I did. I needed Sarah, and holding her was as if I was finally coming alive again. I could feel. See. Breathe. I’d walked away and made something of myself. For her. For me. For my parents. I’d done that, but I’d left a piece of me behind with Sarah. My heart. She hadn’t known it. Hell, neither had I. Not until now.

I’d been fourteen when my parents were killed in a plane crash. The last thing I’d said to them had been in anger. We’d fought about stupid teenaged shit, and I’d stormed off, rode an ATV out to the farthest corners of the Manning land. When I’d returned, the then chief of police had stood on the main house front porch with Sawyer and Thatcher to tell me the news. My parents were gone.

I shut down then. Hadn’t cared or given a shit about anything. Cut school. Went wild. For years. The person who’d finally tamed me had been Sarah. She’d made me want to be a better person. Lead a life that my parents would be proud of.

I sighed, then kissed the top of her head.

I was exhausted. I’d been woken up for the preschool fire, dealt with Kelsey and Sawyer in the jail, then I’d driven halfway back to the ranch before getting the call for the rollover. The lovebirds had returned first thing for Kelsey to give her statement. That had been followed by the Bunky bombshell and Sawyer punching him in the face and Sawyer stalking out. I’d driven Kelsey to the ranch—yup, she fucking hated me—and then got the call about Sarah’s argument with her dad.

Sarah had gone to the rollover and probably hadn’t slept since either.

“Come on, baby girl. Let’s get some shut-eye.”

Her fingers loosened on the back of my shirt, and I led her into her bedroom. Her bed wasn’t made, and I had to assume she’d climbed out for the call. A sleep shirt was on the floor and a bra slung over the footboard.

I sat on the side of bed and got her between my knees and began to undo the button on her jeans. Her hand stilled mine, and I lifted my gaze to look into her pale eyes. I saw my whole world there. We had so much to work out between us, but we would. Later.

“You can’t sleep in these pants,” I murmured. I kept my words soft and gentle. I’d jerked off to the idea of getting her bare more times than I could count, but this wasn’t the time to do anything. “Let’s get you comfortable. Nothing more.”

She let go, and I got the button open, the zipper down. She took over and shimmied the denim down her legs. They caught on her sneakers, and she toed them off, then got rid of her jeans and socks.

Once done she stood in a T-shirt that hit her mid-hip and a pair of pale blue panties, I leaned my forehead against her chest. She was so small, tiny compared to me, that the soft swells of her breasts were a cushion. I breathed her in as I set my hands on the backs of her bare thighs.