Dylan (Wild Men)

by Melissa Belle

  “Well, he’s a braver man than I am,” my father finishes.

  I nod sadly. Dylan always was the bravest man I’d ever met, but then he pushed me away. Now he’s just another person who decided I was better off without him.

  When I get home that night, I sit down on my apartment floor and try to continue the tradition I started. I take out my clay and attempt to sculpt my father. But nothing happens. I don’t get anything.

  This can’t be right. It’s not like my father has no essence. Nobody has no essence. It’s not possible, or he’d be dead. There has to be a pulse in there somewhere right? I’d think after having seen the man for the first time in my life, I could find his pulse.

  I pour myself a glass of wine and sip it while I stare, perplexed, at the mound of unmolded clay in front of me. All I can think of is opposites. Opposite of brave, opposite of calm, opposite of confident, opposite of Dylan. And when I get through all that, finally I reach for the clay. I sculpt quicker than usual and don’t give myself time to dwell. When I’m finished, I cover it up and go clean my hands, and then I begin to work on my sculptures for tomorrow night’s show.

  I think a lot about how to title them on the descriptive placards I’m going to hang above each one. “Death” is an easy one, but remembering what happened right after I’d sculpted it, I decide to call it “Painful End” instead.

  The sculpture of Dante and Harlow I title “Settling for Less Than You Deserve.” And the one of my mother? I keep that one simple: “A Mother’s Love.”

  But when I get to the sculpture of Dylan, I freeze. How can I possibly encapsulate someone as vibrant and sexy and incredible as Dylan Wild in a caption?

  And then, I know.

  I fill out the note card quickly, and before I can second-guess myself, I go to bed.

  I sleep fitfully. At dawn, I get up and go take a peek at what I sculpted last night. I inhale when I see the figure I made of my father.

  Hard to breathe. Hard to live.

  The sculpture of my father looks like a man gasping for air, gasping for life in a cold, cruel world, as he wishes he had a hand to make him feel safe because he never did. And for whatever reason, he could never teach himself that part. I look at the mouth, wide open as it fights for oxygen, and then my gaze shifts to the eyes. Once the clay dries, the eyes will be green. That’s the only color I plan to have on the entire sculpture because they were the only life I saw in my father, the one part of him that felt alive.

  I look over at the sculpture of Dylan, and a lump comes into my throat. I don’t know how I met a man who’s so alive, and so filled with love and joy. But I did. And I wish to God he was still in my life. Passing angry messages through his security team doesn’t make a relationship. I wish I could invite him to my gallery show tonight.

  But he made the decision to end things. When I remember how determined he was to break it off with me, my eyes fill with tears.

  Needing a distraction, I check my website and do a happy squeal when I see I have my first sale. One sale, and I made more than I make at Apex in a month.

  I reach for the phone to tell Lilla.

  “I know I’ll see you at work in an hour, but I just didn’t expect to be selling so soon,” I say to her. “I thought it would take forever.”

  “You’ve been sculpting forever,” she points out.

  I guess that’s true. I’ve been building a career for years but never felt courageous enough to admit that to myself.

  “So why haven’t you quit Apex yet?” she asks me. “I’m already jealous.”

  “Soon. I’m going to start working at the gallery in the evenings, and maybe in a few months I’ll be there full-time.”

  “So speaking of football,” Lilla says.

  “What?” I say. “I never said anything about football.”

  “You didn’t need to. It’s what’s underneath this entire conversation right?”

  “I can’t talk about Dylan right now, Lil. I have to get ready for work, and I’m going straight to the gallery from the office, so I’ve got to remember to pack everything.”

  “Okay, but I’m going to come to the show with you and admire all your hard work, and after that? You and I need to have a little chat about your love life.”

  “Lilla, I don’t have a love life to chat about. Remember?”

  “I still disagree. We’ll discuss it tonight.”

  “Lilla!”

  But she’s already hung up.

  I exhale and go get ready for the day.

  Dylan

  I haven’t left the house all week, except for my long runs on the beach. Even those weren’t as peaceful as normal because I had security pacing me the entire time. The authorities still haven’t caught the person who sent me the death threat, and I’m feeling caged in by all the safety measures. I always took precautions with a home security system, but now I’ve got a motion sensor in every room, not to mention around-the-clock guards.

  To try to pretend like none of this nightmare is happening, I’ve worked out to exhaustion in my exercise room and spent every evening sitting out on the patio with a single glass of wine. Hanging out in the dark with just the moon and the stars for company has been cleansing. The ocean breeze and salty air are soothing, but the ambience hasn’t helped my mood.

  Today though, my time on the balcony has started a bit early. It’s only early afternoon, and I’m finding myself out here by myself, searching for a sense of peace I can’t locate anymore.

  I miss Jasalie so much it’s ridiculous. I’ve picked up the phone a hundred times to call her or text her, but then I remember the deranged fan, and I stop myself.

  Jasalie’s so strong and is able to stand up for herself without blinking an eye. No confrontation ever seems too big for her. But if I kept her in my life, I’d be putting her in the position of having to constantly look over her shoulder. She already needs security guards following her around because of me, but that will end the longer we’re apart. Once people figure out that I’m single again, any negative attention on Jasalie will all but disappear. And then she’ll be safe. And we’ll both be alone again.

  My breath catches, and I’m overwhelmed by such a sense of loneliness I nearly drop my glass of wine over the balcony. Jasalie and I filled a hole for each other, a hole that nobody else could satisfy. She gave me everything I never even knew I missed, and I like to think I did the same for her. I can only hope she’ll be able to find that again someday because God knows she deserves it more than anyone.

  I don’t know what it’s like to grow up with nobody by your side like she did. To only have yourself to rely on. I can try to put myself in her position, but I feel like an arrogant asshole doing that.

  I stare down at the ocean below and realize that it’s time for me to take care of a few things, starting with the people in my inner circle I’ve taken far too much shit from over the years.

  I reach for the phone.

  Dante and I need to get on the same page if we’re going to work as teammates. He tells me he’s glad I called and is amenable and apologetic when I talk to him about what I’m upset about. We hang up with a promise to work out together next week and talk some more. My father and brother aren’t as easy, but they both mumble that I’m important to them and they don’t want to lose me. I know that in their own way, they mean it. By the time I reach my agent, I realize I have to fire him.

  “We’re on different paths,” I tell Tim. “You’ll work for me for the rest of the year, and that will give you time to plan. I know you already have a bunch of new clients. I truly appreciate everything you’ve done for me. I just need a change.”

  I’ve just hung up with him when my phone rings. I consider not picking up. But Cam won’t stop calling if he doesn’t reach me.

  I say hello, trying my best to mask my mood.

  “What the hell’s up with you?” he says immediately.

  “Nothing.”

  “We’re still in Montana except for Jenson, who alread
y flew back to Pennsylvania to be with his sons. But don’t worry because we’ve conferenced him in, plus Colton from Hawaii, so we’re all here on the line. I’m putting you on speaker phone now.”

  Oh, shit. Between the five of them, I don’t stand a chance.

  “I’m doing fine,” I say. “So all of you can quit bugging me, okay? I thought you losers were leaving Montana by now, anyway. You’ve been up there forever.”

  “We fly out tomorrow,” Ayden says. “And after you refused our invitation to come back up here and hang with us, we wanted to make sure you’re okay.”

  “I’m fine.”

  “No way,” Colton says through the line. “Something’s fucking off. What is it?”

  “Aren’t you on a honeymoon or something?” I say to him. “Go be with your wife.”

  “My wife insisted I make sure her second favorite person in L.A. is doing all right,” Colton says. “Her words.”

  My heart squeezes in my chest. “That’s sweet of her, but really, I’m good. I’m just taking some downtime. You know…without football.”

  “And without women?” Brayden’s low voice comes through the phone. “What about Jasalie?”

  “She’s…out of the picture.”

  Silence.

  “Why?” Jenson eventually asks the question I know is on everyone’s minds. “She’s clearly in love with you. And I don’t say that lightly, Dyl. It’s the absolute truth.”

  “He’s right,” Ayden says. “She loves you. And you clearly love her.”

  “I screwed up,” I say. “There’s this fan…”

  By the time I finish telling them what happened, they’re talking over each other.

  “You’re too hard on yourself about your career, Dyl.” Brayden’s voice is firm.

  “I’m worried about you, man,” Colton says.

  “I know I fucked up,” I say defensively. “But I did that by inviting Jasalie into my fucked-up world. By letting her go, I’m protecting her.”

  Silence hits the line again.

  “What’s her story?” Colton says finally. “Not to get nosy, but I’m trying to figure you two out so I can help you fix this shit and be happy again. In the short time I spoke to her, she sounded as scared of commitment as you.”

  I sigh. “Long story. She was a foster kid and…”

  “She didn’t have a family?” Colton says.

  “No.”

  “That’s got to be some hell for a kid,” Cam says with a long exhale.

  “Yeah. Understatement.”

  “So you need to show her that you won’t leave, too.” Brayden makes the idea sound easy. “Which is the opposite of what you did, by the way.”

  “Thanks, Bray.” I run my hand down my face. “I think I get it.”

  “The Dylan Wild we know never quits on anything,” Ayden says. “Not football games, and not on the people he loves. So fucking tell her you’re still waiting, why don’t you?”

  My other line buzzes, but I ignore it.

  I let out a low curse before spilling the whole truth. “Look, she said that what I did by breaking things off…she said it was essentially like me telling her she wasn’t worth the risk.”

  Another long silence…

  Broken by Brayden’s gruff voice saying, “So show her she’s wrong.”

  Something about the way he says it stings. It also hits home in a way nothing else could.

  “You’re right,” I say in a low tone. “Fuck. I have to go.”

  “Not so fast,” Colton says. “Before you go off half-cocked. Look, if this is still about Annabella…”

  “Colt, I’m warning you,” I say.

  “I don’t care,” he says in a hard tone, running right over me. “I’ve kept my mouth shut for too long about this, Dyl. You need to talk to someone about it. It’s been tearing you up for years, and I can’t stand to see you keep suffering. The fact that you’d go so far as to break up with the only woman you’ve ever loved…you have to work through this shit. It was years ago, and yet it’s still a part of your life.”

  My tone rises. “So what do you suggest I do?”

  “See a therapist.”

  Colton’s words stun me.

  “A therapist?” I say. “I wasn’t the one who was sick remember?”

  “I do, and I also remember how you blamed yourself, and apparently still do.” His voice softens. “Look, Sky gave me permission to tell you this—she has someone she recommends.”

  “Sky?” I swallow hard. “She sees a therapist?”

  “Yes. After her bastard of a father abused her and her mother, as you all know…”

  Sky’s father was finally put in prison for other crimes, and once that happened, she asked Colton to tell all of us the truth about her family. I always loved Sky, but once I heard what she’d gone through, I admired her even more for how she’d come through such a shitty childhood.

  “The therapist is excellent and specializes in past trauma,” Colton continues. “I can text you her info.”

  I look out over the balcony as I clench the phone so tightly my knuckles hurt.

  “You didn’t make Annabella sick,” Colton says quietly. “And maybe a professional can help you realize that.”

  “I don’t get why I should move on when…”

  “When she couldn’t?” Ayden says suddenly.

  I’d almost forgotten anyone else was on the line.

  “Because that’s life, Dyl,” Ayden says. “It’s not always fair or right; it just is. And Annabella is moving on—she’s alive and well right? She may not be in L.A. anymore, but she’s healing. Just like you should be.”

  I could tell them all to screw off, and just go find Jasalie and beg her to forgive me. But what if something like this happens again, something that pushes me in all the wrong ways, and I let my guilt consume me? I can’t go after Jasalie if I’m not committed to the future, and that starts with me letting go of my past.

  “Send me the info, Colt,” I say finally. “And tell Sky how much I appreciate her sharing it with me.” I pause. “And thanks for pushing me. You’re worse on the phone than on the practice field.”

  Colton chuckles. “Just wait till you have to start training with me again. You’ll regret saying that.”

  After we all hang up, my other line is still insistently buzzing. When I realize it’s Dale, I click over immediately. “Everything okay?”

  “Yes, Mr. Wild. Ms. Gordon is fine. I’m just checking in like you asked me to.”

  I exhale slowly. “Right. Good. How…” I rub the back of my neck, realizing I’m about to break all sorts of privacy protocol. “How is she doing?”

  A low chuckle comes through the line. “She’s doing fine.”

  I haven’t tried to inquire about Jasalie once, not even to find out if she went to Tucson or not. I’ve been dying to know, but I knew once I opened up Pandora’s Box, there’d be a whole mess of emotions sitting there for me to deal with. And until this moment, I didn’t think I could bear to feel them. Because until this moment, I’d given up on ever getting her back.

  “Good. So…has she asked about me?”

  “Boss.” Dale’s warning me.

  But I don’t care.

  “Dale. I know this is illegal, but I’m asking you as a friend. You and I have known each other for years, and I’ve never once paid for you to look out for someone else before. I’ve never…” Had someone in my life who could cut my heart in two. “I just need to know if…”

  “She hasn’t been with anyone else.”

  I release a shuddering breath.

  “She did ask me to pass on a message to you one time, however.” His voice is filled with humor.

  This should be good. “Do I want to know what she said?”

  “Not sure.”

  “Okay, just tell me.”

  “She said you could suck it.” He can barely get the words out before he breaks into laughter.

  “She said I could suck it.” I repeat the phrase. “I don�
�t think she meant that sexually.”

  “No.” He’s still laughing. “By the murderous look on her face, I’d say definitely not.”

  “Right.” An image of Jasalie glaring at Dale through his car window hits me. Hands on her hips, narrowed eyes, and spitting mad—I reach for my jeans to adjust myself. “Where are you right now?”

  “Mr. Wild…” The tone is firm now. Final.

  “Never mind. I’ll find out another way. Thanks, Dale. You’ll get a bonus this week for putting up with my interrogation.”

  I end the call and call Marcus.

  “Hey,” I say as soon as he answers. “I need Lilla’s phone number.”

  CHAPTER THIRTY-FOUR

  Jasalie

  “Lilla, what are you doing?” I say as she comes up behind me at the gallery and starts fixing my hair around my shoulders.

  “I just want you to look your best.” She glances up at the clock. “You need to make sure you keep showing off these gorgeous waves in your hair.”

  “You already made me leave work an hour early so I could get a blowout at your favorite salon,” I say. “Not to mention, for lunch, you took me to the mall and wouldn’t let us leave until I’d tried on every dress in the store, and bought the most fitted one available. You called it my good luck dress.”

  I look down at the little black dress that comes to mid-thigh and somehow manages to highlight all my curves while still giving off a professional vibe.

  “And it’s all working.” Lilla beams as she gestures to the surprisingly decent-sized crowd at the gallery. “Look how much attention your sculptures are getting.”

  As soon as I had set everything up, Lilla made sure to look at all my sculptures and give her assessments—

  “Awesome. Great. Perfect.” She ticked off one compliment after another as she pointed at each of my pieces.

  I laughed, but as the evening wore on, Theresa passed by several times and whispered in my ear that a few of the pieces were attracting a lot of interest.

  Yes, my first show has been amazing. To have interested buyers is something I didn’t imagine happening for years. And Theresa was so incredibly helpful—from her suggestions of how to set up my sculptures and where to attach the titles—she’s been nothing but great.