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“Last night was a mistake.”

“What?” Okay, that was the last thing Coy expected her to say. She retracted the hose and shut off the water, turning to face Sawyer. “You don’t mean that.”

“Don’t I?” Sawyer challenged, her stormy gaze flashing in warning.

“I don’t think so, no,” Coy stated softly. She stepped closer and touched Sawyer’s arm, sliding her fingers down to lace in the other woman’s. Her heart caught in her throat. “I think something happened last night, and now, you’re pulling away. Please Sawyer, don’t … don’t diminish what we have by calling it a mistake.”

Sawyer pursed her lips. “Your generation is entirely too sentimental.” She headed toward the kitchen's exit, bypassing the untouched bowl of porridge as if Coy making food for her meant nothing. And that just wouldn’t do.

“Go ahead, be stubborn, sweetheart,” Coy called out, racing after her. She caught Sawyer with one foot on the stairs and reached for her again. Their eyes met, and behind Sawyer’s stony facade, Coy could see the fear plain as day. “Lash out instead oftalking to me. Go ahead, I can take it, but please, eat. I know it’s not “Michelin star” worthy, but I took the time, and you need to take care of yourself. Hell, I’ll even get out of your hair, so you don’t need to glare and chew.”

Coy backed away from Sawyer, breathing hard as they stared at one another. It felt like she’d just done a five-hundred-yard sprint after being sedentary for too long. Her legs were rubbery, and she took two steps before stopping. With more courage than she thought possible, Coy closed the gap between them again and pulled Sawyer down for a kiss. “Last night wasnota mistake.” She brushed her thumb over Sawyer’s bottom lip, then forced her legs to move, not daring to look back as she left the house.

Chapter 35

Sawyer

For a long time,she stared at the closed door, half expecting McCoy to walk back in. And for just as long, she stared at that door, half expecting her feet to move on their own and run after her. Neither happened. Sawyer folded her arms across her midsection, pressing her lips together in a tight grimace.

“You can come out now.”

Bree appeared before her moments later from the direction of the living room with a sheepish look on her young face. Together, they returned to the kitchen, Sawyer sitting down at the island while Bree nuked her untouched breakfast.

“How’d you know I was listening in?” Bree set the bowl of porridge down in front of Sawyer, followed by a spoon and milk.

“You weren’t as sneaky as you thought growing up, and you’re still just as curious.” Sawyer gave her a wan smile, picking up her spoon. “Thank you, darling.”

“Maman, Coy loves you,” Bree said, hands on her hips now. She blew out a frustrated breath, a wayward strand of brown hair blowing off her face in the process. It was such a familiar gesture to Sawyer that she almost smiled.

Sawyer stirred the porridge, quietly replying, “McCoy has never been in a relationship before. She’s never had to work very hard for someone’s attention. It might seem like she loves me, but I doubt—”

“I can’t believe you’re gaslighting her right now. You, of all people.” Bree shook her head and snorted, looking nonplussed. “How utterly audacious of you. Papa would be proud.”

Sawyer sucked in a breath, Bree’s words acting like a knife to her already tremulous gut. Her spoon clattered to the counter. “Esti. Why would you say that?Mon amour, you have no idea. None whatsoever.”

“I know Papa was mean to you. He may not have hit you, not that I saw, but loveless words and abandonment go a long way,” Bree tearfully proclaimed. She clasped her hand over Sawyer’s arm, prying Sawyer’s blurry gaze from the countertop to her daughter’s. “I know that when Papa was drunk, he’d blame you for Brian’s death.”

“Bree Sophia.” Sawyer gasped, her hand flying up to cover her mouth.

A massive ball lodged itself in her throat. It was a struggle to make anything out behind the well of tears, so Sawyer turned her face away from Bree and let them fall. Dizziness overcame her, and for a second, she thought she might be sick. Burying her face in her shaking hands, faint images of a stillborn Brian fluttered through her memory like wings on a moth. Colorless and disappearing from her reach far too fast.

Muffled sobs filled the kitchen. Sawyer wasn’t sure if it was her or Bree, perhaps both. Arms wrapped around her, holding herfor all she was worth, and then Bree’s voice was hoarse against Sawyer’s ear.

“Je suis désolée, Maman. Tellement désolée.”

“You don’t know …” Sawyer whispered brokenly.

“I know it wasn’t your fault.”

But it was.Just like Olivier loved to remind her. Itwasher fault. If only she had taken better care … if she had rested more … fought with Olivier less …

“I shouldn’t have brought that up,” Bree sniffled. “I was wrong to do so. I just wanted you to see that Coy is nothing like Papa. Let her in,Maman. Let her love you. Let her help heal some of the broken inside you.”

“Bree …”

Bree pulled away, and fresh tears pooled in Sawyer’s eyes as her daughter cupped her cheek with one hand. She placed the other palm up over Sawyer’s heart. “You’re a force to be reckoned with. Everyone knows that. But only I know what’s really in here, hidden from the world. Not even Cindy and Lori know all of you because you hold them at arm’s length.Tu n’es pas fatigué, Maman?”

Sawyer swallowed, blinking past more tears. She nodded. “Tellement, mon amour.” Tired was an understatement. Life was exhausting … but mostly, she was tired of running from it. I don’t know how to stop.