CHAPTER 10
Garrison
“Where are you?” I growl, throwing the keys to the Beast on the table in the front hall.
I don’t have to wait for an answer, I just follow the smell of his chewing tobacco until I find Cuzzo sitting on the back porch. The old man stares up at the sky, a small smile dancing on his lips. His demeanor irritates me even more. I spent the last thirty minutes listening to Sawyer drone on and on about how amazing Cuzzo is. I have to admit, he is an outstanding man but I don’t like her focusing on him and not me if I’m entirely honest.
He lifts his arm, pointing toward the heavens as he begins to speak. “Did you ever figure out where the Little Dipper is?”
“Why did you tell Sawyer that I’d been watching that stupid show?”
His smile gets even bigger. “I’ll take that as a no. Geesh, I would’ve thought after all those years in the Navy, someone would’ve taught you how to find a constellation.”
“I’m serious, Cuzzo. Why would you tell her that?”
The old man looks in my direction. “Why wouldn’t you tell her yourself?”
I shake my head and take a seat beside him. I hate when Cuzzo answers a question with a question because it usually means he’s right without directly saying “I told you so.”
“You like her, Garrison, let her know that.”
“I’m leaving, Cuzzo. She’s not sticking around here. There’s no point to get emotionally invested for either of us.”
A boisterous chuckle jumps out of the old man as he turns to me. “Garrison Cocuzzo, emotionally invested in anything?” His laughing gets louder and I roll my eyes, waiting for him to calm down. Finally, he does and he goes on. “I’m not suggesting anything other than you be a friend for her while she needs one. She’s lost her mother and is grasping at straws to find one living relative. It doesn’t hurt either of you to let your guard down and be honest with one another. Like you said, you’re leaving so you have nothing to lose, right?”
Muttering in Arabic, I stand up and walk back in the house. My grandfather, like always, is right. She’s leaving, I’m leaving so what do I have to lose? Not a damn thing.
Cuzzo calls after me, “Language, Garrison.”
Laughing, I apologize and shake my head. Sawyer reminds me of Cuzzo, neither one of them let me get away with anything and neither are afraid to call me out. Nothing to lose or not, I’m so screwed.
Sawyer
Dammit, I wish the screen of my phone were bigger! There’s only so much zooming in and zooming out that my eyes can handle. From what I’ve learned from the Internet, two of the three leads are promising. Of course, I’m going off the White Pages online which I thought was only updated if people had a landline so I’m not entirely sure how accurate my research is. Either way, there’s a Dante Werner and Sam Ellington that still live around Memphis. I don’t think Dante is my father but I won’t leave any rock unturned on this journey.
Google has told me that Dean Sawyer lives in St. Louis and is a top attorney in the state. Every time I see the picture of the salt and pepper haired man, I can’t help but think he is my father. He has to be! With my name being Sawyer and that being his last name, maybe that was my mother’s way of paying homage to him. I’ve stared at his photo, searching from resemblances and I’m convinced that my mother just has very strong genes.
And even though I haven’t found my father, I’m already at peace. Peace that he wasn’t a piece of trash or a scumbag that ran off when he found out my mother was pregnant. All three of these men served in the military, they weren’t absent because they were scared, they were serving our country. This gives me serenity that my mother wasn’t left alone because of me. If the only number she had for Dean was to the VFW Hall and he got deployed, well, how was she supposed to find him?
A loud knock on the door interrupts my thoughts, followed by the sexy voice of Garrison Cocuzzo. Not a bad way to start my morning…
“Sawyer?” he calls out, still outside.
I unfold my legs from underneath me and walk to the front door, surprised that he didn’t just let himself in like the last two times he was here. I take a minute to soak in the rugged, sensual vibe he puts off as he stands there in a pair of jeans, a tattered old class of ‘08 t-shirt, and a pair of work boots. Maybe it’s because I haven’t had sex in awhile but I’m mentally doing everything I can to not rip that shirt off him.
“Why didn’t you just walk in like you usually do?” I ask, trying to use sarcasm as my defense mechanism in the moment.
He holds out a folder in my direction and rolls his eyes.
“What’s this?” I ask, glancing down at the papers inside the manila folder.
“Information on the names we found last night,” he says in a cocky way that makes me want to throw it all in the trash. He leans against the doorframe in a way that makes me want to punch him in the throat and make out with him at the same time.
“I’ve already found addresses for all of them, thank you very much,” I snip back at him, holding the folder out for him to take back.
Garrison lifts an eyebrow, standing up and nodding. “Fair enough. If you don’t want the info that my buddy from the Pentagon sent, you don’t have to use it.”
I physically feel my jaw drop and it feels like slow motion. “The… the Pentagon?” I squeak out.
A smirk comes to his lips as he shrugs. “Yeah, I know a guy.”
Not wasting another second, I run back to the couch, jumping on it at the same time I pull out the papers, eagerly skimming them to find information about the man who gave me life. Garrison follows behind me and I hear the door close. Out of the corner of my eye, I see him sit in the formal chair that is the most uncomfortable thing I’ve ever sat on. It seems perfect for his uptight attitude. Unfortunately, I’m too excited to actually focus on any of the information in front of me and I find myself just flipping papers.
“Dante Werner, born 1972 in Hannibal, Missouri. Joined the U.S. Army in 1990, served in the Gulf War, was honorably discharged after Operation Desert Storm. Currently married to Veronica with three sons, ages 22, 20, and 18.”
I look up at him in awe. “How… how did you memorize all that?”
He doesn’t answer my question. “Get dressed, we’re going to see him today.”
“Wh-what?!” I exclaim, glancing down and realizing I’m still in my pajamas. I jump up, only to be reminded that I’m not wearing a bra and I cross my arms over my chest. “I don’t even think he’s actually my father, I’m not going anywhere.”
“We have to start somewhere, Sawyer. Even if he isn’t your dad, it’ll give us practice for when we go to visit the other two.”
“One of them lives in St. Louis and his last name is Sawyer, like my name. I think we should visit him first,” I blurt out, trying to put off the visit to Dante. I want to find my father, I desperately do, but actually starting the search physically means the end is near and just like my mother’s death, I’m scared of the end.
“Dean Sawyer is on vacation until Monday so we’ll check out the first two then drive down Sunday. I already made an appointment to see him first thing Monday morning.”
“Garrison…” I whisper, tears welling in my eyes, overwhelmed at all that he’s done for me, a total stranger that I’ve been nothing but an ass to. Even after he held my hand in the VFW last night and touched my shoulder when I found Dean Sawyer’s name, I still have been nothing but bitchy to him.
He stands up, shoving his hands in his back pockets. “Yeah… go get ready. I’ll be in the Beast waiting for you.” He turns and walks back out the door he came in. Immediately, my tears wash away as I bite my bottom lip, enjoying the view of the tight denim stretched across his backside. Ugh, Garrison Cocuzzo, why did you walk into my life? Oh yeah… I ran over his only mode of transportation.