Page 34

Chapter 34

McCoy

Later that morning, Coy found herself rummaging through Sawyer’s kitchen as she tried to locate a lighter for the propane stove. The beginnings of her nana’s special porridge recipe rested in a pot beside the stove. “Oh, lighter. Come out, come out wherever you are,” Coy sang under her breath, opening another cupboard. She had a headache, and she still needed coffee. In Sawyer’s big, fancy kitchen with all the gadgets in the world, there wasn’t a percolator in sight.

A giggle sounded behind her, and then a sleepy voice said, “It's a gas stove, so … just turn the knob.”

Coy turned to see Bree mid-yawn, clad in an oversized hoodie and baggy drawstring pajama pants. Patches wasn’t too far behind, butting her head against the back of Bree’s leg. “Ah, thanks, you’re a lifesaver.”

“No prob. Whatcha making?” Bree yawned again, padding her way to the way-too-modern-for-Coy espresso machine. “Want an Americano or latte or something?”

“Uh …” Coy racked her sleep-addled brain, trying to remember what she’d had at Abi’s all those weeks ago. Scratching her head when nothing came to mind, she shrugged. “Whatever you can make that’s not too sweet, thanks.”

“Sure.”

Coy got the stove going the first try, and immediately felt like a fool for not thinking to do that first. Lack of sleep had her barely functioning without caffeine. “I’m making my nana’s famous porridge recipe. Me and Sloane practically grew up on this stuff. Figured you and your mom might like it.”

“Well, thank you. I know I’ll appreciate it. Who can say for sure about Maman ? So far, she’s choked down any porridge I’ve given her.”

Coy smiled, accepting the wooden spoon Bree handed her. “Yeah, I think she’d prefer a cinnamon roll. She doesn’t really like change, does she?”

The delicious aroma of coffee filled the kitchen as Bree fiddled with the machine. She tossed a smirk in Coy’s direction. “Says the one who spent the night in Maman’s bed.”

Coy blushed, turning back to the porridge. She made sure the burner setting was on high before going on a hunt for the eggs. Patches met her at the fridge, rubbing her head against Coy’s bare leg and meowing. Coy was more of a dog person, but she had to admit the calico was a cutie.

“C’mere girl, let’s get some breakfast into you,” Bree said, scooping Patches up. She kissed her head, strolling over to the walk-in pantry for the calico’s food. “You’re right, though,” Bree added, glancing up at Coy as she opened a can. “ Maman doesn’t like change and hates surprises. But you’re a bit of both, and by the looks of things, she’s adjusting.”

Coy considered that. Had Sawyer been adjusting by allowing Coy to touch her? When she’d woken with Sawyer still in her arms, it had taken everything in Coy not to stay put. Nothing had ever felt more right than a naked Sawyer draped over her, fast asleep.

But what happened at the end?

Coy had her suspicions. During scenes with Frankie, Coy would sometimes get so overstimulated that she became a sobbing mess. When that happened, she begged Frankie to let her come. She knew a lot about the raw emotions that came with it, too, but she and Sawyer hadn’t been doing a scene. Hell, if their intimacy had to be categorized, Coy would say it was pretty damn passionate. She’d never wanted to make love to anyone before, and yet, taking her time with Sawyer came naturally. It’d been perfect until Sawyer panicked.

I’ve only been with Olivier, Sawyer had mentioned.

If Coy’s suspicions were correct, then the loathsome late husband had never taken the time to properly please his wife. But what about masturbation? Had Sawyer never made herself come before?

“So,” Bree said, bringing Coy’s attention back to their conversation. She set a coffee down beside Coy. “Is this where I’m supposed to ask what your intentions are with Maman ?”

Coy smiled, not looking at Bree as she lowered the burner setting and cracked eggs into the pot of porridge. “You could, yeah.” She stirred in the eggs before setting the spoon down. “Do you have frozen fruit I can add in?”

“Yep.” Bree climbed off the stool and went to the freezer, retrieving a bag of mixed fruit moments later. When she sidled up beside Coy, she examined her closely, studying her eyes.

Coy’s cheeks heated under Bree’s intensity. “Is that your way of asking?” An awkward laugh escaped her, and she broke the weird eye contact to pull the porridge off the burner.

“I don’t need to, but I will thank you.” Bree wrapped an arm around Coy’s shoulders, kissing her cheek. “When do you plan on telling her?”

“Oh, I um,” Coy cleared her throat. Her heart was in her throat as she slipped past Bree for a bowl. Was she referring to Coy’s feelings for Sawyer? Was she that obvious? She took the fruit, emptying some in the bowl before placing it in the microwave. Fresh fruit in her nana’s porridge just wasn’t the same as frozen. “Where can I find chocolate chips?”

“You’re deflecting, but it’s okay. I just, I really like you, Coy.” Bree handed her the bag of chocolate chips, and for the first time, Coy noticed the shyness in her. She looked like a young, shorter version of Sawyer standing beside Coy, but with Olivier’s eyes and hair. “I don’t want you to up and disappear after your job is done.”

“Never,” Coy promised, her throat swelling with emotion. She pulled Bree into a hug, murmuring, “You’re incredible. No matter what, I’ll always just be a call away if you or your mom need anything. Besides, I still need to get you out on the trail with me and Sloane.”

“And J.D.?” Bree blurted and flushed adorably.

“Oh, I see how it is,” Coy teased, ruffling Bree’s hair affectionately. “You’ve been creeping his Insta, haven’t you?”

“He’s single.”

“Mm-hmm. So does that mean you’ll be sticking around, then?” Coy asked, leaning against the counter and opening the bag of chocolate chips. She shook a few out in her palm, watching Bree pull bowls out of the cupboard.

“Maybe. It’s nice being close to Maman again. I’d missed her, missed my friends, you know?”

“Yeah, that’d be hard,” Coy agreed, wiping her hands off. Bree helped her plate the porridge, laughing when Coy insisted the chocolate chips had to go on the bottom of the bowls. Then the porridge with a dollop of butter, the fruit, shredded coconut, and finally, a sprinkle of brown sugar.

“This isn’t fair,” Bree complained, hip-checking Coy as she grabbed her bowl to take to the table. “Of course, Maman will love your porridge. It’s not bland and super-duper healthy like mine was.”

“It’s totally healthy … ish.” Coy grinned, sitting down with Bree as well. “Be healthier with dark chocolate, I suppose, but not nearly as good.”

“Definitely.” Bree took a bite of the porridge, and her eyes widened in surprise. “This is actually really good, Coy.”

“You doubted my nana?” Coy feigned disbelief. Patches jumped on the table with them, and Bree shooed her away.

Sawyer entered the kitchen, already showered and dressed in business attire. Coy’s mood sank a little as she took in her lover, noting the aloof mask was back on display.

Even after we—

“Good morning, Bree. McCoy.” Sawyer glanced between Coy and Bree and cleared her throat. “I assumed you’d left already.”

“Ahh, no,” Coy replied slowly, her gaze trained on Sawyer as she went to the espresso machine. She hardly recognized this woman from the one she’d made love to just hours earlier. “I made breakfast. And it’s Sunday, so no work if I can help it. I’ll head over to my pop’s in a little bit to watch the game, though.” She glanced at Bree, who was watching their exchange intently. “Do you like baseball?”

“I don’t know enough about it to say one way or another,” Bree admitted, frowning in her mother’s direction. She quickly finished her breakfast and carried her bowl to the sink. “Good morning, Maman ,” she murmured, rubbing Sawyer’s back. “Are you okay? Peu importe ce qui se passe, tu as besoin de lui en parler. Je vais vous donner du temps seul.”

One of Coy’s eyebrows shot up at Bree’s obvious attempt to speak privately to Sawyer. What better way to do it if Coy didn’t understand a lick of French?

Gonna have to change that. Duolingo, here I come.

“What was that about?” she asked when Bree left the kitchen.

“Nothing.” Sawyer still didn’t look at her. She was pouring frothy milk into her mug, a stiffness to her shoulders that Coy would have spotted a mile away. She sighed, standing with her empty bowl and mug and dropping them into the sink just as Bree had done.

“Is this about last night?” Needing to busy herself, Coy grabbed the sprayer attachment and began rinsing off the dishes.

“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 of talking 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 was not a 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.