CHAPTER 15
Garrison
I smile, listening to Sawyer explain to me why she can’t throw away a pot that I found in the attic. The old piece of metal is burnt worse than the inside of a fireplace, but Sawyer holds it against her chest, giggling hysterically at some kind of inside joke that only she understands.
“I can’t throw this away! My mother went to the grave never knowing what happened to this beloved pot of hers,” she says, clutching it against her like her firstborn child.
I’m already hunched over due to the low ceiling in the attic so it’s not much of a move when I bend over behind her, my hands on her shoulders. I give a slight squeeze and kiss her cheek. “I know it’s hard to get rid of things that were hers but Saw, your keep pile is far outgrowing your toss pile.”
She sighs, not letting of the handle. “I know but…” She waves her hands beside her, the pot like a magical wand in her fingers. “Everything there reminds me of her. I can tell you a story about each and every thing, and…” Sawyer pauses, wiping her eyes. “And once it’s all gone, then so is she.”
Taking a seat beside her on the dusty attic floor, I push my hand over her heart. Sawyer looks down, surprised at my touch so close to her breast and I realize maybe that wasn’t the best move on my part. Still, I pretend not to notice, and go on. “She’s never gone so long as you keep her close here.”
Sawyer smiles, taking her free hand and cupping my cheek. “You’re a wise one, Garrison Cocuzzo,” she teases me with a smile then asks seriously, “Have you ever lost anyone close to you?”
I shrug, pretending to be nonchalant. “Only person I’m close to is Cuzzo, and that old man will be around forever.”
Her smile fades as she shakes her head. “I doubt that. Haven’t you ever been in love?”
Sawyer’s eyes bore into mine and I quickly drop my gaze.
“Having your heart broken or falling out of love can hurt almost as much as physically losing someone,” she whispers, stroking my cheek with her thumb.
I scoff and look up. “I don’t think so. When your heart gets broken, you bounce back eventually, but when someone dies, they take a piece of your heart with you, a piece that you can’t get back.”
“Have you bounced back?” she asks in a whisper.
I clench my jaw, irritated that I inadvertently admitted that my heart has been broken. Trying to distract her from the topic and well, because I just plain want to, I lean toward Sawyer, touching my lips to hers. She lets out a contented sigh as her hand slides to the back of my head, gripping it tighter as our kiss deepens. I move my hand to the same place on her head, pulling her hair lightly as our tongues dance faster and our lips move slower. This is what I’ve wanted from day one of meeting Sawyer, and even though she seems to be enjoying this as much as I am, I hate that I’m kissing her as a tool of distraction. I don’t want that with Sawyer, I want to kiss her because I simply want to kiss her with no motivations. Sighing, I pull away and smile as Sawyer’s lips keep moving, not wanting to stop.
“You could say my heart’s been broken. Have I bounced back? Sure.” I answer that last part dryly, knowing that isn’t the full truth, but not wanting Sawyer to think I’m hung up on my ex. I’m not, not one bit. Clarissa was every bit stuck-up like my parents, and I honestly feel like I dodged a bullet when our relationship ended. Still, she did a number on me when it comes to trust issues, hence why I haven’t been in a relationship since her.
Sawyer nods, her lips turning up in a smirk. “Sure, you have,” she says tauntingly and stands up.
I watch her sway her hips, letting myself be distracted by her body so I don’t have to focus on her words. She stops at the top of the stairs and looks over at me, lifting one eyebrow.
“Not going to deny it again?”
Standing up, I walk over to her, sliding my hands over her hips and pulling her closer to me. “Think what you want, Sawyer, but I keep my distance from women for a reason that makes sense to me.”
She runs the back of her fingers over my cheek and smiles softly. “Not all women will hurt you, Garrison. It’s scarier than flying that jet of yours, but you have to put yourself out there time after time until you find the one that doesn’t hurt you anymore.” Softly, Sawyer kisses me, then pulls away and looks directly in my eyes. “I promise you, she’s out there.”
My stomach quenches because I know she is. I’m afraid she’s right in front of me and I don’t have the time to stick around to find out if Sawyer is the one woman who won’t hurt me like the one in my past.
Sawyer
The Beast sits silently as Garrison turned her off a good five minutes ago. I stare at the lightly illuminated sign that highlights the faded letters. My knee bounces up and down quickly, anxious for what waits on the other side of that door. Funny, this place houses the answer to my questions, but it also scares the crap out of me, too. His large hand covers mine and my fear washes away.
“Ready?” Garrison’s thick voice asks.
Looking over at him, his lips are highlighted in the dull streetlight. I bite my bottom lip, wondering if I could just sit here and kiss him all night. I doubt that he’d object, but I know it wouldn’t get me any further in the search for my father. As hard as it is to let go of my mother’s house and her belongings, I know I can’t leave this town without finding out who the other person was that gave me life. Once I leave here, I doubt I’ll ever find my way back to Memphis, Missouri.
Slowly, I nod my head that I’m ready to go. Garrison doesn’t waste any time. He jumps out of the car and runs around to my side of the vehicle, opening my door like a gentleman. I smile, wondering if Garrison and I will ever go on a real date. It’s crazy to think that just a few days ago, he wanted to kill me when I ran over his motorcycle and now, he’s like my emotional support animal… that I really like kissing.
Pulling the door open, Garrison takes my hand as I slide out of the car. I push on my tippy toes and kiss him softly. “Thank you,” I whisper.
He nods, linking his fingers with mine as we walk toward the VFW. We get to the front of the building and he squeezes his hand around mine tightly. I nod without looking at him, lifting my chin confidently as I tell myself I’m ready for whatever waits on the other side of this door. Garrison doesn’t hesitate as he pulls open the door, holding it open for me to enter first. I step into the dark room, looking around and pondering which man is Samuel Dean Ellington.
Scanning the room, I note that there’s only four men including the bartender Ed that we met the other night. Ed sits behind the counter, arms crossed but when the door clangs shut, he opens one eye. Seeing that it’s us, both eyes pop open and he waves us over frantically.
“Shit,” Garrison mutters.
I look up to see him nodding with a fake smile in Ed’s direction. My stomach flip flops and I squeeze Garrison’s hand. “What’s wrong?”
“I think he’s onto us for ‘borrowing’ those books,” he whispers as we cross the room toward the bar.
“Oh, no! Do you think we’re in trouble?” I ask, ready to divert my attention away from my mission. Perhaps this is the real reason I’m twenty-four with no clue who my father is. I don’t like confrontation; I don’t like the unknown so the maybe four times in my life that my mother mentioned my father, I passed on the opportunity to gain any more information on him, much like I’m doing now.
“Hey, Ed!” Garrison greets the bartender, sticking out his hand for a handshake.
Ed scoffs at the gesture and leans over the counter, whispering angrily. “When are you bringing those registers back? Old Man Dial said he saw Cuzzo’s grandson walk out of here the other night with a box. I might not seem to be paying attention, but I know what you took.”
I hold up my hands, shaking my head. “Wait a minute. Cuzzo is a veteran?” I’m asking out of genuine curiosity but also hoping to change the conversation. “How? Isn’t he blind?”
Garrison, catching on to my plan, lets out an exasperated sigh. “Now, he’s blind, but he hasn’t always been.”
“So, how’d he go blind?” I glance over at Ed, who seems to be irritated, yet interested at our conversation at the same time.
Garrison wears a smug smile. “His plane got shot down, piece of metal took out both his eyes.”
I gasp, partly playing up the news, but sincerely shocked that Cuzzo was a pilot, too. “You followed in your grandfather’s footsteps?”
His smile disappears, and I know his act is over. “Yeah, well, my father didn’t so someone had to take his place.”
I reach over, patting his hand gently then turning to Ed. “Could you get us both a Jack on the rocks?”
Our plan works as Ed nods and tends to the bar, forgetting about the misdemeanor crime we committed.
Garrison lifts an eyebrow. “You’re a whiskey drinker?”
I shrug. “Only when I’m stressed.”
Ed places the drinks in front of us and Garrison throws a twenty on the bar, picking up the glasses. We quickly escape from the bar keep and take a seat a couple tables away from the other three men in the building. We both sip our drinks, staring at the others and my stomach flip flops, wondering if I’m going to step up and actually find out which one is Samuel Dean Ellington.
“The one on the left has your eye shape,” Garrison says in a low voice as he takes a sip.
I scrunch my eyebrows and question, “My what?”
He looks up from his drink, turning his full attention to me. “You have a close eye set, so does the guy on the left.”
Pursing my lips, I fight back a smile. “You’ve looked at me that closely to know what kind of eyes I have?”
Garrison leans forward. “And what kind of nose, more like the guy in the middle, but if I had to guess, Ellington is the one in the middle because he’s got thin lips like yours.”
My mouth falls open, shocked that Garrison has my entire face memorized. My mind searches for the right words to say, but I’m tongue tied between questioning his observation skills and facing S. Dean Ellington.
Not looking away from me, Garrison clears his throat before he loudly states one word. “Ellington.”
My stomach drops as my cheeks flame red. The entire table beside us turns around, looking in our direction. Garrison cocks his eyebrow and gives a slight nod in their direction, leaving the floor open for me to take the next step.
I try to swallow the lump in my throat before I look at the table of three men. Inspecting each of their faces, I see a tiny bit of me in each of them just as Garrison described. Just as he said, the man in the middle has my mouth and very similar nose. There’s no way to tell if we share the same hair color since he’s bald. I stare at him, trying to picture my mother in this exact spot and wondering how she broke the ice.
“Yeah?” the middle man says when neither Garrison or I don’t say another word.
Garrison glances over at me then back to Ellington. “We wanted to buy you a drink, think we might have a friend in common.”
The man glances at his peers then shrugs as he stands up. Ed, paying close attention from the bar although he is back to his fake sleeping bit, brings over a refill of Sam’s drink as Sam takes a seat at our table. He picks up the glass, drinking half of it before wiping his lip and muttering, “thanks.” A chill runs down my spine as all the images of my father seem to come to fruition by the unrefined actions of the asshole sitting between myself and Garrison.
“You know Lana Kingham?” Garrison asks for me and I shoot him a look to show my appreciation.
Sam’s face goes white and he shakes his head. “Never heard of her,” he boldface lies.
I lean forward, my nerves gone and my fuse lit. “Bullshit!” I whisper yell, trying not to draw attention to us. “Your face says you do!”
Garrison reaches across the table, placing his hand on mine. The anger still boils through me, but I clench my jaw, keeping my mouth shut before I say anymore.
Sam looks over his shoulder and leans forward. “Look, I met Lana with Debbie Carroll like twenty years ago.”
“Twenty-four,” I mutter.
“Ah, shit…” Sam sputters. “You… you’re… Debbie your mom?”
I shake my head, irritated and confused. “No, Lana is… was,” I correct myself, hating that I have to speak of my mother in the past tense now.
Sam lets out a long sigh and a short chuckle. “Thank goodness.”
Unable to contain my anger, despite Garrison’s hand on mine, I lean toward Sam. He reaches for his drink, but I snatch it from him before he can. “What the hell does that mean?”
Sam straightens up, getting serious. “Look, I’m married. I was married the night I met Debbie and Lana. I don’t remember much about that night, I probably drank a bit too much, but that was a long time ago. I’m not going to let some mistake from the nineties ruin my family life today.”
“Are you fuc—” I start but Garrison cuts me off.
“Are you saying you had relations with them that night?”
Sam laughs nervously, pulling at the collar of his work shirt. “I wish I was that lucky.”
“That’s my mother!” I scream at him and the other men turn around and stare at us, but I don’t care in this moment.
“So, what exactly happened?” Garrison asks, trying to keep the conversation moving.
Sam stands up, shaking his head. “I don’t have to answer your questions.”
I jump up, stepping between him and his table. “I have to know if you’re my father,” I state plain and simple.
His face turns bright red and he drops his voice down low. “If your mother is Lana then there’s no chance. Debbie on the other hand, well, that’s another story. Look, I’m begging of you, please let that go. We’ve all moved on, there’s no sense in bringing up the past to ruin the present.”
Hot tears that feel like lava burn in my eyes as Sam steps around me and rejoins his buddies. Garrison grabs me by the hand, throwing money on the table for Sam’s drink then pulling me toward the front door. My feet feel like lead and I want nothing more than to shrink down to the size of an ant, where no one can see me and maybe the pain I feel in the current moment wouldn’t hurt as much either.