Page 28 of For the Record
“Oh? Were you forced into conversion therapy, too?” Sawyer’s voice dripped with sarcasm. She pressed her fingers to her throbbing temples. Four glasses of wine were probably her limit. “I didn’t think so. It fucks you up, Cin. To grow up believing you have an illness, terrified to even look at a girl, let alone befriend one. Toloveone.”
“Well, this conversation changed drastically in the few minutes I was gone,” Lori commented, letting out a strained chuckle. She placed two bowls down, one of chips and one of M&M’s.
“I’m just explaining to Cindy how we can’t all find happily-ever-afters. Some of us are better off alone.”
“And I’m politely disagreeing with you. You’ll never know unless you try. You have a lot to give, Sawyer. Someone out there deserves to know the real you.”
For some ungodly reason, McCoy’s lazy smile the first time Sawyer had seen her came to mind. It was like a sucker punch to the already crater-sized hole in her gut. If she had been standing, her legs probably would have buckled.
“I have Bree,” she replied, softer than she’d thought possible. She thought of the babies she’d lost, especially Brian. Olivier used to say Sawyer’s miscarriages were God’s way of making certain she atoned for her sins. As if marrying him in the first place hadn’t been enough penance. She’d buried who she was out of fear that everything her father and the church had stuffed down her throat was the truth. She’d endured a loveless marriage, and for what? Even her parents had turned their back on her after Brian’s death, choosing to side with Olivier rather than offer her and Bree emotional support. It was then she realized how much of a monster her father truly was. He’d excused years of abuse against her for the sake of his church, and Sawyer had refused to live a second more of it. She turned her back on that faith and vowed to herself never to speak to herparents or Olivier’s family again. Fifteen years later, they were all as good as dead to her.
No, life had dealt her too much pain to start over, even if it meant finally coming out of the closet. Bree was all Sawyer needed to remind her of the goodness still left in the world. Her throat was raw as she added, “I’ve done my time. Why would I voluntarily submit to another sentence?”
This time, Lori reached out to comfort Sawyer, her soft brown skin on Sawyer’s a stark contrast. All the hand-touching and sympathy had her cringing. “I’ll say this, and then I think we should move on to our game. Falling in love with the right person is the opposite of a jail sentence. It feels like you could have all the time in the world with them, and it still wouldn’t be enough. They see you, heal the brokenness inside. They become the other half of you, the best half.”
Sawyer swallowed, aware of her pulse slowly picking up at Lori’s words. All Olivier had ever done was bring on more misery than he was worth. She’d never once felt that kind of love for someone. How was it she was in her forties and still felt so monumentally inexperienced?
Chapter 14
McCoy
After five weeks ofworking part-time and dodging Sawyer’s hot and cold moods, the McLaren was beginning to look like more than just a jaw-dropping widow maker. Like her father, there weren’t many things in life that made Coy happier than tinkering with cars. A rebuild was just like any restoration, whether it was on a house or antiques, and she loved the painstaking process of removing the McLaren’s broken pieces—and there were a lot.
She felt bad that Tegan had been cast off to her father mid-way through the disassembling process, but borrowing Greg’s truck had been a no-brainer. Coy was able to load the junk parts on each time and take them to the scrap yard rather than hooking up her trailer and taking up more of Sawyer’s driveway. She would have had something to say about it.
Coy looked up from where she was removing the driver's seat, pausing when she noticed Sawyer standing on the last step in the garage. Still sour over having to work the Sunday a week and a half earlier, Coy had been doing her best to avoid her helpless gaze lingering on Sawyer for too long. Still, she knew the woman enough to sense there was something seriously off. Uncertainty was coming off the older woman in waves, her face scrunched up in deep concentration as she made her way to Coy. She carried a Tupperware dish in one hand, a coffee thermos in the other, and wrapped utensils dangled from her fingertips.
Coy set the seat down beside the pallet with the parts she was keeping. She waited, wondering what Sawyer would do. Hell, she wondered if Sawyer knew. She seemed uncharacteristically lost. Finally, she turned to Coy, taking a deep breath as if to compose herself.
Coy reached up to remove her earbuds. “Sawyer? You alright?”
Sawyer blinked, staring down at Coy in a daze. She nodded slowly, holding out the ceramic Tupperware dish for her to take. “You probably ate already, but I was experimenting in the kitchen, so …” was all she said.
Coy checked the wall clock, one eyebrow lifting. “It’s early to be experimenting, but thank you. I’d never pass up one of your meals.” Accepting the container from Sawyer, Coy casually grazed her fingertips along the back of her hand during the swap. Sawyer inhaled sharply, pulling back, and Coy had to catch the dish before it fell. “Sorry,” she mumbled.
Sawyer turned on her heel to leave and then, as an afterthought, she set the thermos down on the bench beside Coy. “Coffee, cream and sugar. Just how you like it.”
Sawyer had paid attention to what was written on her takeout cups? Her stomach bottomed out seconds before butterflies took flight low in her belly. Coy cleared her throat, aware of her sweaty palms yet wishing she could reach for Sawyer. Shewanted more than anything to touch her again. “I appreciate it. And the food. You’re gifted, Sawyer. I-in the kitchen, I mean. How long have you been a chef?”
Her back straightened, and when Coy was sure she wouldn’t get a response, Sawyer surprised her. “Twenty-three years.”
“Twenty-three?” Coy’s eyes widened as she looked Sawyer up and down more closely. “What did you do, drop out of school?”
Sawyer turned to frown at Coy. “Exactly how old do you think I am?”
Coy shrugged, her gaze roaming over Sawyer’s face, pausing on the partially disguised left side. There was a scar or something there that she tried to hide behind her hair and foundation, but if anything, it only made Sawyer more attractive in Coy’s eyes. In certain light, the salt and pepper strands of her black hair didn’t blend in as easily, but again, it only added to her character. Sawyer’s smoky eyes were flawlessly proportioned with her high cheekbones, angular jaw, perfect, pert nose, and lips that were made for hour-long make-out sessions.
“This is precisely why older women don’t talk about their age,” Sawyer snapped, breaking Coy out of her embarrassingly intense examination. She gave Sawyer a bashful grin, feeling the heat rising to her cheeks.
“Sorry. For a minute, your beauty made me lose my train of thought.”
Sawyer scoffed. “Is everything a joke to you?” Her piercing glare made Coy shrink back slightly. Confusion and hurt blanketed her anger, and in a momentary lapse of that iron-clad facade, Sawyer’s emotions were so raw Coy wished she could turn back time and rephrase her words. “What are you, McCoy, twenty-five?Esti, I could be your mother, for God’s sake. I had you sign the contract so we could avoid these deceptions.”
Any time Coy had seen her in the past few weeks, Sawyer carried herself with such confidence and grace. She’d nevergiven Coy the impression she was anything but. Was it hard to believe Coy would find her attractive?
She swallowed hard. “Look, I’m sorry, okay? I-I flirt when I’m nervous, but I wouldn’t bullshit you.Wait, please.”
Coy’s heart was pounding as she jumped from the workbench, catching Sawyer’s hand as she turned to leave. Her palm was soft in Coy’s, and for a millisecond, Coy didn’t do anything but marvel over how easily their fingers linked together.Like she was made for me.