Chapter 16
Savvy
“Tell me he’s talking out of his ass.”
With all my heart I was hoping Jeff Sanchuk was yanking my chain, but one look at the expression on my father’s face is enough.
“Oh my God, Dad. Seriously?”
I waited for Warren to escort Sanchuk inside the station so he can be booked for the night, and as soon as the door closed behind them, I turned to my father, who’d already been exiting his truck.
I can’t believe we’re having this showdown in the department parking lot, but Dad is the one who chose to ignore my suggestion he go home and followed me back instead.
“Let me explain, Toots,” he pleads, lifting his hands in an effort to settle me down, but I’m afraid it’s already too late for that.
“Don’t Toots me. Not fucking now.” I press my eyes closed and inhale through my nose in an effort to regain some control. “Let me see if I can get this straight. You didn’t like who I was hanging out with, and you got your lackey to put the thumbscrews on Nate and chase him out of town.”
“It wasn’t like that.”
I laugh bitterly at his response.
“Wasn’t it, Dad? For someone who spent his entire adult life proudly representing this badge and upholding the law, I find it rather ironic to discover you were so willing to defy that badge and break your precious law to get rid of an innocent man, whose only crime was loving your daughter.”
He looks genuinely shocked at my diatribe as he shakes his head.
“What? That’s not…I never—”
“Oh, come on,” I yell in his face, feeling out of control. “You threatened to throw him in jail over something he didn’t do. How can you even justify that to yourself?”
“Savvy,” Dad starts in a placating tone. “As far as I knew, Nathan stole a total of seventeen thousand dollars in jewelry and cash. He already had a juvenile record and would’ve gone to jail for a substantial amount of time.”
“Except you were wrong; Nate didn’t steal anything.”
He shakes his head and stares at the building behind me. He looks old, sad, and tired, but I’m having a hard time right now conjuring up much sympathy. I’m too angry, it’s boiling my blood and making me sick at the same time.
I love my dad—worship him—he’s been my rock and my mainstay for so long, this sense of betrayal is almost too painful to bear. The disappointment I feel cuts deep on so many levels.
“I believed he did, Savvy,” Dad explains softly. “I was trying to keep him from landing in jail and you throwing your life away, pining for him. Sanchuk said he had him dead to rights. I should’ve asked to see the evidence, but I had no reason to doubt Jeff at the time.”
“And pegging Nate as the bad guy fit your narrative better,” I add bitterly.
“Look, I’m sorry. I screwed up.”
“Yeah, you did. Big time. What was done to Nate is beyond unfair, and for what? Why the hell does Sanchuk have such a hard-on for him? It doesn’t make sense.”
“Have you asked Gaines?”
My temper sparks and I fix angry eyes on my father.
“His name is Nathan, and no, not specifically. I haven’t spoken to him since finding out Sanchuk wasn’t acting alone.”
However, I will be speaking with him as soon as he’s sufficiently recovered, and I’ve had a chance to question Jeff Sanchuk. Sober.
But first I need a break: a meal, and hopefully some sleep.
I turn to head back to my vehicle when a thought strikes me, and I turn to look at my father over my shoulder.
“You know what’s funny though, Dad? Nate never once mentioned your name.”
Nate
I’ve never been this fucking bored in my entire life.
There’s only so much walking the halls I can do in this small regional hospital, and if I’m gonna spend forty-eight hours mostly in bed, I can think of a lot more fun ways to do that than by myself in this drab room.
Had a lot of time to think though, which isn’t always a good thing.
Doubts creep in, self-recriminations, rehashing shit I can’t possibly change at this point in time.
There’s no one to talk to, other than whatever nurse pops in to check my vitals.
Tate stopped in for a visit yesterday with Roy, but after half an hour I started dozing off, and they hurried to get out of this depressing room.
The whole weekend, Savvy has been a big no-show.
All in all, I’m not in the finest of moods when Doc Wilson finally shows his face, this afternoon’s nurse following him into the room.
“Mr. Gaines. I hear you’re doing well.”
He doesn’t get more than a grunt from me, which he seems to take in stride.
“Excellent. This morning’s blood work looks good,” he continues. “No more dizziness? Blurry vision?”
“No.”
“What about the headaches?”
“Mostly gone.”
“Fabulous. Let me have a quick peek at the bump on your head.”
I turn the back of my head toward him and he lightly palpates the swelling that formed there. It’s a little sore, but I’ll bite off my tongue before I mention that to him. I want out of this bed.
“Still a bit swollen, it looks like a bit of fluid buildup under the skin from aggravated soft tissue. I expect it to disappear over time. There were no markers to indicate a possible infection in your blood work, and I don’t see any excessive redness around the wound either.”
He moves to the foot end of the bed and flips through my chart, marking something with a pen before handing it to the nurse.
“If you could get Mr. Gaines discharge papers ready? Include a flyer on wound care and a list of things for him to look out for relating to his concussion.”
I almost do a fist pump when he turns back to me.
“You’re good to go, my friend. Be smart and don’t rush back to work. I want you to take it easy for at least this coming week. Come and see me Friday for a quick checkup, and I’ll take those staples out as well.”
He shakes my hand and leaves the room, but when the nurse catches me swinging my legs out of bed, she stops me.
“Not so fast. It’s gonna take me a while to get the paperwork done, so sit tight. I still have to finish rounds with Doc Wilson before I can get to it, and you need to find someone to take you home.”
Shit.
Who the hell am I going to call? I go over the limited number of people I’ve interacted with since I’ve been back, but there really is only one person I’d feel relatively comfortable asking. I don’t want her to feel put on the spot though—I know she’s busy—so I send a text instead.
Hate to bother you, but any chance you could give me a ride home from the hospital?
I hope that gives her enough room to say no. I hate asking.
Of course, I start overthinking when I don’t hear from her immediately.
Something I tend to do when I have too much time on my hands, like the entirety of the past two days.
My mind shuts up when my hands are busy.
I’ve been called a workaholic before, told I need to take a break, but in truth I can’t handle sitting still for very long, and this weekend has been taxing on me.
I’m recounting the holes in the ceiling tiles when, finally, my phone pings with an incoming message.
When?
Wow. That’s rather…curt.
Half an hour.
At least I hope the paperwork will be ready by then. The urge to add something is too great and I quickly add a message.
Totally fine if you don’t have time.
This time her message is instantaneous.
I’ll be there.
Yeah, definitely curt. I’m trying to think back whether I did or said something to piss her off, or if she is just preoccupied with work. Of course, I’m sure that’s what it is.
See? There goes my mind again. Jesus Christ, I make myself sick.
I’m dressed in borrowed scrubs, the clothes I’d been wearing Friday cut and bloodied in a plastic bag, with my discharge papers in hand when Savvy walks into the room. My concern is instantly spiked; she does not look good.
“Why didn’t you tell me?” are her first words to me.
When I don’t immediately clue in to what she’s talking about she adds, “That my father was part of it, why didn’t you tell me?”
Oh, I know what she is referring to now, talk about coming out of left field. I’m not sure how to respond to that. I don’t even know how she found out, because I wouldn’t have brought it up. For what? It would only hurt her, probably even more now than back then.
But however she found out, she’s looking for answers.
“When, then or now?”
“Does it matter?” She sounds aggravated.
“I think it does. I didn’t feel like I had much of a choice back then.
Plus, what would’ve been the purpose? It’s not like it would’ve changed the outcome, and I didn’t want to hurt you more than you would be already, which I knew you would be had you known.
I guess I did have a choice this time, but the question would remain the same; to what purpose?
It wouldn’t change anything about the fifteen years behind us.
All it could do was hurt the future of your relationship with your father. ”
The stubborn set of her chin is in stark contrast with the tears she is furiously trying to blink from her eyes.
“I’m not about hurting anyone, Savvy,” I add.
“I see that,” she shares. “But both you and my dad are so hung up on doing what you think is best for me, protecting me, but neither of you bothers to stop and ask me. You see it as something noble, when in reality it makes me feel incompetent, insignificant, and small.”
Her words are a rude awakening; a bucket of ice water to my ego.
Hers is a perspective I would never have considered, which only goes to show how much my protective instincts are about me, and much less about her.
“Are you ready?”
The nurse interrupts when she pushes a wheelchair into the room.
“Is that really necessary?” is my knee-jerk reaction, which earns me a raised eyebrow from Savvy. “Never mind,” I quickly follow it up with, taking a seat in the damn thing.
Nobody speaks until I’m settled in the passenger seat and Savvy slides behind the wheel of her cruiser.
“My father claims he was told you were responsible for those thefts.”
Her eyes are focused on the road, but I can tell she is eager for my reaction.
“I didn’t know that, but I guess it wouldn’t surprise me,” I tell her honestly. “Your father stayed behind the wheel of his cruiser when Sanchuk confronted me, so he was out of earshot. Besides, Sanchuk had it in for me for years.”
“Why? What did you ever do to him?”
I scoff. “Other than exist? Nothing. But my mother did and I guess he took it out on me. She was a flake and a drunk who slept with anyone and everyone she thought could make her life easier. I’m pretty sure Sanchuk was one of her conquests, he’d be over at our house from time to time when I was young.
I remember coming home from school one day and walking in on a screaming match between them.
He yelled at me to get out and she didn’t like that much so she sent him packing instead.
That didn’t seem to sit well with him, and I guess he thought he was getting back at her by targeting me.
” I bark out a harsh laugh as a wave of bitterness washes over me.
“Little did he know, mother dearest didn’t give even the tiniest fuck about me. ”
Wonderful. Here I thought I was long over all of that childhood shit, and now I’ve gone and dumped it all over Savvy’s lap.
“I’m sorry,” she whispers, her lip trembling. “For your mother, for Sanchuk, for the way even my father treated you. You didn’t deserve it then and you definitely don’t deserve it now.”
“You don’t own this, Savannah, so don’t apologize. Not for any of them.” I reach out and put a hand on her arm. “I have plenty to apologize for myself, but if you ask me, it’s a waste of energy that might be better spent moving forward.”
“It’s not that easy,” she laments, allowing me to pluck her right hand from the steering wheel and sliding my palm against hers. “I can’t get over the fact my father was even a part of that.”
I bring her hand to my mouth and brush a kiss to her knuckles.
“I don’t know…now being a father myself, and given what your dad believed to be true at the time, I can’t say I don’t understand his motivation.”
The rest of the drive is quiet again, but her hand stays in mine the entire way home.
“Hey, I’d love for you to come in. Tate won’t be home until tomorrow in the afternoon, Maggie and Roy are keeping Tate tonight and seeing her off to school in the morning.”
“I’ll come in and get you settled, but I don’t know if I’ll stay,” she says with a tired little smile.
“It’s up to you,” I assure her, remembering her earlier point and trying not to be too overbearing. “But unless you’ve got somewhere to be, I thought you might be able to use a little break. We don’t even have to talk much.”
She snickers at that.
“Thank God there’s nowhere I need to be, but I’ve spent too many hours this weekend in a much-too-small room, filled with disdain and anger, and smelling of hangover sweat and bad breath. I need a drink and a long, hot shower.”
“Well, I’m feeling pretty benevolent myself, I haven’t touched a drink in days, brushed my teeth before you came, and have a nice walk-in shower and a good bottle of scotch I’ve been savoring.”
She turns her body to me and leans in, pressing a soft kiss on my lips.
“Seems like a no-brainer to me.”