It's all *cricket chirp; cough; wolf howl* around here... Chapter 4
Later that afternoon, Sawyer was sent out on a diaper run. Kate was disgruntled that he could never get the size right and this was his third time going back to the store. He stopped along the way for gas and to replenish the pack of cigarettes he'd finished between the three trips, though truthfully, he was just thankful to have the solitude of his truck for a while. Kate had been moody all day, likely due to the lack of sleep and stress of Mason's teething. Claire's suggestion of a teething ring didn't work and Charlie's suggestion from the background of the phone call of using a few drops of alcohol just angered both women. Sawyer decided maybe the Brit wasn't as bad as he thought.
He still hadn't gotten an answer to his question from the morning out of Kate. But he planned on finding a way later in the night when Mason was asleep. Still, he couldn't shake the feeling that it was just a projection of something much bigger tugging at the back of her mind. Maybe it was just his imagination. He hoped it was. After everything that had happened in the past few years, he could use a break. If a teething baby was the hardest thing they had to get through for a while it would be a blessing.
Sawyer stopped briefly at The Parlor before heading home. Knowing that cooking an actual meal was becoming a rarity these days, he figured he would get some food to take home. He chatted with Cassie while he waited, updating her on their life. Until she asked, he'd completely forgotten about Mackenzie. He told her he guessed the cat was okay, even though he didn't remember seeing him too recently. Cassie thought maybe the baby's crying scared him off. Sawyer held no convictions. When the food was done, he and his friend parted ways and he set off home.
He walked into the house and threw his keys on the mantle, along with his cigarettes. The house looked empty but Mason's crying echoed. He called Kate's name but got no response. He forced his fear to turn to anger as he stomped up the stairs to the nursery. He found Mason in his crib sobbing, half-chokingly. His face was beet red and tear stained. Sawyer picked his son up, trying to shh him.
"Easy, big guy. You're all right," he said, softly.
The baby calmed down almost instantly. For a moment, Sawyer was annoyed that he was cursed with having a calming effect with babies. Wasn't his idea of fair. But he let it go, and his eyebrows furrowed as he grew concerned as to why Kate wasn't there. He looked around the nursery, worriedly, then back down at Mason. Mason looked back up at him, eyes wet and wide. One thing at a time, he figured.
Sawyer saw a bottle of formula sitting on the dresser and picked it up on his way to sit in the white rocking chair Charlie and Claire had given them. Claire had claimed that Aaron had loved to be rocked when he was an infant and it could have the same effect on Mason. Sawyer had no intentions of ever sitting in it but for some reason fate was always a fickle bitch to him. Fate must've been a woman, he decided.
He cradled Mason and let him drink the formula, while he contemplated what to do next. It was eerily silent for a while, except for Mason's sporadic whining in pain.
"How did you know?" Kate startled him.
He looked up at her for a moment, then back down at Mason as he answered, "I didn't. I guessed."
Her eyes were as puffy as Mason's and her expression even wearier. Her curls were a wild mess around her wet reddened face and her arms were hugged close against her.
"Thought you didn't wanna let him cry it out," he said, his anger slowly growing again.
"I didn't," she spoke softly, her voice wavering.
"Well he was crying bloody murder, when I got here."
"You're gonna wake him if you get any louder," she nodded her head forward.
He looked down at the sleeping baby in his arms. Annoyed that she was right, he got up and put the bottle back on the dresser and Mason into his crib. Kate disappeared again. He stepped out and closed the door behind him. He saw Kate across the way sitting on their bed, gripping the edges, and let his anger become full blown by the time he walked in the room.
"Where the hell were you?"
"Here," she looked down at the floor. "I was here."
"Doing what?"
She shook her head, fighting back tears. "He wouldn't stop crying. I couldn't - "
"So you just left him?"
"I didn't know what to do, Sawyer. I'm not you!"
"What the hell are you talking about?"
She closed her eyes, finally losing her grip. The tears began to fall. "I can'tdo this."
"Can't do what?" he asked incredulously.
"I don't know what to do with him," she cried, her eyes flying open. "I feel like nothing I do is right!"
"So you just walked away?"
"I'm scared, Sawyer. I'm no good at this!"
"I'm no expert either, Freckles." He sat beside her now, his anger subsiding. "Hell, I don't know anymore than you do what I'm doing with him."
"You're better than I am," she laughed. "How's that for irony?"
"You're kiddin' yourself, Freckles."
"You know what my first instinct is every time he cries?"
"Whiskey?" he teased.
She closed her eyes, smiling, but it faded quickly. "I wanna run."
Sawyer said nothing, but raised his eyebrows at the ground, not surprised.
"I wanted to today," she said quietly. "I almost packed a bag."
"Why didn't you?"
"I don't know," she shook her head. "I'm not cut out to be a mother."
"Oh, and I am?" He bowed his head, slightly. "You know what I mean."
"I don't want to mess up," she said softly, her voice full of tears. "I don't want to be the reason he doesn't turn out right."
"Sweetheart, he's got two ex-cons for parents. If he doesn't turn out right, no one'd be surprised."
She laughed. "That's not funny."
"Yeah, it is. A little." He wiped the tears from her face. "He doesn't need to know who we were, Freckles."
"How do I stop wanting to run?"
"You won't. It's who you are."
"Shockingly, not helping," she half-sobbed, half-laughed.
"Well, you want the truth or you want me to spin some crap about rainbows and unicorns?"
She stared at him, searching his eyes for the answer but she already knew it. He was right. She wouldn't stop feeling the need to run. It was who she was. She nodded.
"The truth."
"Well in that case..." he smirked, "The next time you try to yell at me about the whiskey I'm gonna throw in your face how you wanted to run away."
"That's not fair," she laughed, brushing her knees off to get up.
"Oh, it's more than fair," he got up too. "In fact, what you did is worse, sweet cheeks."
"Not true," she said over her shoulder as she waked through the doorway.
Catching her off guard, Sawyer grabbed her waist from behind. He scooped her up and brought her back to the bed, despite her protesting, and kicked the door shut behind him.
"He'll wake up!"
"So we'll do it your way," he looked down at her, smiling smugly. "Let him cry."
"Bastard," she muttered just before his lips devoured hers.
