Page 75 of For the Record
Sawyer’s chest heaved as she stared at Coy for a second longer, no doubt weighing the truth of her words.
“I’m crazy about you, don’t you know that?” Coy reached for her, but Sawyer wrenched away at the last second, a guttural scream tearing from her chest.
“Arrgh!”
The tire iron smashed out one headlight and then the next. Coy followed Sawyer, striking the heavy hammer down again and again, pulverizing doors and tire rims, anything she could safely damage. Sawyer’s sobs increased, racking her shoulders until the tire iron slipped from her grasp and clattered to the ground. Still, she wasn’t finished. Coy’s eyes widened as Sawyershakily pulled the knife out of the tire, stepping over broken glass from the window with her sensible kitchen shoes. Hell, as Coy gawked, it only dawned on her in that moment that Sawyer was still in her chef’s uniform.
She was crying and speaking in rapid French as she pulled open the car door. It was the closest Coy had seen Sawyer get to the McLaren, and as she watched the woman she loved straddle the passenger seat and tear the inside to shreds, a magnitude of inexplicable emotion filled her to overflowing.
She understood everything now. Or at least why Sawyer had spent so much money on a car she’d had no intention of ever driving. It was her final “fuck you” to a man she had loathed.
Sawyer was taking back whatever control she felt she’d lost.
“It’s done.” There was an emptiness in her voice as she limped toward Coy. Her shoulders were rounded as if she was already withdrawing, and the moment she let go of the knife, her knees buckled.
Coy dropped the sledgehammer and grabbed Sawyer before she fell. “I’ve got you, sweetheart.”
“I’m tired, McCoy.” Tear-filled eyes bore into Coy. Sawyer swallowed hard. “I don’t have the strength to …” Her voice trailed off, and she glanced over Coy’s shoulder to the battered car behind them.
“Want me to?”
Sawyer opened and then closed her mouth. She nodded once, still not meeting Coy’s gaze.
The trained First Aid responder in her was dying to set Sawyer down somewhere dry to look at any wounds, but she knew Sawyer wouldn’t stand for that. For one reason or another, it was imperative that she see this through.
Coy made certain she was stable on her feet before picking up the sledgehammer again. Taking a deep breath, she hoisted it over her shoulder once more and ignored the twinge of protestfrom her aching muscles. Her own discomfort was nothing if it helped lessen some of Sawyer’s.
Now that she didn’t have to worry about accidentally hitting Sawyer, she made quick work of totalling the supercar. Under the weight of the sledgehammer, the roof and trunk caved in, side panels fell off, and soon, even the engine was smoking from the abuse on the hood. The silent acceptance in Sawyer’s eyes had Coy dropping the hammer for the final time. She was out of breath and sweaty, and her arms felt like deadweights as she crossed the distance to where Sawyer was huddled on the pavement. Coy didn’t say anything, merely bent and scooped Sawyer up in her arms, cradling her soaked-through body as she led the way to her shop.
Sawyer wept quietly into her hands, her head leaning against Coy’s shoulder as she walked them to her office. It was used as more of a changing room for Coy, but it had a small washroom with a stand-up shower for when Coy got extra dirty at work. It was something J.D. teased her endlessly over, but the simple luxury was coming in handy now.
“Sweetheart, I’m just gonna get you warm, okay?” Coy set Sawyer down gently in one of the office chairs. Sawyer remained silent, but now she stared at the family picture on Coy’s desk. She had bits of glass in her hair, and her clothes were torn in places. Coy chewed the inside of her cheeks wondering what to do, before she grabbed the First Aid kit out of her bottom drawer. Pulling on a pair of latex gloves, Coy carefully picked out the glass, dropping it in the garbage can she’d pulled over. Then she walked the few feet to the bathroom to start the shower. Sawyer was still sitting in the same spot, her empty gaze locked on Coy’s family photos.
“Hey,” Coy murmured, squatting to face Sawyer. She held Sawyer’s jaw between her fingers, searching for recognition in her eyes. “Let’s get you out of this, okay?” she said of Sawyer’sshirt, pinching the hem between her fingers. Sawyer blinked, acknowledging Coy like she was waking from a deep sleep. The nod of her head appeared labored. Coy slowly removed her clothes, then her own, before carrying Sawyer into the shower.
“I’m so in love with you, Sawyer,” Coy whispered as she helped tilt Sawyer’s damp locks under the hot water. “You’re the strongest woman I know, and I’m proud to be yours.”
“Oh, McCoy.”
Despite the temperature in the shower, Sawyer began to shake. Fresh tears mixed with the water on her cheeks. “It’s my son’s birthday today.”
Coy’s heart thrashed against her chest at the confession, and Sawyer’s nightmare the other night came to mind. “Brian.”
Sawyer nodded, collapsing into Coy’s embrace. She buried her face in the crook of Coy’s neck, choking out, “Mon bel amour, mon bébé,B-Brian Edouard.He would have been sixteen.”
So he died.Coy took an unsteady breath, trying her best to school her emotions. Sawyer needed her strength right now, not her damn golden retriever ability to weep on command. A million platitudes popped into her brain and exited just as fast. What could she say? Whatwasthere to say? No amount of sympathy could replace what Sawyer had lost.
“Fuck,” she mumbled at last. “I am so very, very sorry for your loss, sweetheart.” She held her tighter, molding their slick bodies together as Sawyer wept in her safe embrace.
Coy never wanted to let her go.
Chapter 40
Sawyer
It felt like thedeadest of weights had been lifted from Sawyer.
“I held onto that rage for so long,” she whispered, unable to meet McCoy’s eyes. Even though she knew McCoy would never judge her, it was easier to open up without staring at another person. They were cuddling in Sawyer’s bed, with Patches purring at the top of Sawyer’s pillow. She licked her dry lips and swallowed, reaching up to finger the strings on McCoy’s hoodie. “I’d buried it so deep, and yet, every time I looked in the mirror, I hated myself a little more. It was like a poison, slowly killing me from the inside out.” Sawyer looked up at McCoy then, her throat constricting as she swallowed the large lump that had formed. “I hated him so much, McCoy.”