It feels like that’s not all there is, but I’ll take what they’re giving. I don’t need all the details. What I needed to know was that there isn't anything fundamentally wrong with Sawyer, or me liking Sawyer.
One hurdle cleared.
The second one looms in front of me. Sawyer carries with him an obvious pain, elastic enough to allow him to stretch forward in my direction, but sufficiently tight to keep him bound to the source.
The more interactions I have with him, the more I’m hoping something comes along and takes scissors to it.
8
Sawyer
I love this.
Sweat pouring off me in streams, my hair matted to my head, ungentlemanly grunts filling the air. Leon, my trainer, holds the bag for me.
Jab, cross, uppercut, cross, hook.
"Again," Leon barks.
Generally speaking, I don't do well taking orders, but I like Leon. I even respect the guy. So I do it all again.
We finish up, and I capture the strap on my glove with my teeth, ripping apart the Velcro.
"You did good," Leon says, walking beside me to the locker room. "There was a little extra oomph in there today. What was that about?"
I remove my gloves and curl and flex my fingers. "I think you're imagining things."
"Sure, man." Leon chuckles, making sure I know he doesn't believe me. He nods his goodbye and peels off, going in the opposite direction.
I take my time in the shower, thinking over what Leon said.
He is not imagining anything. I've been trying to get a certain female out of my mind since I saw her, and that's a real problem for me. I love Brea, even if she's gone. Emptiness and anguish easily bleed into one another, and I’ve been immersed in them for so long. They are familiar. Pain is painful, obviously, but it can also be comforting. While it hurts to hold on to Brea, it also keeps her close. I cannot have one without the other.
But then… Jessie. Her bold strength disarms me, and in her presence I feel discomfort. She shakes the hold I have on my heart, the sadness I use to keep the memories of my wife at the forefront of my mind.
Waylon told me her family calls herCalamity. The nickname couldn't be more accurate.
What she’s doing to my heart and my mind and my soul, the way she’s challenging all three simply by virtue of entering my life?
I know, beyond a shadow of a doubt, the results could be calamitous.
I makemy way back to Sierra Grande. Leon's boxing gym is located in a nearby town, and though Sierra Grande has a gym, I prefer the physicality of boxing.
I skipped coffee this morning, so I stop at Marigold’s on my way to my office. I'm standing in my open passenger door, digging my wallet from my gym bag, when I hear my name. I turn around and watch Jo and Wyatt approach. Jo smiles wide, so cheery and trusting, but Wyatt is much stingier with his greeting. Per usual.
"Hey, Jo." I give her a wave. "Wyatt," I extend a hand. He shakes it, ducking his chin at me in lieu of actual words.
"What are you up to?" Jo asks.
"I got in a workout at the boxing gym and decided to stop for coffee on my way to work. You?"
She beams. "We were at the high school watching Travis accept an academic award, and we grabbed coffee after."
"Proud parent moment," I respond.
Wyatt touches Jo's forearm and says, "Are you going to tell him about the water situation?"
I train my eyes on Jo. “What water situation?"
