Page 76 of For the Record
“Then, can I ask—”
“Why didn’t I leave him?” Sawyer finished. A rueful smile appeared. “I almost did, a few times, and was quickly reminded of how much power he had over my life. That I was nothing without him, and he would make sure I never got to see Bree. So I stayed.”
“What a manipulative asshole.” McCoy scowled.
“He was.” Sawyer nodded, placing her palm over McCoy’s forehead to smooth the wrinkles out. She bit her lip, admitting, “I never wanted to marry Olivier to begin with.”
McCoy’s soothing hand stilled on her hip. “You didn’t?”
“No, but at nineteen, I was scared to death of going to hell if I gave in to my true desires.” Sawyer closed her eyes, relaxing into McCoy’s caress. Two hours later, and she didn’t think the younger woman had stopped touching her. Walking in on her destroying the car had clearly affected McCoy, and since physical touch was her love language, Sawyer could only assume McCoy was soothing herself as much as she was Sawyer. “I spent—” Sawyer froze, unsure how much of her past she should delve into.
“Sweetheart, I think you need to tell it,” McCoy reached up to brush her thumb over Sawyer’s bottom lip. The callouses on her skin made Sawyer quiver. “It’s on the tip of your tongue now. Let it all out. I swear I’ll only love you harder after.”
Sawyer swallowed. Then swallowed again, grimacing at the persistent ball of thorns in her throat. “There was this girl in my church. Beth Li. She was new to the area and didn’t speak a lot of English or French. That didn’t matter. We became fast friends, and then, something more. She was so pretty and kind, and her parents were so much nicer than mine. My father didn’t like them, though. He was racist and homophobic and thought he was better than everyone else. One day …” Sawyer took a deep breath, hating how old memories still stung or how youngshe felt when dredging them up. It was much easier to push everything down and utilize her ice queen facade.
She reached for Patches, who was purring near her ear, bringing her closer to her chest and burying her face in the cat’s soft fur. “My oldest brother Sebastion caught us making out in our treehouse and ran to tellPapa. I never saw Beth again. The next morning, I was packed up and sent to my first conversion camp. When I came back, I wasn’t permitted to leave the house for the first week. By the second week, Beth and her family had moved away. My father drove them out of town, McCoy.”
“Fuck,” McCoy breathed, her hands fussing over the adhesive bandage she’d placed over the cut on Sawyer’s forearm. Tears shone brightly in her green gaze. “Conversion camp? Sweetheart, that must have been …”
“Fucking horrible,” Sawyer finished for her, swallowing again, and she added hoarsely, “Between the camps and the therapy while my parents homeschooled me, my spirit died. I became who they shaped me to be. I wanted out from their clutches, so when I met Olivier and they approved, we started dating. By nineteen, I was married and in cooking school. I thought that at least Olivier seemed progressive, you know? He let me learn and become a chef, and that was more than what I could say about my spineless mother. In a way, he supported my dreams. He was Catholic as well. Our fathers were business partners, but he was nine years older, so I didn’t know a lot about him growing up. I hadn’t realized until years later that he’d learned of my time with Beth.”
McCoy began tracing gentle patterns over Sawyer’s shoulder. “Your father?”
Sawyer scowled. “Oui. And for years, Olivier used to bring it up when he thought I needed atonement.”
“But things were going okay for a while, right? You were becoming a chef. You went to France.”
“It was … manageable,” Sawyer whispered, reaching out to cup McCoy’s cheek. For a moment, she studied her, trying to put into words how she’d felt then compared to now. “The … the way you make me feel … thedesire… it was never like that with him. I was just … numb, I guess. He wanted us to have kids right away. I wanted to wait. I got pregnant and miscarried four times before Bree was conceived. I thought it was because I wasn’t ready.” She peeled her gaze from Coy’s as the familiar prick of tears formed. It was difficult to admit how she’d allowed so much to happen. She’d been a spectator in her own life.
McCoy leaned forward to kiss away a fleeting tear. “You were young. It wasn’t your fault, sweetheart.”
Sawyer shook her head. McCoy wasn’t getting it. She didn’tknow. “When I got pregnant with Bree, I was cooking full-time in my dream restaurant in the heart of France. It was an awful pregnancy. I spent so much of my time throwing up that the head chef placed me on leave. Still, Olivier wasn’t happy. We made the move to Vancouver when I was six months along. Bought our first house and the restaurant within months. But nothing was ever enough for him. Running his family's business wasn’t enough, so he rushed to get the restaurant. Said he was doing me a favor putting my name on the deed but that his name would be the one remembered.Desmarais. I was twenty-three, nine months pregnant, and had gestational diabetes. When I went into labour, they found out Bree was breech, and I needed a last-minute cesarean.”
“Fuck, Sawyer.” The meadow green of McCoy’s eyes were gleaming with her own tears.
“Bree is my miracle baby,” Sawyer smiled sadly. Her heart squeezed, knowing she needed to share the rest. Bree had told her as much weeks ago. To let McCoy in.
Can she heal the broken inside me?
“Olivier wanted a boy,” Sawyer swallowed, her eyes drifting closed as memories washed over her. All the fighting, the pleading … “He wanted a son and spent a lot of time trying to make one. Every night, it didn’t matter if Bree was hungry, crying in her bassinet. I-I was trying to breastfeed, so one time I just …” She shook her head, unable to say it. Instead, with trembling hands, she made the action of placing a baby on her breast, closing her eyes in shame. “It shut her up long enough for him to finish.”
McCoy was crying openly now. Sawyer could hear her sniffles, feel how her grip tightened fractionally, as if she were afraid Sawyer would slip away. “That bastard,” she growled.
“It was harder to get pregnant after Bree, and when I did, I miscarried.” The rawness in Sawyer’s throat made it difficult to speak. “Olivier began cheating somewhere around that time. Getting pregnant with Brian was a happy accident for us both. Olivier had all but given up on me, convinced that my miscarriages were a penance for being gay.”
“Sawyer … honey, you know that’s not true, right?”
Sawyer’s damp eyes fluttered open as McCoy pressed a soft kiss to her lips. Their gazes met and held. She was bone tired. All she wanted was to feel her bare skin on McCoy’s and fall asleep holding her.
Just get it over with. Finish it. Tell her everything.
“My blood pressure was consistently high with Brian. I was working too much and took care of Bree and everything at home. My doctor put me on meds at thirty-two weeks. One night …” Sawyer paused, taking a moment to suck more air into her lungs. She let the tears slip down her cheeks. “Olivier and I were fighting, and this happened.” She gestured to her face. McCoy brushed her tears away once more. “I was in so much pain, McCoy. Everywhere. I-I thought I would die, and Olivier, he-he ran. Just left me there screaming with Bree asleep upstairs. Hedidn’t come see me at the hospital. Our neighbor had to take Bree.”
Sawyer squeezed her eyes shut, trying desperately to separate herself from that horrible night. The words tumbled out. “That night, I woke with inexplicable pain and bleeding. I was out of it from the burns and didn’t realize right away what was happening. By the time the nurses examined me, it was too late. I had what they called a placental abruption.”
A sob broke out, and Sawyer clamped her hand over her mouth. Tears ran down her fingers. “My blood pressure spiked, probably from the burns. I … He wasn’t supposed to come yet. We had an appointment scheduled a few weeks later for a cesarean.Mon dieu, McCoy. I-I had to deliver him vaginally, d-deliver Brian, even though … even though he was already …”
Dead.