But that wasn’t what I’d come here for, and I knew we didn’t have much time to talk before he had to get back to work. I said, “About my mother—”
“There’s no excuse for me saying that,” he burst out.
“No!” I exclaimed. “She shouldn’t have said that to you.”
“She should be able to say anything she wants to me. Usually customers can. I don’t react.”
I found this hard to believe, knowing Sawyer. “Do you save it all up and release it at school?”
“Yes,” he said. “But I wasn’t expecting you tonight. I saw you come in, and I haven’t been able to think straight since.”
He was looking into my eyes and admitting that he liked me. My gaze drifted to the blond stubble on his cheeks, and then to his lips, which looked soft.
Reminding myself how little time we had, I slid my hand onto his. “My mother’s powerful at her bank. According to everything I’ve heard, she’s kind and fair to her employees. But you know the saying. A man in that position gets called the boss. A woman in that position gets called a bitch. I’ve been called a bitch at school just because I took charge or expressed my opinion, so I know how she feels.”
Sawyer swallowed and nodded.
“And maybe she saves it all up and releases it at home,” I mused. “You had no way of knowing this, but when you mentioned that she might want to see the wine label instead of my dad, you definitely hit a sore spot.”
“And then your dad and your brother laughed,” Sawyer said. “I know. I never meant for that to happen. I’ve just had female customers react that way before. I’ve learned to stand back and read people so I can head off anybody getting angry or embarrassed. I thought I’d gotten good at it. I have. I know I have.” He glanced sidelong at me. “You’re jamming my radar.”
“Sorry,” I said softly.
Pulling his hand out from under mine, he stood, paced to the porch railing, and turned to face me. “What is she going to do to me? I blurted that dumb shit about the police chief, and suddenly I saw my life flash before my eyes. She could turn me in. I could lose my job. I won’t be able to get another job serving alcohol at this age, and that’s where I make most of my money in tips. My brother could lose his job for convincing the owner to hire me. Hold on.” He pulled his phone out of his back pocket. It hummed and vibrated in his hand. “Oh, holy fuck,” he said to the screen, “really? Now?” He pocketed it again without answering it.
“What’s the matter?” I asked, alarmed. “Who is it?”
“My mother.” Sawyer had a way of conveying loathing in his voice, but I’d never heard him sound quite so disgusted.
“In Georgia?” I checked.
“Yes.”
“You don’t answer her?”
“No.”
I realized something. “Did she call you last night in the van?”
He looked at the porch ceiling, remembering. “Yes.”
“Does she call you a lot?”
“Yes.”
“When’s the last time you talked to her?”
“Two years ago, when I left Valdosta.” When I gaped at him, he said, “She only wants money.”
I was having a very hard time understanding Sawyer’s world. “What if she’s calling about something else?” I reasoned.
“She’d call my brother. I know, you’re thinking, ‘You should send your mom money if she needs it,’ but I’m just done with her. I mean, I voluntarily came to live with my father as soon as he got out of prison. That’s how bad it was with my mother.”
I frowned at him. “Wait. I thought you moved in with your father because your mother couldn’t handle you anymore.”
He huffed an exasperated sigh. “Who told you that?”
“Several people. Tia.”
He squinted at me. “I may have said that to Tia before I really knew her. My first day in town, it got around school that my dad had been to jail. Assholes were picking on me. I hit first so nobody would hit me. That seemed to work, so I started cultivating a tough-guy rep. See how great it works? Arrrrrrrg,” he moaned with his head in his hands. “Fuck everybody.”
I’d heard him say that before too, but he hadn’t sounded this lost.
He looked up at me. “Everyone but you.”
“Aw,” I said. “That’s sweet, I guess.” I got up and walked over to him. He was staring at the floor again. I put my hand under his chin and lifted his head until he looked at me. “My mother’s not going to turn you in, Sawyer. That was never her intention. Being critical is her way of making small talk.” I was realizing this for the first time as I said it.
He removed my hand from his face and held it loosely between us, looking doubtfully at me.
“She grew up poor,” I said.
Sawyer gave a short nod. He needed no further explanation.
But I wanted to give him one, to show him I wasn’t completely ignorant of what this meant. “When Barrett and I were younger and she got mad at us for not working hard enough in school or refusing to eat enough dinner, she packed us in the car and drove us across town to gawk at where she grew up.” Actually, I was the one she always got mad at, but she often made Barrett go too, in case my bad attitude had rubbed off on him.
Sawyer gave me the mad scientist face I loved, raising one eyebrow and lowering the other. “That’s heavy.”