“You came down here to make us all miserable instead?”
Levi chuckles, grabbing a second slice and demolishing it just as quickly as the first. “No. I came to see Boone and Rosie, watch your game, and see Sawyer.”
“I heard you the first time,” I grumble.
“Well, it sure as shit seems like you didn’t.”
And just like that—like she’s got some kind of radar for her uncle—Sawyer barrels down the stairs like a tiny tornado, her footsteps thundering through the house as she tears into the kitchen.
“Uncle Levi!” she squeals, launching herself at him. Levi barely has time to catch her before she’s in his arms, clinging to him like a koala and then letting go just as fast as if she’s embarrassed that she wanted a hug. When did hugs become embarrassing? She’s growing up too fast.
“How’s my favorite, little niece?” My brother’s tone softens.
She beams up at him, pure joy radiating from her face. “You can’t call me that anymore. I’m not a baby.”
He grins. “I know. Heard you grew another inch.”
She straightens up like she’s showing off. She’s gotten taller too. Another thing I’ve been too busy to take the time to notice properly. Her smile falters when her eyes scan the mostly empty kitchen. “Hey, where’s Bri?”
“Your dad kicked her out,” Levi says, grinning like the asshole he is.
I roll my eyes. “I didn’t kick her out. She had to go home. She has a life that doesn’t include us, Sawyer.”
“I thought we were her life,” Sawyer jokes, her grin returning as Levi pats her affectionately on the head.
“She’s getting funny. I know she got that from hanging around the new nanny and not you,” Levi quips, his grin widening as he throws me a knowing look.
“Sit down and eat,” I mutter, ignoring him because if he thinks he’s going to blow into town and hit on Bri, he’s wrong. “Then go finish your homework and get to bed. Your flight leaves at nine tomorrow, right?”
Sawyer nods, her smile dimming a little, but she doesn’t argue. She slips out of Levi’s arms and rounds the counter, her small arms wrapping around my waist before I even register what’s happening. I freeze as soon as she squeezes me. Because this hug is completely unexpected.
When she was younger, I used to love hugging her, holding her close, soaking up every moment I could before she grew up and it felt like she outgrew me one day. Something’s shifted over the last two years. She’s started pulling away. Stopped liking affection as much. Started getting embarrassed when I use baby talk or hug her for a little too long in public. So, I’ve backed off. I’ve given her space, respected her boundaries even though it kills me a little every time she shrugs me off.
But right now, she’s hugging me. And I’m not going to ask questions about it.
My arms finally move, wrapping around her gently, pulling her close as I breathe her in. She smells like shampoo and bubblegum lip gloss, and for a moment, I let myself just be in this moment, soaking up the love of my daughter.
“Love you, Spirit,” I murmur softly, my lips brushing over the top of her head as I use the nickname her mom and I gave her. From the moment she was born, she was so full of life, joy andspirit. We called her spirit because she felt like a part of ours.And when her mom passed away, Sawyer became the only piece of her spirit that lived on. The only piece left of mine, too.
“Love you too, Daddy.”
And just like that, the ache in my chest loosens. A part of me wonders if this display of affection has anything to do with Brianna. The woman who clearly has no problem showing physical affection to the people in her life. Because ever since she entered our world, something’s shifted in this family.
“Thanks for the pizza, Dad.”
I glance up and catch Levi watching us, his mouth twitches.
“I’m sorry I won’t be at your game tomorrow. You know I would be if I could,” I tell her.
“It’s okay. I’m not starting anyway.” She squeezes me tighter, but I can hear the disappointment laced through her voice.
It guts me because I understand that feeling well.
“But Bri and I practiced my digs in the backyard when we got home, and she said I’m getting better. She fixed my form with my serves too and said she’s confident that even if I don’t get playing time tomorrow, I’ll start at some point this season.”
She pulls back, and I meet her gaze—eyes that look like mine but lips that belong to her late mother.
“That’s the right attitude. Keep that up, and you’ll be good. First home game you have, I’ll be there in the front row.”
