Coast Guard Sweetheart (14 page)

Chapter Fifteen

H
oney's heart accelerated at his words. Her eyes drifted to the blue vase of ditch daises on the windowsill. If what he'd said was true, she and Sawyer weren't that different in the way they coped with life's wounds.

Except she coped alone. And Sawyer had found a God who'd promised to never forsake him.

Her strategy involved keeping everyone at arm's length behind the veneer of her invincible hospitality. The always in control Hostess with the Mostest. And her strategy had worked so well. Until a certain cowboy Coastie sailed back into her life.

She bit her lip. “What was the verse you were reading in the truck?”

He avoided her gaze. “You mean before I fell asleep?”

“It appeared well-worn to that spot in your Bible.”

Sawyer propped his elbows on the countertop and hunched over the plate. “Sometimes I forget that verse is meant for me, too. So I have to read it over and over. I get enormous peace from that verse.”

Hoping he'd trust her with another piece of his heart, she held her breath. Baby steps. Patience. Neither of them—
God help them both
—were the trusting sort.

He scrunched the aluminum foil into a ball. “It's from Romans.”

She exhaled.

He took a jump shot into the oversized construction trashcan. “‘Therefore there is no condemnation for those in Christ Jesus.'”

Condemnation. Her chest tightened. Is that what he felt from her? She'd no right to judge Sawyer. She was only just beginning to understand the challenges he'd faced in his life.

Her cell phone rang. She fished it out of her jean pocket and read the text. “Oh, no.”

“What's wrong?”

“It's from Braeden. Amelia's in labor again. They're at Riverside.”

Sawyer frowned. “Is it still too early? Are she and the baby okay?”

“It's Max Braeden's worried about. I need to go to Riverside and take care of Max while Braeden's with Amelia. Dad's stuck in Salisbury on a supply run with one of the ROMEOs.”

Sawyer tossed the paper plate and plastic utensils in the trashcan. “I'll drive you.”

“You don't have—”

“Max and I are buddies.” The hinges of the screen door squeaked as he held it for Honey. “Besides, I want to be there for him—and for you.”

“Thank you.” Her mouth trembled. “I don't feel quite up to making the trek alone anyway.”

She waited in his truck while he did a quick check to make sure the doors were secure. He slid behind the wheel. “Don't worry. Max will be okay.” He steered the Chevy toward the hospital at Nassawadox.

Honey gripped the armrest. “The hospital holds bad memories for Max. It's where he endured so much pain during the fight to save his life from the leukemia.”

“We'll both be there for him.”

She massaged her throbbing temples. “This baby has brought out insecurities in Max none of us suspected. He thinks once the baby arrives, Braeden and Amelia won't love him anymore. Silly, I know, but—”

“Not so silly.” Sawyer's mouth flattened. “He feels alone and he's scared. He needs to know he's deeply loved.”

Sawyer's eyes cut across the cab to her and then onto the road. “I know about feeling scared and alone.”

Honey looked at him for a long moment. Seeing him. Feeling the deep, understated hurts in his soul.

“I'm guessing you would,” she whispered.

* * *

The bright florescent lights and pungent antiseptic smells hit Honey as soon as the hospital doors slid open. They found Max in the care of a nurse in the waiting room. Hunkered in an armchair, his feet dangled, not quite long enough to touch the floor.

Sawyer strode forward. “Max.”

The little boy shot out of the chair. Bypassing Honey, he flew in a straight trajectory to Sawyer.

Sawyer went down on one knee and opened his arms. With a small cry, Max's arms went around Sawyer's neck. Sawyer enfolded the child in his embrace.

Honey brushed her hand across Max's cheek. Max loosened his hold on Sawyer and dragged her into the circle of their embrace. “It's going to be okay.” She rubbed Max's back. “We're here now.”

“I want my Mimi,” Max whispered. “'Spose the baby kills her like I...?” He buried his face in Sawyer's shirt.

“That's not true, Max.” She cradled the crown of Max's head. “Is that what this has been about?”

Sawyer lugged the three of them over to the sofa. “You didn't kill your mother. That's not what happened.”

“You don't know, Sawyer,” Max sobbed. “You weren't there.”

She touched his cheek. “But I was, Max. I was here in this very room the day you were born.”

Max lifted his head. His eyes, like twin blueberries, swam with tears. “You were here?”

Honey nodded. “It was a drunk driver who killed your mom. Never you. Because Lindi loved you so much, she hung on so she could give you life. You are Lindi's last, most precious gift to us. She loved you. Mimi loves you. We all love you. And nothing and no one will ever change who you are to us.”

Sawyer caught Max's chin between his thumb and forefinger. “Remember what you said the day after the storm? God made a way for Mimi to be your forever mom and for Braeden to become your dad. God's love is like that, too. His love doesn't decrease with every person born. It becomes more. And so it will be with Braeden and Mimi. I've learned if you open your heart, the love you give will flow right back to you. Even stronger.”

Opening your heart. That was the trick, wasn't it? Trusting. Believing in a love like that. Whether in the love of God or in the love of an erstwhile Coastie.

The anger was far safer. She couldn't risk anything more. Not and retain control of her emotions. As long as she had her family, her house and her business, she'd be fine. She so didn't need the complication of a Coastie in her life.

A nurse entered the waiting area distracting Honey. “It's a boy.”

They rose as one.

“And my sister? Is she okay?”

Max slid from Sawyer's arms. “Mimi?”

The nurse gestured to the hallway. “Mother and child are doing great. If you'd like a sneak peek at the baby, they're bringing him into the nursery for a few minutes while your sister is settled into a permanent room.”

She squatted to Max's level. “You can visit your Mimi soon.” The nurse patted Max's cheek. “What a great big brother you're going to be.”

Honey took Max's hand. The three of them followed the nurse down the long corridor to a glass-banked window. Bassinets lined the nursery. Filled with tiny, squirming, squalling, puckered, red-faced infants.

Pink or blue caps. Family names identified the bundles of joy. Colonna. Turner. Scott.

Max crinkled his nose. Although the noise was muted through the glass, the cacophony on the other side was almost visceral. “He looks loud.”

Her lips twitched. “Then you'll be a matched pair. 'Cause you're loud, too, Max.”

Max studied the baby. “Why's he wrapped up like a burrito?”

Sawyer laughed.

“Hey, Max.”

They turned at the sound of the little redheaded girl's voice. Honey tensed. Whenever these two crossed paths, there were fireworks. She and Sawyer exchanged dubious glances.

The little girl sidled next to Max and pressed her nose against the glass. “Which one is yours?”

Max pointed.

Shoulder-to-shoulder with him, the little girl sighed. “You're so lucky.” A wistful note entered in her voice. “I wish I had a baby.”

Max turned his head from his contemplation of the baby and stared at her.

She kept her eyes riveted on the brawling mass of tiny humanity on the other side of the glass. “You're going to be the best big brother ever.”

Max's shoulders broadened. “Yes.” His chest puffed out. “I am.”

“Izzie...” Weston Clark hurried along the corridor. “I've been looking everywhere for you.”

The little girl—Isabelle Clark—huddled closer to the window.

He glanced apologetically at Honey. “I'm so sorry, Miss Duer. I hope Izzie hasn't been intrusive. I was visiting a neighbor on the next ward over and she got away from me.”

She patted Izzie's shoulder. “No problem. She and Max were just visiting his new baby brother.”

Weston Clark's eyes darted around the white-walled hallway as if expecting structural breaches. Sawyer went into regulation stance. “Commander Clark, sir.”

Clark shook his head. “Not in the service any more, Petty Officer. No need for protocol. I'm a Kiptohanock citizen now.” He glanced at his daughter. “And Izzie's father full-time.” He held out his hand. “Time to go home, Izzie.”

Izzie molded her lips to the glass and blew a kiss at the babies, leaving a wet imprint of her mouth. “Bye, Max,” she whispered and slipped her hand into her father's.

Max waved. “Bye, Izzie.”

Braeden passed the Clarks and caught Max in his arms. “Hey, son. I've missed you.”

Max peered over Braeden's shoulder into the nursery. “What's the new kid's name?”

Sawyer laughed.

Honey play-slapped his arm. “Don't encourage him.”

“We're going to call him Patrick.” Braeden's gaze flicked to Honey. “Patrick Jordan Scott.”

Her eyes watered. “Oh, Braeden. That's so kind of you.”

Jordan—for Amelia's deceased fiancé, also Coast Guard, and Pauline Crockett's son.

Braeden swallowed. “Miss Pauline has been good to us. And her son loved Amelia.” A sheen gathered in his eyes. “I got the girl and an entire future with her. A small thing to do in his memory.”

Honey tilted her head. “Not small. And I'm thinking if the baby were a girl, my dear big sis wouldn't be suggesting you call her Carly after
your
former fiancée.”

Braeden grinned and dashed the moisture from his eyes. “And rightly so. A noose I escaped just in time.” He planted a hand on Max's shoulder. “Mimi can't wait to see you.”

Max jabbed his finger at the glass and Baby Scott. “Is he going to be there, too?”

Braeden exchanged looks with Honey. “We thought maybe you'd like to spend time with us alone...before...”

Max frowned. “I don't think my baby likes it in there with those screaming fish faces.”

Braeden's eyebrows lifted.
My baby?
he mouthed.

She and Sawyer shrugged.

“I got a lot to teach the baby before I grow up.”

“Like?” Braeden prompted.

“Like how to find the best sea glass. Like how to cut bait for Granddad.” Max's shoulders rose and fell. “Like how to go clamming and a hundred million trillion other fun stuff.”

“There'll be plenty of time for it all.” Braeden urged Max away from the window. He stopped in front of Honey and Sawyer. “Thanks, you two, for being here for all of us.”

Sawyer smiled. “No problem.”

Max tugged on Braeden's shirt. “P.J. looks like you, Dad.”

“P.J.?”

Max nodded. “Peanut butter and jelly.”

Braeden made a valiant attempt not to laugh. Sawyer didn't even try to hold back. She punched him again.

Honey took another look into the nursery. Max was right. Dark fuzz peeked from underneath the blue stocking cap. And when Patrick Jordan Scott wasn't bawling with his eyes screwed shut, they appeared a dark navy blue, which she guessed would turn into brown like Braeden's.

Braeden ruffled Max's hair. “He does. But you know how I've always loved redheads, son.”

Max smiled for the first time and blew a breath between his lips. “Yeah, that's right.”

He took Braeden's hand and pulled him forward. “And I'm going to be the best big brother in the world.”

Watching them disappear into an elevator, she swiped at her eyes. But a desolation on Sawyer's face stabbed at her heart. She touched his arm. “What's wrong?”

“Nothing.” He shook her off. “I think the really blessed one is Patrick Jordan Scott. Not everyone gets a great big brother like Max.” He cleared the hoarseness from his throat.

The way he said it...

“Do you have a big brother, Sawyer?”

Sawyer's mouth tightened. “Closest I've ever come to a big brother is Braeden. I made a lousy big brother myself.”

Her eyes widened. “You have a—?”

“Did have a sister.” He grimaced. “And like everything else in my life, including you, I ruined that, too.”

The pain in his eyes stole her breath.

“Everything I touch, I ruin.”

“Sawyer, that's not—”

“Come on.” He strode down the hallway. “I'll make sure you get home.”

But her father met them in the hospital lobby, and Sawyer went to wherever it was he kept himself in his off duty hours alone. Staring at his hunched shoulders as he disappeared into the darkened parking lot, she suspected he'd spent far too much of his life exactly the same—alone.

And that thought made her heart ache to rush after him.

It had gutted her to hear him describe in such a studied nonchalance the life he'd endured as a boy. And what he hadn't bothered to voice—what his home life must have been like prior to coming under the care of Child Protective Services. She quaked to think of the fear and vulnerability ten-year-old Sawyer had experienced every time he was yanked from one foster home into another.

No wonder he'd learned to live in the moment, to yearn for the eight-second thrill or the adrenaline-packed life of a Coastie. Now was all he knew, all he ever dared hope for. She hadn't realized he'd been about the same age as she when her mother died.

But oh, the stark differences beyond that one similarity. She'd had her dad and Amelia to carry her through. He'd had no one, only himself to rely upon. She began to understand Sawyer believed he dared not reach for more. Worse still, that he didn't deserve more.