Page 49 of One Night with Number Nineteen

Her hands are on me—or on my neck, anyway. Trailing lightly over my skin, pausing and then⁠—

“Ow!”

Ollie pauses in his survey of the cooking French toast and looks back at us. “You have a boo-boo, Sawyer?”

God, the way he says my name—Saw-yur—kills me, it’s so damned cute.

“I’m good,” I tell him.

“Yes,” Lainey says at the same time.

“I’m fine⁠—”

But she’s not looking at me. “Remember where it is?”

“Where what is?” I ask.

Ollie just clambers down from the chair and zips from the room. I watch him go in confusion and by the time I turn back, Lainey’s already at the griddle, flipping the French toast and bacon.

“You don’t have to⁠—”

“Sit,” she orders, turning back to me and indicating the table with a flick of the spatula.

“I—”

Ollie skids back into the room with something in his hand.

I only see a flash of color before he chucks it in the microwave and hits a button.

“Um…”

“Sit,” Lainey orders again and this time Ollie snags my hand, dragging me over to the table.

“Mr. Cricket will fix your boo-boo, Saw-yur.”

“I—”

The microwave dings and Ollie runs back, but it’s Lainey who opens it and pulls out…Mr. Cricket, I guess?

“Careful, baby,” she says when Ollie tries to take it from her. “Let me make sure it’s not too hot.”

He bounces as he waits, and then when she passes it to him, he races over, clambers up into the chair next to mine and⁠—

“I—”

Sets it on my neck.

And fuck, this kid is going to destroy me.

Maybe the woman too.

Especially when Lainey comes over and repositions the compress, saying softly, “I think Sawyer’s boo-boo is right there, baby.”

“Is that better?” Ollie asks.

I can’t speak, so I just nod as the heat sinks into my skin, as the faint scent of lavender fills my nose.

“Thanks, bud. That feels a lot better.” I start to stand. “Okay, now let me finish with the⁠—”