by Bri Stone
But even I know better, even I know that I can’t go and step on his heart twice.
“Two more hours, just two more hours,” I whisper to myself and twist my thin, silver wristwatch back around before I exit the bathroom.
I round the narrow corner and come back to the wide hallway, with gold paneling and antique etchings. Houston can be bourgeois when it wants. I see a man I recognize at the end of the ballroom but can’t imagine it’s who I think it is. It isn’t until I come closer and he sees me that I know it’s Stan Edwards. Medical marvel, founder of the Edwards foundation and impeccably charming to match handsome too. Dirty blonde hair, gray eyes, and California tanned skin, he looks the same as the first day we met, through my friend Perrie.
“Melinda, I thought I’d see you here!” His smile is welcoming, and he takes me into a half hug where he kisses my cheek.
“Hey, Stan. I don’t know why I didn’t think I’d see you here.” I giggle softly.
His soft gray eyes and coiffed hair stand out, he looks like medical royalty even in a simple, tailored black suit.
“Last minute thing, I just came by for some networking and to place a couple bids. Can I get you a drink?” He asks.
I sigh at the familiarity of him; he reminds me of Perrie and Thom, my friends from medical school. I miss her, even though we talk as often as we can. Thom and I have a unique friendship, but yeah, I miss him too.
“Sure.”
We go to the fancy open bar, where the bartender is dressed in a suit.
“So, everything is going well I hope?” Stan makes conversation. I get a simple cranberry juice cocktail, and he gets himself a scotch neat as always.
“Yes. I have about fifty patients in the trial, and a lot of applicants every month. I hate turning people away.” I say honestly. I sip the juice, leaning against the bar and watch the room with Stan.
“Well, that is the worst part. But it’s something you can outsource. You have residents?”
I nod.
“Good, that’s something they can do.” He winks before a nod.
“Okay. I’ll keep that in mind. How is Thom?” I ask.
“Doing well. Getting back into operating.”
“That’s good,” I respond.
The master of ceremonies comes on and announces the silent auction. Stan excuses himself and heads straight for the art portion. Nothing catches my eye, but I just bid a couple grand on the weekend getaway to a private travel lodge anyways. My only task for the rest of the evening is to talk up some big funders for my research. When things go through the hospital, I don’t get to pick and choose, and I end up with a lot of red tape regarding what I can and cannot do.
CEOs, private research funders, they’re all there to hear me. I got used to the proper lingo and ways to approach them, and I also knew how to dodge some of the men’s sketchy advances. After an hour of that and sitting through the silent auction to be surprised I won the weekend trip, I’m ready to leave.
There is some bustle around the bar when I make my way through the main ballroom, and I wonder what it could be. There had been some B list celebrities here all night so I couldn’t imagine what it was. My steps slow when I see the tall figure, hear the booming laughter that has been permanently etched in my brain for so long.
My feet turn to lead, and I stand frozen on the spot as I become aware of every bone and tendon in my body. I haven’t felt like this since I first saw him, so shocked I pretended to be as rude as possible, the first time I had to put up that kind of armor—and even every day after that. He still looks the same; thick dark hair, broad shoulders and tall stature— the memory almost makes me smile. A real one, and not a fake one.
But this all begs the question, why is he here? Have I gone crazy?
What does he have to do with medical politics? The only thing that pulls me out of my reverie is the woman who brushes against my shoulder. I recognize her as a sports med doctor—the team doctor for the Texans whom I worked with briefly. She must know.
“Sorry,” she says when she bumps me by accident.
“You’re fine. Hey, do you know why Pete Buchanan is here?” His name falls from my tongue like a fresh drink of water after a drought, but in the same way it burns on the way down like vodka.
Dr. Nicole Wood is a blonde, well-figured woman with brown eyes and a tough attitude needed to make it in sports medicine. I worked with her briefly when I operated on the quarterback last year.
“Oh, he’s with me. He’s been in and out of conversations all night.” Her cheery voice and smile almost make me want to punch her, especially when she nudges my shoulder like I’m her Tri Delta sister or something.
She saunters off towards him, taking his arm to announce herself. His profile shows me only half his smile, but it still lights every fire I doused fifteen years ago. She looks perfect in her silver dress, wavy blonde hair falling over her shoulder as she smiles back at him.
I want to move, I need to go, but I’m frozen both in the moment and in the past.
Pete is here, my Pete, but not mine anymore.
Why now after so long? What kind of joke is divine providence playing on me that it would wait until I am leading a different life and regretting the one I left behind before the past gets dumped on me.
I contemplate talking to him, saying something, but there is nothing appropriate I could say. Sorry for destroying you, I didn’t mean it. Not really suitable for this event anyway.
But it is so hard to think, looking at him in that black suit, tailored to fit him like a second skin. Even in the fancy material, he still looks like the sweet, down to earth man I fell for—who grew up on a farm and used his hands to grow everything with his family and stayed close to all of them. Family oriented, a gentleman, a sexy southern man… he’s still there and seems to be doing well.
My heart fights my brain when my legs move to just turn around and use the back exit. I can’t believe I’m walking away from him again, I can’t believe—
“Melinda, wait!” Nicole calls after me and I silently curse her.
I close my eyes, inhale deeply as I turn and by the time I am facing them I have put on my friendly face.
“I was just telling Pete about the operation you did for Mark.”
I hold her gaze until it is absolutely necessary for me to look at him.
The smile from before is gone, the joviality in his body has vanished and he stands before me the man that I left. I glance up at him tentatively, our gaze catching for only a short moment before I have to look away. Because it is just too much.
“Oh, okay.” My brain isn’t working well enough for me to respond properly.
Nicole frazzles before she laughs it off. “It was amazing, I thought he would never play again, but now he’s set for the season. Isn’t that great?” She nudges Pete, then glances back at me.
“It’s great.” His simple words; gruff and deep, wash over me and I travel back in time again.
Back to the way he used to talk to me; the way he would whisper in my ear every morning until I woke up, or how he sounded over the phone. Even more so the way his voice could make me submit and make me feel powerful at the same time.
I swallow hard. “Well, I should get going.” I clear my throat and clutch my small bag in my hands.
“Okay. It was nice to see you.” Nicole says, and I nod in agreement even though it wasn’t. Nicole doesn’t even seem his type, but then again, I don’t even really know him anymore—it’s a lie because he is the only thing I know.
I can’t bear to look at Pete again before I dash out of there, weave through the crowd and pick up my voucher from the auction at the check-out. Before I clear the parking garage I start hyperventilating, the scars of my heart once again sharpening and weakening me. I fight to turn back around as the wounds that have shaped me and the scars that have built my throne threaten to overthrow me if I try. My knees rock in the elevator on the way down because I want so badly to just turn around and go back to hi
m, and when the door opens up it is like I have been smacked in the face.
Pete appears in the threshold of the elevator, I can only take one step and let the doors shut behind me. He is panting as his chest heaves and I know he raced the stairs on the way down. The tendons of his jaw tighten as he looks me over, memorizing me, convincing himself that I am really here.
Yes, I am. I’m really here.
He doesn’t know what to say either, with his lips parted and his tongue moistening his lip. His head shakes slightly, as he thinks of something to say. There is nothing perfectly appropriate for this at all.
“Pete,” saying his name solidifies our placement in the moment.
That this is really happening, that we are really seeing each other after fifteen years.
I want to reach out and touch him. Do something, anything.
A couple exits the other elevator and gives us a look before they pass. Pete swallows and clears his throat.
“I’ll walk you to your car.”
I don’t know why I expected more from him. Different words, I think. But I nod and accept his offering.
My heels click against the cement, but I am still shorter than his towering frame. I want to be closer to him, but the distance between us is safe. The fluttering of my heart steals my breath as blood rushes to my face.
We reach my car and Pete whistles. I almost wish I hadn’t taken the Maserati, but what’s done is done.
“Thank you.” I manage to say as I unlock the car.
Pete steps around me and sets his hand on the door handle before his fingers linger over it. The long, strong fingers trap my gaze before I fall back to him. His warm eyes are still so brown and soft, his jaw strong and his lips full and pink. He is still such a handsome, beautiful man.
“Pete, I’m… I—” I shake my head, losing my words. Perhaps I never had them.
He towers over me as he looks down, sets his hands back in his pockets as if to keep from touching me. I clutch my purse to do the same.
“Why, Melinda?” My name gushes from his lips and my knees weaken. “Why?”
I don’t need any more information to tell me what he is asking. A question I feared for so long, a question that made me change my number and move far, far away from him. Fear, truth, they were never my high point.
I exhale deeply and swallow the frozen lump in my throat as I become frozen again, except for the look in his eye that I can’t look away from. The wonder, the sadness, the betrayal; and I caused all of it.
“Oh, Pete…” I breathe.
“You can’t even answer me, can you? After all these years… after all we had, the way you—I don’t even get to know why.” There is no hostility in his voice, only pure, raw emotion that he can’t hold back.
“Pete, it’s not… that simple.” I blink, I feel my eyelash glue weakening from all the tears I have tried to hold back by blinking.
“What’s complicated? Huh, what is it? We had everything; a future together, you were gonna be my wife, we were everything to each other. What isn’t simple about that? About the promises you and I made. Except I actually kept mine.” His accent drawls.
I shake my head rapidly. I am not prepared for this. I could never imagine this conversation just right, nor could I wish it didn’t happen. Because I wanted it to, truly, but when I was ready. I never was, and I probably never would be, but especially not now. I can’t look at him and bare my soul to him after all these years, even back then I couldn’t entirely give myself to him, and he still accepted me. I still haven’t accepted so much.
His eyes narrow and the coldness of his gaze falls short over me.
“It just isn’t… I’m sorry, Pete. I really am sorry.” I whisper.
When I inhale his scent swirls sharply around me and I nearly lose it when I do. The masculinity, the roughness, his woodsy pine and clean aroma is still as intense as it was before. The same way it was the very first day we met.
“You’re sorry.” He laughs humorlessly. “I don’t know what I was thinking, coming down here.” He shakes his head and brushes past me, but I react before I think and grab his hand as he does.
“Pete—”
“No,” he yanks his hand away and I gasp. “I guess I lose all sense when I’m around you. Hell, what did I think I was going to get from you, other than the same pathetic apology I got before? The day I met you was the day I lost all common sense, and I guess I still don’t have it back.” his accent drawls on the more he talks. “You know, it isn’t even that. It’s that I still love you. But that doesn’t matter because you’re still a coward, and you’re still breaking my heart.”
Pete stomps away, his broad figure disappearing into the darkness of the parking garage. I stand staring after him, gasping, searching for my breath until I can find my bearings.
I get in my car, practically driving on auto pilot, holding back tears and wait until I am safely home before I unload, collapsing in the foyer as I cry for everything that I walked away from fifteen years ago. I cry for the pain I caused him and that I can still see in his eyes. I didn’t see it that day when I left, I didn’t see him at all. Had I, I may not have left at all… but it plagues my thoughts as if it just happened, as if no time has passed at all and my body still knows how to ache for him. How to yearn for him.
Oh, how I wish I could tell him the truth, tell him why, tell him… that it wasn’t his fault. That it was never him. That I had always been broken and my repairs were only rented while I was with him.
I trudge into the bathroom, undress, and hide under the hot water until my skin burns. I take one of his shirts that I took with me, a gray Baylor tee shirt, and put it on before I crawl into bed, still sobbing.
My eyes are swollen, and my chest constricts but I keep crying because it’s all I can give him. It’s all I can allow myself. Pete came back, and every door of my house was broken into yet again, and I just ran instead of fighting for my turf.
He was right—I am a coward, and we still love each other.
PETE
Gameday, Senior Year
* * *
Jim, Daniel and I wake up with the sun to go for our usual gameday run. We have been doing it since sophomore year; it just clears our head and gets us in the mood. Between the three of us, we have the most critical positions on the team. Jim, being the quarterback of course, and Daniel as the running back. They have a connection for sure because every time Jim socks it to him, Daniel catches it. We’ve finished the two-mile jog and stretch by the benches outside our neighborhood. My muscles have been tensed the whole week, with coach hounding me at practice and getting me to increase my yards. If I want a chance at the pros, it’s just something I have to do.
That, and Melinda has been on my mind for the past month. I met her in July and I haven’t stopped thinking of her since. The woman is beautiful, and I mean stunning like a sunset over the corn fields. She takes my breath away when I think about her, and more so because she didn’t give me half the time of day. I want to figure out what hides behind those milky brown eyes, what makes her… her.
We start the walk back. “I can’t believe it’s senior year,” I say.
“For sure,” Daniel says. “And then it’s off to analyzing finances for the rich and richer.” He scoffs. I turn to him on my right side and Jim does the same on my other.
“Dude why are you going to work for your dad if you don’t want to?” I ask him.
“Dunno. Same reason you work for yours.” He takes off his shirt and wipes his face.
“Uh, the big difference is that I like working for my dad.” And technically, I own half the farm, the rest I get if he passes.
“Well. Never mind then.” He chuckles. “But it’s Pete we have to worry about not talking to us anymore when he goes pro.” Jim chides, dodging the question entirely.
I shake my head with a smile. The sun has started to beat down on us, the smell of Baylor in the wind. I can already smell the tailgates and the alcohol. Gameday never chang
es.
“Yeah right. You guys…” I rest my elbows on their shoulders They take the meaning of my words and each clap my back before we separate for the rest of the walk home.
Our neighborhood always has a block party for the first game, and people have already started setting up near the house. Our three-story brick colonial was old when we bought it, and we fixed it up ourselves with the help of Jim’s dad, who has his own contracting business. Now, it’s pretty sweet on the inside and traditional Waco on the outside.
We do the rest of our usual routine; eggs and sausage breakfast, and protein shakes before we start getting ready to head to the stadium. But on the drive there, when I can’t get Melinda out of my head, I know I have to talk about it before it distracts me. They had been asking about her since the gas station anyway; I never know when they’re watching.
“So, look, I don’t want to be distracted today and I don’t want to talk about it much either, but I’m trying to get this girl…” I don’t finish before I’m hounded. I wait for them to finish and shake my head as I smirk it’s official now, I’ve got a girl on my mind and my friends know about it.
“But she’s adamant, and I don’t know if I can get through to her.” I did try and see her the next week when I filled up, but she wasn’t there.
I had a feeling she might have changed her shift, but I didn’t want to hurt my pride by believing it.
“She probably thinks you’re some jock player,” Jim says.
“Like you?” Daniel retorts.
“Okay, thanks guys.” I reply with sarcasm. I pull onto the University drive, ten minutes from the stadium. The city mixes into some of the buildings; a real college town.
“Coach is looking for us.” Daniel shows his phone.
I roll my eyes, probably one of the other players just dogging us.
“Shit, I need to get gas. All the stations will be a bitch after the game.” I peel off a side street to head to the station.
“Are your parents coming?” Jim asks me.
“I don’t know, they like to have the element of surprise. Sometimes the whole lot of my family comes, depends on the game.” I answer.
