Page 18 of For Puck's Sake

“We were fucking. Clear and simple,” I say through clenched teeth, not giving two shits if I sound callous in my delivery. I try to keep my voice even and low in a room full of people, but, fuck it, I’m done being gentle. “I crossed a line with you and I shouldn’t have. I put a stop to it months ago, Dean. Six months ago, to be exact. I can’t tell you how to feel or how to handle your feelings for me,” I say as the noise of the growing customers inside Charlie’s masks my words. “I don’t want to hurt you, but all I feel for you is friendship. It’s all the explanation I will give you. I told you the other night, if you can’t handle working together anymore, then you know what you need to do.” I let my words settle, harsh, but necessary.

He leans back and studies me, then he nods his head as if he finally understands nothing will happen between us. Not now, not ever. I almost blow out a breath of relief. I guess this conversation, no matter how short, needed to happen. I don’t want to lose Dean, he is good at his job, a good musician, and my friend. My only friend for the past two years. But you know what they say about people coming into your life for a season, well maybe the seasons are changing.

Dean chuckles suddenly, the sound low and bitter to my ears and I know he’s about to put his foot in his mouth. I crossmy arms over my chest protectively for what I know is coming, holding myself and my anger at bay.

“Like I said, I noticed how distracted you’ve been. I say this as a friend,” he practically spits out the word friend like it’s poison as he continues, “I don’t want you to lose everything you’ve worked for because of him. You can’t possibly want the life he was trying to offer you, Brea,” he scoffs in disgust. “You’re not some athlete’s arm candy—his jersey-wearing wifey who sits at home while he travels around the country playing hockey. All the while, you sit, waiting for a crumb of his attention, and you get what?” Dean snaps his fingers then waves them at me at the question. The move is condescending, dripping with sarcasm and I know what he is about to say is going to hurt.

“You get to play Bessie, all alone, to no one but the night sky and the stars above. Your life, perfect.” He finishes with a gesture of a chef’s kiss and stands. I open my mouth to call him a motherfucker, but he stops me dead with his next jab. “Your words, remember? Your fears, remember? Where’s the lie, B?” He raises a brow in challenge. He looks around with a smirk, knowing I can’t make a scene. My rage rattles in the cage inside of me, but I only tighten my arms around myself.

“Now that you’ve got that off your chest. Don’t ever come for me in public again. I promise you, Dean, next time I will dance on your broken bones as I make a spectacle of embarrassing the fuck out of you.” I lean over the table to keep everything I say between us. “You only get one more with me. This is your second strike. I hope it was worth it.” I pull away, pushing back into my chair, pursing my lips. Attitude on full display. If looks could kill, he would be flayed at my feet.

Dean smiles, keeping up the false pretense of an easy conversation. “You want to be friends, fine. So, take my friendly advice and put the distractions to bed. Because he is a distraction you don’t need. You have a show in seven hours. I’llsee you at sound check.” Dean reaches into his pocket and drops a ten-dollar bill down on the table, then turns and leaves without another word.

I watch him go, not even a little stunned by the blows he landed. Everything he said was something I had already expressed to him countless times. My drunken ramblings, my justifications for leaving Ridley. Fool me for disclosing information about my past relationship. He didn’t know about the miscarriage or my possible inability to have more children, no, that remains and dies with me. He threw my words back in my face to hurt me because he is hurting. Well, as mad as I am, I know better than to lash out in public. The last thing I need is a random video on social media of me knocking my road manager out cold over the head with my coffee cup. I can get creative when I’m pissed off.

For now, I’ll let him have this one. He’s been warned. Next time though, all bets are off, and I won’t care about it being in public. With this being a small town, I expect gossip, or shifting eyes to be cast in my direction, but to my surprise, no one is paying me any attention. Thank goodness for small mercies. I stand, grateful I enjoyed my bagel and coffee before Dean decided to open his mouth and spoil my time at Charlie’s.

I wave goodbye to my friend and with a promise to stop by tomorrow, I head outside into the morning sun. With nothing more to do until soundcheck later, my intent is to head back to the guest house. I want to brush off Dean’s words, forget the lingering memories sitting inside the coffee shop brought forth, but I can’t. My fingers twitch with the need to console myself with Bessie and play the rest of my free time away. My phone, on the other hand, has other ideas as ‘I Love Every Little Thing About You’ by Stevie Wonder begins to play, stalling my steps. Mood lifting from the sound of one of my favorite songs, I pull my phone from my back pocket. Heading in the direction of myjeep, I circumvent the crowds of people, waving on occasion to someone I know as I step off the sidewalk and pause to read the incoming message.

Unknown: I don’t like that look on your face, Luna. What can I do to bring your smile back?

Me: Who is this?

My lips lift a fraction, there’s only one person who calls me Luna, I know exactly who this is, but a girl needs to make her stalker sweat, right?

Unknown: Oh, Angel, there’s only one man who calls you Luna. There’s only one man who gazes up at the night sky with you in mind. Unless there is something you want to share with the class?

I jump into my jeep, shaking my head with a laugh. He pulls out the big guns calling me Angel. I let my eyes close slowly, memories of tangled limbs, hungry kisses, and whispers of Angel on his lips has my stomach flipping with anticipation. He knows it’s my kryptonite.

Me: You’re not playing fair, Ridley. But if you must know, I think I’ve got a stalker. He calls me Luna, too. Angel though, Angel is all you.

Unknown: So, she remembers. Good girl.

Okay, I may need an extinguisher for my panties. I can almost hear the deep penetrative growl of his voice. Shit, I said penetrative. Oh, lordy, lordy.

Me: Ridley?

Unknown: Luna?

Me: Why are you following me around? Did you not think I wouldn’t sense your presence?

Unknown: We have unfinished business, baby. Plus, I need to keep an eye on what’s mine.

Me: Yours?

Unknown: Yes. Mine. I’ve been trying to find the best way to approach you. Hence, the stalking. But I’ve decided to just come out and make my intentions known. What if we started over? Let’s put the past in the past. There’s no way to change what we went through. It was out of our control. But don’t we owe it to each other to try to remain in each other’s lives? If not lovers, then at least friends. I miss you, Luna. I miss having you in my life. What do you say? Let me make you dinner, lunch, or breakfast. Your choice.

I stare at my phone, my words, well, my fingers fail me as I pause over the screen. I know I can no longer avoid Ridley, if anything, this conversation is long overdue. To put our past behind us, to remain friends, would be a great way forward. I have a decision to make. I can think of all the reasons why something as simple as making amends won’t work. Start over? Easier said than done. Putting an end to our proverbial standoff has the potential to unravel everything I’ve worked so hard to reclaim. But what if?

What if we can pick up our tattered pieces and jagged edges, forge them into something unbreakable. Haven’t we reached rock bottom? There’s only one way to find out if we can both climb up and out of the mire together. It all begins with something I’ve denied Ridley for far too long—communication, and dinner.

Wait, Ridley is not the best cook, but he can make a mean sandwich.

Me: Ham and Cheese?

Unknown: Ham and cheese are my specialty (smiley face emoji)

ELEVEN

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