I stare after him, feeling even more confused than before.
I wouldn't say it was a total lie. What the hell did he mean by that?
CHAPTER 8
Sawyer
I wake up wondering about Jamie's words and what he meant by them. I shouldn't care about it. It's supposed to be Parker and Peyton's business. But I find myself thinking about it just the same.
Maybe because Peyton has been implying that I have something to do with it. That I'm involved somehow. But how?
With a puff of frustrated breath, I kick the blanket off and rise from the bed, padding over to the bathroom to do my morning business.
Peyton is probably just stirring up drama. She's not happy even though she successfully destroyed my relationship with Liam. She wants to play with my feelings even more. Crazy how she'd harbored resentment toward me for a long time, making me believe we were best friends.
It pains me to know that. For years, I thought we were inseparable. We grew up together, made memories together. I thought we were more than friends. She'd been like a sister to me. Obviously, it was never mutual.
Pushing her to the back of my mind, I head downstairs to the dining room where Dad is already seated at the head of the table having breakfast while talking to Mildred, who's seated on his left. Meanwhile, Duke is lying near his feet.
Mildred is the first one to notice my presence, smiling as she does so. "Good morning."
I smile back and return the greeting.
"Morning, kid." Dad glances up and smiles.
"Morning, Dad."
Duke snaps to attention when he sees me. Tail happily wagging, he pads over to greet me.
"Hey, buddy." I lean down to plant a kiss on top of his head, earning a lick on the cheek from him. Sitting down on Dad's right, I scoop a generous helping of sinangag rice onto my plate, then grab some hotdogs and eggs.
"Here's your coffee, Sawyer," Mildred says, placing a steaming mug beside my plate. I didn't even notice that she headed back to the kitchen.
I take a glorious sip and sigh. "Thanks, Mildred. You're the best."
"It's just coffee."
"Hey, as far as I know, it's the best."
She shakes her head as she reclaims her seat, smiling. "You say that every time."
And I'll say it again because it's the truth. She makes the best coffee, and judging from the approving look Dad just gave, he agrees with me, too.
"How's the headline news today, Dad?" I ask, motioning to the iPad propped up in front of him.
It's his version of a newspaper. He says it's more convenient to read news online, since there are several sources he can easily check to verify.
"Depressing and riddled with politics."
I smirk. "Aren't they always?"
He simply smiles then changes the subject. "Heading out today, kid?"
"No. I don't think I have any plans. Why?"
"Want to help me sort out your mom's old clothes in the basement?"
I look up in surprise. "Are you sure?"
Dad nods, a sad smile on his face. "It's time."
*******
It's been four years since Mom died. Four years since we got the dreadful call from the police. It was a car accident. The driver of the other car had been drunk and swerved into her lane.
He survived. Mom didn't.
Staring at the boxes filled with her clothes, the painful memory of that day comes rushing in, threatening to overwhelm me.
I take a deep breath and squeeze my eyes shut, rolling the heart-shaped pendant on my neck between my fingers, letting the feel of the necklace Mom gave me soothe the hurt.
Which four years have done very little to lessen.
This is why it took us this long to come down here to sort her belongings. We hadn't been able to bring ourselves to touch her clothes. When she died, it was Tita Minda, her sister, who'd packed up her things and brought them down to the basement.
"Bring back old memories, don't they?" Dad says wistfully, putting a hand on my shoulder before moving to the nearest box.
"What are you planning to do with her clothes?" I ask, plopping down on the chair across from him and pulling the box closest to me.
"I was thinking of donating all of them to Goodwill. But maybe you can find something you and your sister would want to wear?"
I snap my eyes to him. He wants us to have Mom's clothes? "Really?"
He smiles. "I can't think of anyone better to inherit them."
I blink back the tears in my eyes and smile. "Thanks, Dad."
He glances away but not before I get a glimpse of the glistening tears in his eyes. This is clearly hard for both of us.
For a moment, I wish Avery had chosen to come home this weekend. She'd know how to deal with this.
To escape from the sadness and grief clouding the air, I grab a random dress from the box at my feet. It's a pretty, knee-length pink floral dress. "How about this?"
Dad stares at the dress for a long moment, as if recalling a memory, before fondness settles into his features. "Ah, I remember that dress." He holds out a hand and I give it to him. A soft smile graces his features as he touches the material. "This was what Belinda was wearing on our first date as a married couple. God, do I remember it. She looked absolutely radiant."
My chest tightens at the raw emotion in his voice. I wipe at the lone tear running down my cheek. "Tell me about that date."
"Do you remember how she loved karaoke—I mean, videoke?"
I laugh at that. Mom preferred to call karaoke videoke, always saying it was called that way in the Philippines.
"We went to a bar after
