CHAPTER 8
Garrison
Tugging at the collar of my shirt, I unbutton it even more, leaving the top three undone now. It’s bad enough when I have to wear my Navy service uniform which is why I never wear button-up shirts when I’m not on duty. However, where I’m going tonight, I feel obligated to wear one even if I don’t have to. I shake my head as I knock on Sawyer’s front door, this damn shirt is just one more thing I’m doing for her that I normally wouldn’t do for anyone else. I run my hand down my face and push away the questions of why I’m so drawn to her.
Knocking louder so I don’t have to be alone with my thoughts, I lean over and look in the front window. Not nearly as loud as earlier, I faintly hear classical music playing from somewhere inside the house but this time, there’s no Sawyer in sight. Moving my hand to the doorknob, I turn it and the door easily pops open. Shaking my head, I mutter a profanity under my breath at the way she leaves herself so vulnerable.
I call out her name softly, not wanting to startle her and also not wanting to interrupt her either. She’s a dancer and if she’s in the zone, that’s not something I want to disturb. I know the feeling all too well, I’m the same way when I’m up in the air, completely in the zone. When someone’s rambling in my ear about nothing of importance, I want to scream them to shut the fuck up so I can enjoy the adrenaline racing through me at top speeds. However, most of the time, I just grit my teeth and keep my thoughts to myself. Finally, she comes into my view in the middle of the living room and I pause, not wanting to bother her for a completely different reason this time.
Sawyer sits on the floor in front of me, her back to me. She leans over, parallel to the floor as her legs are wide apart in the splits. The only thing keeping extremely dirty thoughts away is the small pair of hot pants she’s wearing that covers her perfectly round derriere as she stretches her arms in the middle of her legs. Part of me wants to cringe at the idea of doing that move myself while the other half of me can’t tear my eyes away from the flexibility and what she could do—
Sensing my presence, Sawyer looks over her shoulder in my direction. Her eyes go wide as she sits up and yells at me. “What the hell are you doing here?! Don’t you ever knock?”
“Don’t you ever lock your door?” I scoff, taking a step toward her to adjust myself down below.
“Why should I? It’s Memphis, Missouri, nothing ever happens here.”
“Any man looking through the window and got a view of you, he’d…” I trail off, my cheeks heating up as I wish I’d never started the sentence.
Sawyer bends her knees, turning toward me and holding her hands out. Shaking my head, I close the space between us, holding out my hand to help her up. On her feet, Sawyer squeezes her palm against mine and raises an eyebrow. My body deceives me as my manhood dances at her smallest movement.
“He’d what, Garrison?”
Her voice is full of confidence, not backing down from me at all and son of a bitch if I’m not even more turned on. I drop her hand, shoving my hands in my back jean pockets and trying to look anywhere than her mesmerizing eyes and her hot little body, not to mention trying to forget about the position I saw her in when I walked through the door.
Sawyer gives a little laugh and saunters off toward her phone, turning the volume down. “You’re dressed up tonight. Got a date with Cookie?”
I ball my fists, irritated that she’s bringing up that damn dog again. “Change clothes,” I demand, forgetting that I’m not in the Navy right now.
Sawyer spins around to face me, her jaw dropped and her hands on her hips. “Excuse me?”
I sigh. “Sorry,” I mumble. “Get changed. I’m taking you to the number on the card.”
The frustration melts away from her face and is replaced with shock. “My father? You found him?” she manages to whisper.
I shake my head, pulling at my collar again and wishing I’d just told her where to go. Instead, I got dressed up, thinking I had to be the one to take her there, the fuckin’ knight in shining armor. Why can’t I just walk away from her?
“It’s not a person the number belongs to but a place.”
Sawyer eyebrows twist in confusion. “What does that even mean?”
“Can you please just change clothes and I’ll take you there?” I plead, sounding a bit more demanding than intended.
Sawyer pauses then begins bobbing her head up and down rapidly. Spinning on her heel, she bounds up the stairs, calling after me as she does. “What should I wear? Where are we going? Do you think he’ll be here?” She pauses for a breath then looks down at me from the top of the stairs. “Come on, Garrison, I need your help!”
I groan as I start up the stairs. I’ve been in Sawyer’s bedroom once and I don’t think it’s a good idea I go in there again. Yet here again, I find myself doing something for this woman that I know is not in my best interest. I’m just going to wind up with a case of blue balls at the end of the night and I have a feeling she isn’t going to be happy either because I know her father won’t be there tonight.
“What should I wear? It has to be perfect… this one?” She holds up a red and yellow floral sundress. “Or maybe this one?” In her other hand is a little black dress that I wish I’d never seen because now I’m picturing Sawyer in it. She keeps holding up dresses, asking for my opinion, or at least pretending to, not that I think she really cares what I think.
Sighing, I lean back against the dresser, crossing my arms as I watch this parade of dresses and skirts thrust on the bed in front of me. Being in a woman’s bedroom, picturing clothes on or off her is always a horrible idea. My cock already aching, I step forward, taking Sawyer by the hand and leading her toward the closet.
“What are you doing?” she asks, irritated that I’ve interrupted her fashion show.
Dropping her hand because it’s doing nothing but causing more distraction in my pants by touching her, I take a hanger that’s holding a dress I could see from across the room. It’s a faded light blue and white striped dress with spaghetti straps. The dress is floor length but slits up to the knee, giving the slightest peek of skin while the top drops to a V between the breasts. One simple strap wraps around the waistline for the finished garment.
Sawyer turns up her nose. “This is something my mom would wear, it’s not even mine.”
I raise an eyebrow as she states the obvious. “And who are we going to try to find…”
Sawyer’s eyes light up as she connects the dots. “This is perfect! Maybe it was even what she was wearing the night they met.”
She throws her arms around my neck, taking me by surprise. Instinctively, my arms slide around her small frame, pulling her tighter against me the way I have wanted to do since we got off that motorcycle. I enjoyed having her close to me then and I feel the same way right now.
“Thank you, Garrison,” she says in a breathy whisper into my ear.
My body is enjoying her a bit too much in the moment and I don’t want her to notice. Quickly, I jump away from her and nod. I like seeing her like this, happy and content, which is why my stomach sinks because I’m not sure this road is going to lead to the happily ever after she wants.
Sawyer
Garrison parks the Beast in the town square. Leaning forward, I look out the front window, peering at each shop and wondering if maybe there are apartments above the storefronts. My stomach sinks at I scan the signs for the two funeral homes that are housed on the square. What if my father is an embalmer? What if he saw my mother after her accident? What if the last memory he has of her was on the worst day of her life? What if— I shake my head, I can’t let my mind go to that dark place again. My mother is gone, she’s not coming back, and it’s my mission to find the missing piece of the puzzle that completes my life. This is a good thing, this is closure for both her and me… or maybe it’s just the beginning, who knows?
The square is dark, not a single light on which leads me to believe that there is no apartment above any of these stores. I look over at Garrison who is looking a bit uptight as he stares out the front of the window, his hands gripping the wheel. I reach over to touch him in an effort to comfort him but I stop myself mid touch, wondering if he’s playing some kind of nasty trick on me.
“What the hell is this, Garrison? Did you lie to me?” I demand, my voice getting higher with each word as I try to swallow the lump in my throat and tears threaten to fall.
Immediately, he’s snapped out of his trance. He turns his direction to me, shaking his head slowly. “I didn’t lie. I know the phone number but it’s not to one person.”
“What the hell does that even mean?” My cheeks flush, irritated that Garrison let me get so excited, knowing he wasn’t taking me directly to my father. “Explain yourself!”
He doesn’t say a word, just turns his gaze away from me to the outer edge of the town square. I lean forward, trying to block his view but he doesn’t acknowledge me. I let out a loud huff, looking where he is when I see the flickering light about the old VFW Hall. My grandfather who served in Vietnam took me there as a kid, I remember ordering a Shirley Temple and thinking I was such a big girl when I was there with him. It’s been years since I’ve been there and even longer since I’ve thought about that place.
“The number on the card was the VFW Hall. I asked my grandfather about it. His theory is that your mom met this guy and he gave her the number to the VFW since it was before cell phones. So, no, I don’t know exactly who wrote that number on the deuce of hearts but this is at least a start.”
He slowly turns to look at me, almost cautiously and my icy demeanor melts. He isn’t quite the asshole I thought he was in the beginning. The urge to cry gets stronger and I quickly shake my head, hoping to clear the tears away, too.
“Thank you,” I whisper around the growing lump in my throat.
He nods. “Cuzzo said to ask for his buddy, Ed, that he might be able to help us out. You ready to go in?”
Taking a deep breath, I slowly move my head up and down. It’s now or never. If I want to finish the puzzle, I have to start from the beginning which apparently started here at the Veterans of Foreign Wars Post 4958. The spark that flew between a man and a woman twenty-four years ago that created me was inside the building I’m not standing in front of. My stomach flips and a rush of adrenaline races through me. I reach out and slip my hand into Garrison’s as he pulls open the door. Briefly, he glances over his shoulder at me before squeezing his hand into mine. Here goes nothing…