He poured himself a cup of the coffee Maddie had thoughtfully made, the silence in the house bugging him. It was too quiet. He used to like the quiet, grateful that Moose wasn’t much of a barker unless he was alerting. But since two tiny humans had come into his life, his and Maddie’s lives, their cries and shrieks had come to sound like music to him. He liked caring for them, figuring out their needs and meeting them. There was something satisfying about it.
Because of what Maddie had theorized—and it was just that, a theory—about being able to handle the thought of taking on the twins permanently because he had the buffer of uncle?
Maybe.
He didn’t really want to think about that, so he took the stairs two at a time, showered, dressed in his uniform and drove to the PD. He conquered the mound of paperwork in his inbox, went out on a call with his rookie, Mobley, and strategized on a difficult case with sergeant Theo Stark.
He glanced at Theo’s desk, the attached four photo frames containing pictures of his quadruplet toddlers, Tyler, Henry, Ethan and Olivia. Last Christmas, Theo had shocked everyone by the fact that he wasn’t dead, after all. Supposedly killed in an explosion on the job, he’d faked his death to protect his wife, who’d been threatened by the mobster he’d been after. Theo had had no idea his wife had been pregnant with quads—and when he finally came back, they were barely a year old. The man Sawyer had known then had lived and breathed his job, taking the most dangerous cases, but he’d given all that up to devote himself more fully to his family. Sawyer hadn’t been the chief back then; he’d been promoted when the former chief had retired soon after, so he didn’t know all the personal details. But Theo had gone from a guy he’d call a real lone wolf to a family man. And Sawyer wanted to know how. He and Theo were around the same age, and he’d always sensed a kindred spirit in the guy.
“Did you always want a big family, Stark?” Sawyer asked, his gaze on the photos.
Theo laughed. “I didn’t want a family at all. But one was waiting for me when I finally came home. I had no idea how great it is.”
“Kids?”
“The whole thing. A family. My wife—Allie. The quads. Sunday dinner with her family. Toddler classes. Nap time. Bath time. Story time. Colds and skinned knees. Sibling rivalry. I love it all. End of the day, I can’t wait to get home to all that.”
Sawyer raised an eyebrow. “What changed for you?”
“I guess I was hanging on to some baggage like a lot of people do. The quads forced my hand in letting go. My wife helped too.” He smiled. “I was an idiot for a long time. I’m glad I’m not anymore.”
Huh. He glanced at the photos again. He recalled hearing that the quads had been named for Theo—each one taking an initial. Tyler, Henry, Ethan, Olivia. That had choked up quite a few of them when they’d first learned Allie Stark was expecting quads and was going to name them after the “fallen” officer. He thought about Cole filling out the birth certificate application and deciding to name the babies after him and Maddie. He knew that meant a lot, but now that he really thought about it, he got kind of choked up himself.
“Things going okay with watching your brother’s newborns?” Theo asked. “I’m full of tips if you need any.”
“Thanks. I have to say, things are going better than I thought. You just do what needs to be done, and sometimes it’s that easy.”
Theo nodded. “Exactly. And plus, those little sneaks steal your heart without you even realizing it. One day, you just realize you’re completely controlled by your devotion to people who weigh less than thirty pounds.”
Sawyer laughed. “Or in my case, less than fifteen pounds combined.”
“Happens that fast,” Theo said with a smile. His phone rang, so Sawyer headed back to his desk.
His own phone pinged with a text. Jenna invited Maddie and the twins over, so she was skipping shopping today and would see him at home later.
He frowned. He wanted to be with her right now. Wanted to see the twins, hold them.
She pinged back a second later.
Oh, you know what I was thinking? Wouldn’t it be nice if you talked to Cole about volunteering at the community center with you? You could spend some time with him, and he could spend some time around kids. Win-win.
Except that Sawyer and Cole couldn’t seem to be in each other’s company for more than ten minutes without biting each other’s heads off. And Cole—volunteering? He couldn’t see it.
He glanced at the time. Four thirty. He needed to be at the community center at five for his shift. He thought about Jake Russtower, and how Sawyer had told him they had a lot in common. He also thought about Jake asking him one day if he and his own half brother were close, and Sawyer having to say no, that they barely spoke, let alone got along.
Maybe if he and Cole volunteered together, it would say something to Jake, show him something. And maybe he and Cole would have something else in common besides a rocky history.
Score a zillion for Maddie.
He pulled out his phone and texted Cole with the info.
Interested? he added.
I guess, Cole texted back. Predictably. He always guessed.
Jeez, lighten up on him, will ya? he heard Maddie say inside his head.
Which made him smile. What he would do without Maddie he really didn’t know. Didn’t want to know.
Okay, I can be there by 5:15, Cole wrote back.
See you then, Sawyer texted and put his phone back into his pocket.
So they’d volunteer together, then Cole would come home with him for dinner. That was a long stretch of time. Without Maddie to run interference.
Chapter Twelve
“Want to shoot some hoops?” Sawyer asked as he walked over to where Jake sat on the bleachers—alone again. The boy wore a gray hoodie and dark jeans, his mop of reddish-brown hair falling into his eyes.
“No.” Jake stared straight ahead.
Sawyer sat down beside him. “Something on your mind?”
Jake shrugged. Sawyer knew that classic move well. It said, Yes, but talking about it is hard for me.
“I’m not great at basketball, but I’ve been told I’m a good listener.” He kept his gaze straight ahead instead of crowding the boy by looking at him.
Jake frowned and crossed his arms over his chest. “My dad said we’d go ice fishing—just the two of us. He promised that we would the first weekend of Christmas break. And now we’re not going.”
“He tell you why?”
“Because of ‘the baby,’” he said in a singsong voice. “The baby, everything’s about ‘the baby.’ Of course Amy doesn’t want to take care of the brat by herself, so now my dad said we can’t go.”
Jake looked equal parts angry and hurt.
“I understand why you’re upset,” Sawyer said. “Yeah, having a new baby kind of takes over for a little while. I know because I’m watching my brother’s newborns for a bit. My life is definitely not my own.”
Jake chewed his bottom lip and glanced at him. “Well, I’m sure if you wanted to take your kid ice fishing like you promised, your wife wouldn’t make you cancel on him.”
“I don’t have any kids of my own, actually.”
“So forget it,” Jake said, rolling his eyes. “You don’t even know what I’m talking about.”
“What are we talking about?” a voice asked.
Sawyer turned around to find Cole standing there, dressed in jeans and his leather jacket. He nodded at Cole.
“Jake, this is my brother, Cole. I was telling you about him the other day. He’s five years younger than I am.”
“We have the same father, different mothers,” Cole said. “Except Sawyer’s the only one who got the father.”
Sawyer was about to shoot Cole a look that said, Really? That’s appropriate? But Cole’s comment did serve the purpose of perking Jake ri
ght up.
“Why?” Jake asked, sitting up straighter and tilting his head.
Cole put a foot up on the bleacher and stretched his calf muscle, then repeated with the other leg. “Our dad didn’t want a second kid. One was enough. Sawyer broke the mold, I guess.”
Sawyer shook his head. He was hardly the favorite. “Yeah right. Dad barely paid attention to me.”
“You still grew up with him,” Cole said.
“So, your dad stuck with the older kid and ignored the new one,” Jake said, his dark eyes lighting up. “Interesting. Maybe there’s hope for me.”
“Oh, thanks,” Cole said with a lazy grin. “So are we gonna stand around talking about unpleasant crud or are we going to shoot the ball?”
Jake grinned back and got up and stole the ball, dribbling it to the hoop and shooting. He missed. Cole stole it and shot—scored.
“Can you teach me how to shoot like that?” Jake asked, chasing down the ball and bouncing it to Cole.
“Just keep working on your shot,” Cole said. “Find your best spot. Shoot it hard—mean it. And pop that baby in,” he added, dribbling to the hoop and demonstrating all he’d said. Of course the ball went right in. “Also helps to be six inches taller.”
Jake laughed. “Good point. My dad’s really tall, so I think I will be too.”
Sawyer stole the ball, shot—and missed.
“So what’s my brother’s excuse?” Cole joked. “He’s six-two.”
Jake loved that. “Burn!” he said, holding up his palm for a high five to Cole, which Cole delighted in receiving.
“Ha, ha,” Sawyer said. “Everyone knows I’m a baseball guy.”
“Uh, they do?” Cole asked, winking at Jake, who laughed again. Cole grabbed the ball and shot again and scored. “Look, Jake, if you want some one-on-one with your dad, just the two of you, I suggest you plan a sneak attack. Works in basketball, will work at home.”
“I’ve already talked to my dad about it. All I got back was the usual whatever about ‘the baby.’”
“No—the sneak attack isn’t on your dad,” Cole said. “He’s not in control. It’s the stepmother you need in your court.” He bounced the ball for emphasis. “What you want to do is get her to see things your way. Then she makes your case for you and you get what you want.”
Now that had Jake’s total attention. He moved closer to Cole. “What do I say to her?”
“You say, Daphne, or whatever her name is—”
“It’s Amy.”
“You say, Amy, I really miss my dad. I know he has a whole new family and everything, but I don’t get to spend any time with him one-on-one anymore, and maybe we can schedule something every week just me and him. Like every Monday, from five to six, he comes here and shoots hoops with me.”
Jake rolled his eyes again. “Like she’d say yes. Right.”
“Maybe she will,” Cole said. “Especially when she knows what’s in it for her.”
“What could possibly be in it for her?” Jake asked.
Cole shook his bangs out of his eyes. “Two things. One, she gets to feel like she’s bringing father and son closer together. Two, you’ll get off her back. And a happier Jake means a happier house. Tell her you know you’ve been moping around and you think spending just an hour one-on-one with your dad here would really change things for you.”
Jake considered that, biting his lip on a slow nod. “They do say I sulk a lot. She might go for it.”
Cole dribbled the ball, turning and bouncing the ball between his legs. “I bet she will. Ask her when you get home tonight.”
Jake stole the ball. “I will,” he said, shooting and scoring a three-pointer. “Yeah! My first three-pointer! The crowd goes wild!”
Cole put his hands around his mouth and made a whooshing sound.
They spent the next half hour taking turns shooting. Sawyer had no idea Cole was so good at basketball—or with kids. He made a huge impression on Jake. It also helped that he was younger than Sawyer and looked it, with his mop of hair and “whatever” attitude, which appealed to Cole. Right now, Cole was telling Jake he was a cowboy, and he had the kid rapt as he talked about the border collie who worked the ranch as an honorary cowboy, keeping the herd in line.
Cole really had a way with Jake and could do wonders here at the center.
“I went here after school every day when I was a kid,” Cole said. “At first I hated it, but then I never wanted to leave. It’s a good program. You come every day?”
“Yup.”
“How do you get here?” Cole asked. “Bike? Biking will build up your leg muscles for fast shifts on the court.”
“I walk. My bike’s too small now, and my dad said they can’t replace it right now unless he can find a used one. So my dad picks me up from here. Of course ‘the baby’ and my stepmother are usually waiting in the car, so he can never shoot hoops with me.”
“I can definitely say my dad never picked me up from anywhere, ever,” Cole said. “You know, I once had the best mountain bike. Huge tires, bright orange color, water-bottle holder, back rack. That bike was the best.”
Sawyer stared at Cole, thinking about the comment about their dad. There was usually bitterness in Cole’s voice when he talked about Hank Wolfe. But just then, he seemed more focused on Jake—and indirectly pointing out that getting picked up by your dad was pretty cool.
“That’s what I would want if I could get a bike,” Jake said. “A mountain bike. Either orange or silver.”
Bingo. Sawyer had been planning to get some intel from Jake about the bike he’d listed as his sole Christmas want on the Holiday Happymakers form. Thanks to Cole, he got it.
“Maybe Santa will bring you a new bike,” Cole said. “You never know.”
“Yeah, sure. My dad can’t afford it right now since ‘the baby’ gets everything. I wrote one of those wish lists for the Happy Holidaymakers tree or whatever it’s called but since there’s no such thing as Santa, I know I’m not getting anything. My dad and Amy will probably buy me a pair of pajamas.”
“I hated getting clothes as gifts as a kid,” Cole agreed.
“Right?” Jake said with a knowing nod.
“Jake, time go to,” Vince Russtower called from by the side door.
Cole glanced over at Vince, seemingly sizing him up. “Remember, sneak attack,” he said, fist-bumping Jake.
Jake grabbed his jacket and backpack with a grin and ran over to his dad.
“Wow,” Sawyer said. “You really have a way with kids. That was amazing.”
Cole shrugged. “Whenever I see a sulking kid, I think of myself, I guess, and get all empathetic.”
“Well, I think you made a big impression on Jake. And your advice about talking to his stepmother about needing a little time alone with his dad was a great idea.”
“It should work too,” Cole said. “It did on my mom, and she hated our dad. I’d tell her I was the way I was because I never got to spend any time with my dad, and she’d sigh and call him up and try to get him to make plans with me. Not that our dad ever did.”
“He just wasn’t a good person, Cole. It had nothing to do with you or me. He was just...limited.”
Cole shrugged and scooped up the ball from where Jake had left it, scoring a three-pointer. “I hate talking about this stuff. Is it time for dinner?”
Sawyer smiled. “No, but let’s go wow some other kid with your basketball skills.”
Now it was Cole who smiled.
Huh. Maddie had been right again. Volunteering together had done wonders for him and Cole in just thirty minutes of throwing a ball around the makeshift court.
“Jake has it better than he knows,” Cole said. “But everything’s relative, isn’t it? I can’t imagine Dad even picking you up from after-school care.”
“He wouldn’t have. I can tell
you stories about walking miles in the snow—and mean it.”
Cole grinned, then his smile faded. “You still grew up with him, though. You had a dad.”
“And you had a mother. I didn’t.”
“Not the same thing,” Cole said.
“We each had one parent,” Sawyer reminded him. “How is it not the same?”
“You’ve said that a million times. And I’ve told you why a million times. You got the dad, I got no dad. We didn’t have the same mom. There’s no equivalency.”
Sawyer thought there was, but he understood what Cole meant. They shared a dad and Sawyer had lived with him, and Cole saw him maybe five times before he graduated from high school.
“Hey, look, it’s another me from elementary school,” Cole said, then jogged up to the boy. He said something, and then a second later, the kid who’d been sitting alone was on the court, dribbling toward the hoop.
“You should come here as often as you can,” Sawyer told his brother. “This is your thing.”
Cole chased down the ball for the boy and bounced it back to him. “I did okay with Jake. I might have the answers to this little dude’s issues too.”
Sawyer smiled. “Talk to the director about setting up a volunteer schedule. Even twice a week would mean a lot to this place.”
Cole nodded. “You think that’s okay, though?”
“I think what’s okay?”
Cole snagged the errant basketball with his foot and bounced it back to the boy, who was now practicing dribbling. “Making time for coming here when...” He trailed off, biting his lip and looking at the floor.
Sawyer tilted his head, not sure what his brother meant, where he was going with this.
A Wyoming Christmas to Remember Page 14
