Page 34 of For the Record
Yes, from you, not her. Stop deflecting. One word is all it would take.Thanks.How hard could it be?
“She was just doing her job,Maman. You didn’t have to be rude,” Bree said the moment they were alone again. She was twisting her long brown strands atop her head in a loose bun, a bemused expression on her face as she stared at her mother.
“I know,” sighed Sawyer, her head falling back onto her pillow. Exhaustion was hitting her already, and she’d only just had breakfast. Her body was bone-tired, like she could sleep for a week straight. If only the nurses would quit coming into her room. “I need to get back to work.”
Bree’s hand landed on the arm not attached to an IV, and she gave Sawyer a light squeeze. “Work is the last thing you need.The restaurant will be there when you’re all healed up. Cindy’s running the kitchen like she’s worked there for years. And I know you don’t like it, but I’m helping too. Seriously, you could have the whole summer off if you wanted to.”
“Absolutely not,” Sawyer breathed, unable to believe Cindy had quit her job to help her out. Especially since Sawyer had been so miserable lately. Why would Cindy subject herself daily to Sawyer’s bitchiness? “I’m still upset that you’re here when I told you not to worry about me.”
“You had a heart attack. Would you have even told me if Barb hadn’t?”
Sawyer closed her eyes. “I just want you to be happy,mon amour. I know … coming back here brings up bad memories.”
“I don’t want to get into it and bring on more stress, but I will say this much: you’re wrong,Maman. All my bad memories died a year ago. We’re free now, and I love coming home to visit you.”
Sawyer took a deep breath, willing herself to remain calm in front of Bree. She’d known there was no love lost between her daughter and husband, but to hear Bree speak so frankly was alarming.
There was a knock on the door, and even as Sawyer thought of ways she could ignore the interruption, Bree was exclaiming, “Holy flowers.Maman, are you seeing this?”
Opening her eyes again, the first thing Sawyer noticed was the enormous bouquet coming into her private room. The daffodils were effectively blocking her view of the person carrying them, and it wasn’t until the figure set the beautiful display down on the dinner table that she saw who it was.
“Hi, sorry I’m late. They, uh, wouldn’t let me in when you were in intensive care,” McCoy greeted her, looking self-conscious as she darted a glance in Bree’s direction.
Surprised and secretly pleased, Sawyer sputtered, “Hi, McCoy.”
McCoy visibly swallowed, her lips looking as tempting as they had the day she’d kissed them. “Hi. How are you?”
“Did you say McCoy?” Bree interrupted, standing up as well now. A hand flew to her throat as she stared incredulously at McCoy. “You’re the one who saved my mom.”
“It was … I did CPR. Oh!” McCoy exclaimed, awkwardly accepting Bree’s hug. A faint blush covered her cheeks as she met Sawyer’s gaze. “I’m just glad I was there.”
“Me too. God, you have no idea.” Bree wiped away a fleeting tear, laughing as she pulled back from McCoy and really looked at her for the first time. Then Bree glanced at Sawyer. “Isn’t McCoy the one working onPapa’scar? Cindy told me.”
“She is, yes,” Sawyer replied, her gaze fixed on McCoy’s. She cleared her throat. “Bree, can you give us a moment?”
Bree’s eyebrows shot up, but she nodded. “I’ll just grab a coffee.”
Once they were alone, Sawyer studied McCoy silently for long enough that she eventually had the younger woman squirming where she stood. She was dressed impeccably in non-work clothes, wearing a pair of torn, punk-style black skinny jeans, Converse sneakers, and a blue and black checkered flannel long-sleeve shirt. For once, her chestnut hair was loose, reaching mid-point to her ear and sloping to one side over the disconnected undercut. She took Sawyer’s breath away.
“May I?” McCoy asked, breaking the silence. She pointed to the chair Bree had occupied before taking a seat. Seconds later, the chair legs scraped as McCoy pulled closer to Sawyer’s bedside.
“You know CPR,” Sawyer said when nothing else came to mind.
McCoy glanced around the private room, absently rubbing the back of her neck. Sawyer recognized it as one of her nervoushabits. “Yeah. I, um … I’ve volunteered for years with the mountain bike association as one of their First Aid responders.”
“So, you mountain bike?” That could explain Sawyer’s fascination with McCoy’s biceps, right? Mountain biking sounded like it took a lot of upper body strength.
“I do. My sister and cousin do, too. The young blond-haired guy at the shop is my cousin, J.D.”
Sawyer recalled seeing someone with light hair the other day when she breezed through the waiting room, but she didn’t comment on it. Instead, she said, “Thank you for the flowers, but why are you here, McCoy? If … you’re wondering about work, then it’ll be another few days before I’m home.”
“What?” She seemed shocked Sawyer would suggest as much, and she wagged her head back and forth in denial, her expressive green gaze wide. “No, I … I came to seeyou. I’m so sorry, Sawyer. I-I can’t help but feel like I had something to do with what happened.”
Sawyer frowned. “So you’re here in … what? A friendly capacity?”
McCoy looked confused, but she nodded slowly. “Sure, yes. If that’s what you want.”
“It’s not. I have enough friends.” Cindy and Lori were often more friends than she had time for. She certainly didn’t want McCoy to fall into that category only to later torture Sawyer with tales of her sex life.