the hall, past both mine and Sawyer’s, and decorated with a mix of Bluey paraphernalia and hockey stuff. I make my way there, pausing outside the door. It’s only half closed, so I spot Sawyer sitting on the side of Jake’s bed, softly stroking his hair. He stays that way for several moments, watching his son sleep in the soft glow from the night light plugged into the wall by his bed, until I gently push the door open. It creaks a bit, and Sawyer turns, so I hold up the four leaf clover to him. He smiles and waves me in.

I set it on Jake’s dresser, where he’ll find it in the morning.

“Good night,” I mouth to Sawyer, then tiptoe back to my room.

After tugging on a pair of pajamas, I slip down the hall to brush my teeth and wash my face, then crawl into bed.

But as soon as I turn off the bedside light, the exhaustion I felt a moment ago seems to evaporate like mist. I’ve had a problem with insomnia ever since I was a teenager, so between that and the fact that it’s only my second night sleeping over as a live-in nanny in an unfamiliar setting, it shouldn’t be a surprise that I’m having a hard time sleeping.

That doesn’t make it any less frustrating though, especially when my body is exhausted and practically begging to sleep, but my brain just won’t let it.

I lie staring up at the pitch-black ceiling, listening to the pops and creaks of the house settling around me and hoping that sheer boredom will eventually make me pass out. But after tossing and turning for what feels like at least an hour, I remind myself that this is the last thing I’m supposed to do if I’m having trouble sleeping.

Sitting up, I throw the covers off.

I don’t want to be creeping around the house after everyone else has gone to sleep, but there’s truly nothing for me to do in this room, so I decide to go downstairs to fix myself a midnight snack. Maybe Sawyer has some books or magazines I can occupy myself with for a while. There’s a heavily loaded bookcase down in the living room, so I figure that’s as good a place to start as any.

Somehow, I make it downstairs without a sound, then pad to the kitchen and flip on the light. It’s a long shot, but since the ingredients are fairly common, I’m hoping that with a little boy in the house, Sawyer will have the stuff to make my favorite insomnia snack: ice cream with a cornflakes topping. But I’ll settle for a bowl of cornflakes and milk if that’s all he’s got.

I open the sliding freezer chest built into the bottom of the fridge and have to fight the urge to let out a sound of victory when I spot a tub of vanilla ice cream sitting right on top. I grab it and then head toward the cabinet where I know he keeps his dishware. I’m getting more familiar with the layout of the kitchen after making Jake a snack yesterday and some breakfast this morning, but I still have to hunt around a bit to find the ice cream scoop.

Once I do, I serve myself several scoops and return the ice cream to the freezer before searching for the next ingredient.

Fortunately, the cereal is easy enough to find in the large pantry, and Sawyer does have a small box of cornflakes. Once I’ve sprinkled a sufficient layer of them on top of the ice cream, I head for the bookcase in the living room to find something to read.

The shelves are mostly full of books about hockey. There are dense tomes about the history of the sport, some that look like old playbooks that are probably from Sawyer’s own games, and all kinds of biographies. That all makes perfect sense.

But what’s surprising is that there are just as many cookbooks and biographies of famous chefs, and that the two subjects seem to be perfectly divided on the shelves. On the left, hockey. On the right, cooking.

I would never have guessed that Sawyer would be so into cooking, but the more I think about it, the more it fits. He seems to enjoy taking care of people, and what better way to do that than with food?

A book about Julia Child catches my eye. I honestly don’t know much about her other than her general connection to French cuisine, but I’m intrigued, so I grab it and settle in on the couch to read.

I’m just about finished with my ice cream when I hear the floor above me creak. A few moments later, Sawyer pads down the stairs, shirtless and wearing a pair of gray sweats. My gaze immediately lands on his broad chest, dusted with a bit of dark hair, and the six pack— or, holy fuck, is that an eight pack? —beneath it.

I wrench my focus upward before it can travel any lower, since gray sweatpants leave almost nothing to the imagination and mine is already running way too wild. My gaze meets Sawyer’s in the dim light of the lamp beside the couch, and he grins when he sees me sprawled out on the couch with the book and my nearly empty bowl.

“Couldn’t sleep, huh?” he whispers.

“No. Sorry, I hope I didn’t wake you up.”

“Not at all. I just got up to check on Jake and saw that the light was on down here, so I figured I’d make sure everything’s okay. You good?”

I shrug and set the bowl down on the table. “Yeah, everything’s fine. I just couldn’t sleep. I’ve had insomnia every now and then ever since I was a teenager.”

“Well, I’m sure it isn’t easy to move into a stranger’s house and go right to sleep in an unfamiliar bed,” he says as he joins me, sitting on the opposite end of the couch. Close, but not too close. “What are you reading?”

“All about Julia Child.” I hold the book up so he can see it. “Did you know she used to work as a top-secret researcher for the Office of Strategic Services?”

He chuckles, resting one arm along the back of the couch. “I didn’t until I read that book. She’s amazing, isn’t she?”

“Beyond amazing. I had no idea. I thought she was just a TV chef.”

“Most people do, but she was so much more than that. Anyway, I’m glad you found something to eat. And something to read. I don’t have the most exciting library.” He makes a face as he gestures at the bookcase.

I can’t help grinning. “It’s definitely an odd combination, but it suits you.”

“Thanks. Oh, and thank you for bringing Jake to the game today. I didn’t get the chance to say that earlier, but it means a lot.”

“Of course.” I sigh softly, nestling back against the plush cushions of the couch. “God, that kid is so in love with you. He seriously wouldn’t stop talking about you the whole drive over to the game. It’s really sweet.”

Although Sawyer smiles, his face flushes. “Jake is far and away the best thing that came out of my marriage. I love him more than anything.”

“It shows.”

Our gazes hold for a moment, and the room falls silent. It lasts just long enough to make my heart beat a little faster, and then Sawyer’s eyes drop down to the bowl on the coffee table. He frowns, his brows drawing together. “What on earth is that?”

“Ice cream with cornflakes on top,” I answer, then burst out into quiet laughter when he shoots me a horrified look. “It’s delicious, seriously! Have you ever tried it?”

“Can’t say that I have.”

“It’s so good! The cornflakes are the perfect crunchy topping, and when the ice cream melts, it’s just like eating a bowl of cereal. Here, try some.” I scoop up a generous amount of what’s left and hold the spoon out to him.

“I’m good.” He holds up a hand, looking incredibly wary.

“Suit yourself. But you’re missing out,” I say and pop the spoon into my mouth.

“I’ll take your word for it.”

He settles back against the couch, his fingers drumming idly against the back cushion. I probably shouldn’t ask about this, but he mentioned his marriage… and now that I’m Jake’s nanny, it’s possible his ex and I will cross paths. Besides, my curiosity is getting the better of me, so I drop my spoon in my bowl.

“Can I ask about your ex?”

His eyes meet mine, and although he takes a second, he eventually shrugs. “Sure. What do you want to know?”

“I only met her the one time, years ago when I was here visiting. It seemed back then like you guys were doing pretty well. What happened?”

Sawyer sighs and shakes his head. “Miriam cheated on me.”

It’s a good thing I’ve finished chewing, otherwise I might have choked. Reese told me that Sawyer’s divorce was messy, but for whatever reason, I didn’t think it was because of something like that.

I wince. “I’m sorry. That really sucks.”

He shrugs again. “Thanks, but she was never the type who wanted a family anyway. She always wanted the prestige of being a hockey wife, but she was never interested in the responsibilities that come with marriage and a kid, so maybe I should’ve seen it coming.”

“Don’t beat yourself up. None of it was your fault.”

He scrubs his free hand over his jaw, which has a shadow of stubble on it. “That’s what everyone says, but I still find it hard to believe. I just keep thinking that maybe there was something more I could’ve done to make her happy.”

I shake my head, frowning. “Some people are bottomless wells. You can pour into them all you want, but they never fill up.”

Sawyer raises an eyebrow, looking a bit surprised. “Sounds like you might know a thing or two about what I’m talking about.”

Now it’s my turn to shrug. “I’ve had my fair share of bad experiences. But at some point, you realize you just have to put yourself first and do what you can to move forward.”

“Exactly.” He tips his head back, gazing at the ceiling. “I bought this house not long after we got married because it’s what she wanted, but I’ve been thinking of selling it and finding a new place. A place that’s right for Jake and me.”

“I mean, I’m not your financial advisor or anything, but I’d say do it,” I tell him instantly, and he laughs. “No, seriously. You only get one life, and it’s short, so you might as well be happy in it, you know? No sense in wasting it in a house you don’t like, surrounded by ghosts.”

“Mm.” Sawyer nods, his broad chest rising and falling with a deep breath. Once again, I have to wrench my gaze away from him, forcing myself not to study the perfectly crafted lines of his shoulders and abs. “That’s exactly what it feels like. Everywhere I look, I see her. I hate it.”

I bite my lip, glancing toward the stairs. “A fresh start might be nice for Jake. It’s got to be just as hard for him as it is for you.”

“Yeah. I’ve done everything I can to shield him from the worst of it, and for better or for worse, he was pretty young when his mom left. But I wish I could’ve spared him from the upheaval of it all. I’ve just been doing everything I can to keep us afloat since the divorce, you know? Just… existing. Going through the motions.”

“I know exactly what you mean.” My mind drifts back to Chicago and all the ghosts I left back there, but now isn’t the time to share that with him. We’re just starting this live-in nanny thing, and I don’t want to spoil it with my baggage, so I decide to change the subject.

“I know you were trying to give that woman at the bar the brush off, but have you, uh, taken other women up on their offers?”

Sawyer snorts. “No, not really. I’m just not interested.”

“Why not? She was young and gorgeous, and she clearly had the hots for you.”

“Well, for starters, she was way too young. And women like that aren’t really interested in dating me, they’re interested in the idea of dating me. They want the glitz and glam of being the trophy girl on a hockey player’s arm. They don’t want the reality of a divorced guy with a kid.”

He’s sadly probably not wrong about that, but I still find it hard to believe that one of Denver’s most eligible bachelors isn’t playing the field. I frown, crossing my legs on the couch and resting my forearms on my thighs. “You haven’t dated at all since the divorce?”

“Nope.” He purses his lips to one side. “I mean, the guys have tried to set me up, and I’ve gone to dinner a few times with some women that my teammates introduced me to, but I wouldn’t really call that dating.”

“Wow.” I let out a low whistle. “That’s shocking, honestly. I can’t believe it.”

Sawyer arches a brow at me, a half-smile playing at his lips. “Of course you can’t, heartbreaker. I’m sure you’ve got no shortage of men beating down your door.”

My heart stutters in my chest, skipping a beat before racing faster, and I ignore the way his words make a flutter erupt in my stomach, shaking my head dismissively and glancing away so that he won’t see the flush on my cheeks.

“You get points for flattery, but I wouldn’t say they’re exactly beating down my door. Not that I want them to,” I say with a huffed laugh. “Dating is the furthest thing from my mind right now.”

He nods, a look of understanding in his eyes. “Guess we’re both in dry spells right now.”

“Wait a second… does that mean you haven’t had sex since your divorce either?” I blurt suddenly, the thought popping into my head and past my lips before I can stop it. Then I realize what I just asked and slap a hand over my mouth. “I’m sorry. That’s really none of my business,” I murmur, my voice muffled. “You don’t have to answer.”

Thankfully, instead of looking offended, Sawyer chuckles. “It’s okay. We’re both grown-ups, and it’s a valid question. But, uh, how do I say this? I can take care of my needs just fine on my own. I’m not looking for another shot at love or marriage, and I don’t want to do anything to disrupt Jake’s life.” He clears his throat. “So if that means staying single and just… taking care of things myself, then that’s fine with me.”

I swallow hard. His long, thick fingers are brushing absently over the back cushion of the couch, and it takes all my willpower not to let my imagination conjure up an image of those same fingers wrapped around his cock. He’s a big guy, tall and broad-shouldered, and I have a feeling he’d be big everywhere .

Picking up my bowl, I quickly eat the last bite of my ice cream and cornflakes, trying to cool myself off and distract myself at the same time. As I set the spoon back in the bowl, I glance at Sawyer out of the corner of my eye, finding him watching me.

“That makes sense,” I say to fill the silence that’s fallen between us. “There’s nothing wrong with being on your own.”

“No, there isn’t.” His expression turns a bit pensive. “It’s lonely sometimes, but it’s a lot less complicated than being in love.”

“If I had a drink, I’d drink to that,” I murmur, and a grin splits his face as our gazes catch.

I wouldn’t have guessed it at the start of this, but I’m starting to feel like I have more in common with Sawyer than I expected. There’s a lot more to him than I ever realized from the few encounters we’ve had over the years. He’s stoic and serious, sure, but there’s a softness to him too. I’m not sure how I feel about that realization.

It feels… nice, like there’s an understanding between us that makes conversation flow easily. But it also feels a little terrifying, like realizing that the ground I thought I was standing on isn’t as stable as I thought. Because the more I see him as a fully human, real person, the harder it is to put him in the box of just my boss, or just my brother’s friend.

The silence that I broke a moment ago falls over us again, and I’m suddenly very aware of how close Sawyer’s hand is to me where it rests on the back of the couch. He’s still sitting a short distance away, but if he wanted to, he could reach out and…

And nothing .

Nothing, Violet.

Because you’re just the nanny who can’t seem to keep her foot out of her mouth, and he’s only been making conversation with you because you took over his living room in the middle of the night.

My shoulders stiffen a little as the voice in my head echoes between my ears. It has about the same effect as a bucket of cold ice water, and I lean back on the couch, glancing at the clock on the wall.

“I should try to get some sleep,” I say, closing the book and picking up my bowl. “Thanks for keeping me company for a little while.”

Sawyer nods. “Anytime.”

I quickly pad into the kitchen to stick my bowl in the dishwasher, then head back out to the living room. Sawyer is just rising from the couch, and he clicks off the living room lamp before following me up the stairs.

When we reach the second floor, I give him a small wave in the darkness before slipping into my room. I nestle under the covers, pulling them up tight to my chin, and do my best to slow my racing thoughts until I finally fall asleep.