by A. M. Brooks
I chose Red Eagle bar because it is one of my favorite places to eat in the area. It has that bar feel while serving up dishes that could almost rival something I’d find back home or in Nashville. When I miss my parents or need a touch of southern, this is my go-to place. With Colt throwing my world for an extra spin today, I need all the comfort I can get tonight.
I arrive before him, on purpose, and ask the hostess to seat us on the back patio, where I get to also choose the most secluded table. My knee bounces slightly under the table while I wait. When the server comes by, I order a margarita on the rocks, needing something to take the edge off. Colt arrives at exactly seven on the dot. His hair looks wet still and I wonder if he just had time to shower before getting here. I almost feel bad for suggesting we get this over with tonight, knowing he would have his agility testing and physical today, almost. Then I remember how insistent he was and how much he likes to have his way, and the guilt disintegrates quickly.
He drops into the seat across from me, and I hold my breath, so I don’t inhale his body wash scent. It hasn’t changed over the years we’ve been apart and the memories hit me full force.
“I hope you didn’t wait long,” he drawls, his lips hooking into a small smile.
“Nope,” I respond. “Usually traffic takes longer, and I’m actually surprised I’m not late.”
“How long have you been living here?” he asks.
I pause while the server comes over and takes Colt’s beer order. “About two years.”
“You moved here right after school?” Colt inquires, leaning into the table, completely fascinated by my answers.
“After grad school, yes. I did my internship a couple towns over then decided to open my own practice here,” I tell him, then bring my margarita to my lips. Only a few sentences exchanged and my mouth feels like it’s stuffed with cotton.
He spins the information I just gave him around in his mind. “I saw your picture in your office, you graduated from Alabama?”
I nod. “I did my grad school there, too. Once I got used to it and learned how to be independent there, I loved it.”
“I’m glad you did,” he responds, his breath hitching lightly. “Over the years one of the things I’ve always wondered is if you still went there. I felt guilty I forced you to choose it, then didn’t go with you.”
My heart hammers in my chest. I guess we’re going to just jump right in tonight. “You didn’t force me to do anything, Colt. I chose to go with you, and even after we broke up, I chose to go and then eventually to stay there. And now, after everything I’ve experienced, I’m glad I made the choice to stay. I had some truly amazing years there.”
His lips and smile falter slightly, but he nods his head slowly. “I’m glad to hear that. How’s your family?”
I shrug. “Momma and Dad are still in the same home. Getting close to retirement but are adamant they want to keep working. Kyler is in Nashville at an accounting firm and Posey is…well, she’s still deciding what she wants. She did medical school for a bit then thought she wanted to be a veterinarian.”
Colt laughs, the deep kind, and his eyes meet mine. “That girl always did have a million things going on all at once, it seemed. I’m surprised about Kyler, though. I thought for sure he’d be doing something with games or design.”
“Me too. I don’t know though. He said the money was better.” I chuckle and smile thinking of my younger siblings. “Have you talked to your dad? Momma told me he’s been sober since not long after you left. Guess he’s been staying busy too.”
Colt’s eyes drop to the table and he looks uncomfortable. “Last week was actually the first time I’ve seen him in years. I told him I was in town for Tric’s funeral and he invited me to dinner, with AJ.”
“AJ? As in your nephew?” I question, astonished. I knew how much it used to tear Colt up back in the day that he had no contact with his brother’s son.
“Yup. Guess they’ve reconnected and been getting together. He wanted to meet me so there he was.” Colt smiles, but it’s strained.
“He’s got to be in his twenties by now?” I try to do the math, then remember it was never really my strong suit.
“Twenty. He’s playing baseball at Vanderbilt.” Colt goes on to tell me about how much he looks like Alex and how their dinner was. “I’m going to try and see him more often, I think.”
“Your dad too?” I throw out and watch a myriad of emotions cross his face.
“I hadn’t talked to him since the night he threw me out. He wrote me over the years, but I never read them. I couldn’t forgive him. Not even for hitting me but just how he stopped being a parent, stopped caring about me when my mom died.” His eyes glaze over, revisiting his past.
“Don’t blame yourself, Colt. I’m glad he’s sober, but you’re right, that doesn’t mean you need to just jump right back in and act like the past didn’t happen. At least he’s trying, though. And now you have AJ,” I remind him gently. His head bobs in agreement.
We order our food and then silence descends on the table. Not the comfortable kind either. It’s the kind where you both have something to say, but you’re giving the other an opportunity to fire first. Twice my mouth opens to speak, but I hold back and reach for my drink instead. Colt does the same and after the third time, he laughs. “This shouldn’t be so hard.”
I smile. “We haven’t talked in eight years and neither one of us wants to touch on what happened. It’s bound to be awkward.”
“I feel like I used to know you more than I knew myself. Now I know absolutely nothing about you and it freaks me out,” he admits, his hands sliding behind his neck.
“Not really much to tell. I liked college, got my doctorate, moved to Virginia and opened my own business.”
“What do you do for fun?” His eyes turn serious as he asks.
I blank for a second, trying to remember the last time I wasn’t busy and went out. “I have a few friends nearby. Camryn and I get together three times a year and do a vacation. I visit my family when I can or they come here.”
“Are you seeing anyone?” His question catches me off guard.
I think about Jordan and I think about Colt, comparing and analyzing. I never lied to Jordan. Even at my lowest moments, I never lied. “I was,” my lips roll together, fighting back the tears, “his name is, or was, Jordan. He, ah, passed away shortly before I moved here. He had cancer.”
Colt’s smile fades until his features are dark, and he can’t look me in the eyes. I’m used to this expression by now when I tell people about why I’m single. The boy I thought I was going to spend the rest of my life with left me and cut off all communication. Then the next guy I gave my heart to, even if it was slightly mangled, got an incurable and horrific disease, and I watched him deteriorate before my eyes.
“I don’t even know what to say. I’m sorry you went through that.” Colt’s throat bobs.
“He was a great man and he fought hard,” I respond, wiping a lone tear away. “How about you, are you seeing anyone?”
Colt pauses a beat before he shakes his head no. “Nothing has ever felt right.”
I drop back in my chair and look him right in the eyes. “Why are we here tonight?”
He leans back, hands resting on the table. “I had the idea this would go differently. I meant what I said at your office earlier. I am sorry. For everything.”
“Okay, but why?” I ask, refusing to just accept his apology. “Why did you decide not to go to college? Why did you lie about sleeping with that girl at the party?”
“You know about that?” He at least has the decency to look sheepish.
“I was out with Camryn and this girl walked up to me. Asked me if I remembered her. She wanted to clear her name about what happened.” I shrug and wait.
“I didn’t plan it. I honestly didn’t think you’d come back the next morning and it just worked out that way. I was trying to push you away, and when I let you believe I slept with her, I finally got what
I wanted.” His words do nothing to slow the pounding in my temples.
“Yeah, you did,” I agree with him, while letting the sarcasm drip from my words. “Now can you tell me why? Was it just that you didn’t want to go to Alabama anymore or because you didn’t want to go with me?”
Colt shifts in his seat and inhales. “It wasn’t you, Lyric. It was my own fucked-up head. When Zane and I got to Bama, they rolled out the red carpet. We had a tour, we talked with an adviser, I got to see the facilities, and everything was great until they asked if I wanted to practice with them. I tanked. I couldn’t catch, couldn’t get a play off, I was tackled so many times, my jersey was green from the grass stains. And all I could hear was my dad’s voice telling me how I would never amount to anything. I was embarrassed and stupid and didn’t even stick around to talk or think about my options. Zane was talking earlier in our drive about why he enlisted, and, I don’t know, it seemed like the fastest and easiest way to get out of town, out of the state and start over. I’m sorry I lied to you and that I hurt you.”
I take a few moments and his words replay over in my mind. For some reason, I’m not as shocked as I thought I would be. Hurt, yes, mad, absolutely. At this moment, I need to make a decision, and only I’m the one who has the power over how this will affect me.
I think of Zane and his reaction to seeing me again. I remember how many times he apologized then and now, explaining it wasn’t his story to tell. And maybe it wasn’t. I finally pushed my own thoughts down to step into his shoes and realized I would have done the same for Camryn. Maybe that isn’t right or fair, but I would have. Zane walked out of my office knowing I forgave him.
My eyes lift back to Colt’s. I can see his apology in his eyes, the way the truth has weighed on him, shaped his life, and led him here. I think about my own growth over the past eight years. The love, the loss, the self-discovery. It’s a burden to carry around so much anger and hate.
“I wish you had told me,” I start, and I notice his eye twitches. “I wish I had known the pain you were in or just anything else than what you let me believe. That was what always hurt the most, the fact that you lied. I always knew there had to have been a reason. I would have understood, Colt. And even if that had led to us breaking up then or down the road, at least it would have been honest.”
“I’m sorry,” he whispers, resting his elbows on the table, his hands folding in front of his lips and I swear I see his eyes shimmer.
“Thank you,” I tell him. “I accept your apology. I told Zane the same thing, and I’m glad you both ended up here. I needed to let this go and now I feel like I finally can.”
Our food arrives then and we both rush to pull ourselves together. I gently dab under my eyes, where a few tears were threatening to spill over. Colt clears his throat and we make attempts at small talk as we eat our meals. When we’re finished, he snatches the check, even after I offer to pay my portion. He declines over and over until I give up. I guess I’ll take the free meal and drink.
We both stand to leave, and Colt walks out the front door with me. I’m careful not to touch him, even while I’m very aware of his hand that gently grazes my lower back while leading me to the parking lot.
“This is me,” I tell him and point my key fob at the Crossover SUV I’m driving. “I’m glad we got the chance to reconnect.”
Colt’s eyes wander over my face. Whatever he sees causes his eyes to flash, angrily possessively, and annoyingly. “Lyric, I didn’t ask you to dinner and open up so we could just bury the past. I was a little caught off guard by the way our conversation went, but by no means is this me walking away, giving you closure or whatever.”
“I—"
He cuts me off, stepping closer, until he’s in my space, my relaxed Vans touching his Nikes. “I am sorry I hurt you and lied to you and that it took me eight years to get it out. This isn’t me walking away again now that you forgive me. I mean I’ll take it, but even if you hadn’t, I’m prepared to argue about it with you for the rest of our lives and make up with you about it for however long it takes.”
“It’s been eight years, Colt.” I shake my head and move to step back. “We aren’t the same people anymore, and honestly, you can’t just stroll on in and play the ‘you want me now’ card. Eight years. You could have reached out at any time.”
His hand reaches out and latches onto my wrist, forcing my body to fall into his. “I never thought I’d see you again, Lyric. I figured you were married, with kids, and I didn’t want to ruin things for you. Seeing you, though, blew that last piece of decency right out of the water. You’re mine. You always have been.”
My knees turn to Jell-O and I’m instantly pissed at myself about it. Yanking my hand out of his grip, I step back and march over to my car. I feel his gaze burn holes in my back with every step I take away from him. Peeling out of the parking lot, my heart beats erratically the whole drive back to my house. Over and over again in my head, I can hear my mom’s voice telling me the pain would go away some day and it did, only to have the source of that pain arrive in the flesh, busting his way back into my life. Memories of Jordan telling me to be stronger, then also telling me to forgive and be happy before he died flash in my mind. I’m torn. I can forgive him. I did forgive him. There is no way, though, I can give Colt Street my heart again. I’m barely surviving now from the shape it’s in.
Chapter Thirteen
Lyric
I expected Colt to go back in the little box I made for him and stay stashed away, maybe even listen to me when I told him no. Mark had explained he needed their assessments done and completed right away so that they could start on their training and whatever else they would be doing at Cole Security, and I banked on Colt being too busy to follow through on his promise from our dinner earlier in the week. I should have known better.
When I got back to my townhouse after that night, I tossed and turned every hour. I dreamt Colt and I were back in high school and about the night he asked me to be his girlfriend in front of that stupid tree. Jordan made multiple appearances, never saying anything, just watching what I was dreaming, interest clear on his face. It was unsettling and by mid-week, my makeup no longer could hide the bluish smudges under my eyes. Even Scott started to notice my appearance and made sure I had an extra shot of espresso in my afternoon coffees.
Nothing was phasing Colt, though. The morning after our dinner, he suddenly had my phone number. The good morning beautiful texts started flowing in, and every night, he asked me to dinner the next day. It was sickly charming and borderline stalkerish. Every night I went to bed mad at myself for liking it, and feeling sick to my stomach that I was torn about it. Flowers arrived to my office twice and I finally responded to a text asking him not to send flowers there then they showed up at my house and a pint size of my favorite ice cream flavor showed up at my office.
By Friday, I caved and reached out to Camryn. I could hear her hesitancy on the phone. “I mean, Lyric, think about it. All this time has passed, you both are in different places in your lives and your paths just happen to cross. Maybe this is how it was supposed to be.”
“Cam, you know how bad I was. For a year, it felt like my life spiraled out of control. He hurt me a lot,” I argue, reminding her and myself.
“He didn’t actually cheat on you, though,” she points out.
I huff into the phone. “He let me believe he did, which is the same as lying. If he had told me why he didn’t want to go, I would have understood. If he still wanted to break up, I think it would have been easier at least knowing why.”
“Yeah, but I think that’s the part you’re missing. I don’t think he broke up with you because he wanted to but because of the reason he decided to lie about Alabama. Honestly girl, I think things happened the way they did for a reason,” she argues.
By the time we hang up, I’m even more confused. More times than I care to think about my finger would hover over my mom’s number, but I always backed down. I didn’t think she woul
d understand and part of me still thought she didn’t like Colt after what happened. Lord knows my dad wouldn’t be forgiving him in this lifetime.
The thoughts toss around in my mind, my stomach twisting with indecision.
“Lyric!”
My head snaps around at the shouting of my name.
“Damn, woman,” Brody chuckles, “you must be deep in thought.”
“Yeah, sorry about that,” I murmur, clearing my head from the memories. “What can I help you with?”
He sighs, glancing around my empty office space. “Mark wanted me to pick up that file on Lukas Devoroix that you flagged.”
“Mmm.” I nod my head, while grabbing the key to the file cabinet. “I already told Mark my concerns, but just in case, here are the video and audio recordings as well as his answers to the written assessment.”
“You do this with all your clients?” Brody lifts a brow and I smirk.
“Yes. And when they have red flags that pop up, it comes in handy.” I smile.
“What were the red flags?”
“Well for one, his answers were way too thought out. When I tripped him up by not following the same line of questioning, he became flustered and appeared agitated,” I list out.
Brody smirks. “The damn alien question again?”
“Hey!” I laugh. “It works every time. Most people, though, don’t get mad when I ask. Confused, yes, thoughtful, definitely, some even laugh. A normal response for example is Sergeant Thompson’s; he laughed and answered that he’s seen so many things he never thought he would and wouldn’t be surprised if there were. Devoroix, on the other hand, turned red and tripped up on words he had been about to say. Trust me, it wasn’t normal and his answers seemed scripted.”
