It was such an unexpectedly tender moment that she felt tears mist her eyes. Maybe she should have let him hug her back then when she needed it most, except now she could clearly remember why she’d refused to let him pull her into his arms. It was because of this—the safety, the comfort, the longing that rose up inside of her at his touch. It was because these gentle arms had been too easy to fall into, and he’d been engaged to another woman. But that didn’t mean she hadn’t felt anything for him, and a hug like this one would have opened the emotional floodgates—the very last thing she needed on a slushy sidewalk in downtown Beaut.
Sawyer released her, and Olivia stepped back. She let out a shaky little sigh. The toddlers had opened a dresser drawer and were pulling out items of clothing, one at a time.
“Better?” she asked, forcing a smile.
“Yeah. I think so.” He met her gaze, a smile turning up the corners of his lips. “That’s the first hug of my life that didn’t come from one of my daughters, as far as I can remember.”
“That isn’t the first adult hug of your life,” she said, shaking her head. She personally remembered several—the kind that had woken up a part of her that she knew was best left dormant.
“It is today.” His voice was low and warm.
“Okay. I’ll give you that.”
Sawyer shot her a grin, then headed over to the girls and picked up a little shirt, folded it neatly and replaced it in the drawer. As soon as it went inside, Lizzie grabbed it back out, and Bella let out a tinkle of laughter. Sawyer picked up the entire pile and dumped it unfolded into the drawer, then scooped up the girls, one in each arm. He pushed the drawer shut with his foot and turned back toward Olivia.
“We should eat,” he said.
“Yes, we should.”
That hug had left a warm feeling around her—the kind that could tip an entire day. Sawyer couldn’t remember why they’d stopped hugging each other, but she did. There were some things that were best saved for romance—like the kinds of hugs that melted all of Olivia’s carefully constructed walls.
When Sawyer had Mia, those no-touching rules in their relationship were a whole lot easier to manage. But Mia was gone now, and Olivia and Sawyer were both single. She’d never told him what his gentle squeezes did to her heart, and she’d vowed to never enlighten him on the matter.
But to not remember ever having been hugged...that was heartbreaking, too.
She’d simply have to keep her heart secure while Sawyer found himself again. The last thing she needed was to fall for Sawyer just in time for him to remember all the reasons they’d never worked.
Later that morning, Sawyer followed Lloyd’s pickup, keeping a safe distance back as they rumbled through the back roads. Lloyd knew how to get to the little country church, and Sawyer didn’t. If he lost Lloyd, Olivia could probably direct him there, but it was the man in him that wanted to do this without her help.
These turns were confusing, but he watched carefully all the same, hoping to have a sense of the next turn before Lloyd’s blinker started up. So far, nada.
He’d asked Lloyd about his church attendance before they left, and Lloyd had scuffed his boot in the dirt a bit and shrugged sheepishly.
“It’s a chance at a fresh start, Sawyer. Church never hurt.”
And maybe Lloyd had a point there.
In the back seat, the girls were babbling to each other, and Olivia sat next to him wearing her “one and only dress” that she’d brought along—a calf-length cream-colored dress that made her cheeks look a little pinker and her eyes that much warmer by contrast. She smelled good—like lilacs. She’d wrapped a floral patterned shawl around her, and he noticed her slim shoulders... He was glad that she looked decidedly different from that memory in the snowy street. He needed that—for her to be stronger now, brighter, further away from that heartbreaking day.
“Is any of this familiar?” Olivia asked.
“Nope.”
He couldn’t banish the guilt that he hadn’t remembered Mia yet, either. He’d been her husband—it felt like a betrayal of sorts to have no memories of her. But at least a couple of things had started to resurface, and maybe his memories with Mia would come next.
Ahead, Lloyd signaled another turn and slowed. Sawyer followed suit and clicked on his blinker. As they eased around the corner, he could see a little white church ahead with a steeple.
He had that memory of the little wood-paneled room where Mrs. Willoughby had taught him Sunday school, but this church wasn’t familiar at all. It was frustrating—so many memories just on the edge of where he could reach them.
He pulled into the parking lot, and there was something about that view as his truck eased over the crest of a bump—the church, the open doors, the sunlight splashing across the steps. It sparked something. It started with a feeling of familiarity, and then he got a flash of hands reaching out to shake his. He was wearing a black suit—he remembered that. But he hadn’t seen a black suit in his closet earlier today when he was trying to find something to wear to church.
“Something happened here,” he said, his heart speeding up.
Olivia didn’t answer, but when he glanced toward her, she was looking at him with a strained expression on her
