Still hours before sunset, I paced. I couldn't sleep. I hated the unfairness of daylight because it was such a disadvantage. And every passing hour was a reminder that there were children out there, missing, terrified, cold children I hoped with every dead cell in my body were still alive.
"Belle."
I whirled from the living room window, which was fully draped, a tad jumpy.
Sawyer stood next to the Christmas tree, its twinkling lights reflecting off of his still-damp hair. "Sniffing the drapes?"
"They smell like raisins for some reason, which makes me feel disappointed, like when I see cookies and immediately think they're chocolate chip." I sighed like this was the most tragic thing ever. "Curtains should smell like chocolate chips."
He rolled his lips to fight back a smile. "Are you okay?"
"No." My shoulders sagged. "I feel useless."