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“Sawyer told me three days ago that if you fell off your bike while not wearing a helmet, your head would split open like a pumpkin. You’d probably die or have a serious brain injury. You’re too precious for that to happen, so I’ve put aside my rebellion of rules, and I’ve decided you must wear your helmet from now on.”
“When did you see him?” Why had he said that? Sawyer didn’t care about her… did he?
“He came here with that sweet little niece of his on a school trip. We talked to the kids about recycling and showed them the bees. Each got to take home a seedling of their choice in a yogurt container.”
Right. Birdie had been working but had wanted to be here to see him, which was a good thing she hadn’t been. Especially now that she’d made the break between them. Was it a break when it had been nothing but sex?
“He told your father to fix the lock on the cottage front door too and that there was a screw under your dining table that needed attention.”
“Ah… he said all that?” Birdie battled the flush of heat at her mother’s words. She’d hurt her head on that screw the night Sawyer had walked into her cottage while she’d been talking dirty to Murray.
“When was he inside the cottage, and how did he know about the screw?”
“He came to drop the timber and knocked on my door when you weren’t home. I-ah, I’d been under the table with Woodrow and hurt myself standing. There was blood. He asked why.” She’d said the words so fast her mother was frowning.
“Birdie?”
“Yes, Mom.”
“Do you and Sawyer Duke have feelings for each other? Your father and I thought maybe you did, and then there’s the talk in town—”
“No!”
“That’s a very loud denial, sweetie.”
Meadow McAllister might come across a little scatter-brained, but where her children were concerned, she was good at seeing when something was off. Many times, her brothers or sister would get a call in the early hours of the morning because she’d had a feeling, which was most often right.
“What’s wrong, sweetie?”
“N-nothing.” Damn it, she was going to cry. “I have to go, Mom.”
“You are not going anywhere. Sit at once.” That voice didn’t come out very often, as her mother liked to be calm and in a Zen-like state usually. But when it did, her children reacted.
“Do we have any of those crumbed cauliflower bites left, Meadow?” Her father appeared before Birdie could move or speak. “What’s going on?” he said, looking from Birdie to his wife, clearly sensing tension in the room.
“Our little bird is upset, Hamish.”
“No, I’m fine. It’s just that Sawyer and I… we’re not, and I didn’t think I wanted to be… but now I do, and he doesn’t.” Birdie gulped in a breath. “I need to go away for a while.”
“Sit now, sweetie,” Meadow said. “Let me calm you.”
“I really don’t need—”
“Sit,” her father said, coming toward her. He placed a hand on her shoulder and nudged her down into a seat.
Her mother’s hands were then in her hair, massaging her scalp. Her father took her hand and pulled a seat close. Suddenly, she was boxed in by her parents.
“Birdie, it is time for you to fly,” her father said, giving her an intent look, which in itself was a shock. He was never assertive or intent. “Your mother and I have thought this for a while but understood that you felt you needed to stay. That fear held you here.”
“Not just fear, Dad.”
“The bills.” He sighed. “We have let you shoulder too much, and that is on us. But now, little bird, it’s your time. The bills are paid.”
“By whom?” Birdie whispered.
“The universe has provided. Do not question that, sweetie,” her mother said. She then found a tense spot in Birdie’s neck that had her yelping.
“I-I think I’m going to stay with Blue Jay,” Birdie said while her mother continued to hit pressure points in her head.
