Dancer (The Good Guys Book 2)

by Jamie Schlosser

  The thought of losing not one, but two people I loved gave me a tight, unfamiliar feeling in my throat. I swallowed hard.

  Then I felt Ava’s little hand come up by the side of my face. When her fingers closed around my earlobe, I sucked in a breath and tried not to move.

  It was the butterfly moment all over again.

  She only did the ear thing to special people—people she loved and had a bond with. The fact that she was doing this with me? I never thought I could feel so happy and so devastated at the same time.

  As her thumb slowly rubbed back and forth, my heart cracked open and I did something I hadn’t done since my mother died—I cried.

  A lone tear glided down my right cheek as I blinked quickly, trying to get my eyes to dry up before anyone could witness it.

  Oblivious to my emotional meltdown, Ava sighed wistfully. “I yuv you sixty-seven pounds.”

  The first tear that fell was quickly followed by another, and I discreetly wiped them away and cleared my throat. “I love you, too, Bug.”

  Gazing out at the backyard, we sat that way for several minutes while I regained my composure. I knew it was time for me to leave. This was a happy occasion and I didn’t want to bring anyone down.

  Squeezing Ava one more time, I put her back on the ground as I stood up. I bent down to plant a kiss on the top of her strawberry-scented head.

  “I bet there’s cake inside. You’d better get in there before it’s all gone,” I told her, doing my best to sound upbeat.

  She gasped dramatically and ran up to the house, motivated by the threat that everyone might eat all the cake without her. I watched her disappear into the house.

  Reaching into the pocket of my jeans, I palmed the keys to my truck. I had no reason to go back inside. No reason to stay. I’d already left Ava’s gift—a My Little Pony house—amongst the other presents on the dining room table. I would’ve liked to watch her open it, but it was better this way.

  For the second time in a week, I forced myself to walk away from the girls who owned my heart.

  CHAPTER 43

  BRIELLE

  My dad came through the sliding glass door with a giant platter of hotdogs and hamburgers.

  “Lunch is ready,” he announced, putting the food down on the kitchen island between the potato salad and baked beans.

  Setting up the spread buffet-style, I placed a stack of paper plates and plastic silverware at the end next to the buns.

  Everyone started crowding around the food, and Aunt Tess literally started smacking her lips as she eyed the potato salad, so I moved out of the way. No one got between Aunt Tess and her potato salad.

  I found my mom standing by the window in the dining room, watching something through the glass.

  “What’s going on?” I asked, joining her.

  “That boy,” she started, pointing out at Colton who had Ava on his lap. “He’s a keeper.”

  I swallowed around the lump in my throat. She knew our relationship wasn’t on solid ground right now, but I hadn’t clued her in on the details.

  “I know,” I whispered.

  Because she was right. He was the keeper. I just wasn’t so sure about myself.

  As if she read my mind she turned to me, her expression soft. “And so are you.” Leaving my side, she patted me on the shoulder. “Aunt Tess is liable to eat up all the potato salad,” she muttered quietly, causing me to smile. “Don’t take too long to get in line.”

  Nodding, I went back to watching Colton and Ava. Just then, her hand came up to the side of his head and her fingers started rubbing at his ear.

  Gasping, my hands flew up to my face and my heart jumped in my chest. I’d never seen her do that to anyone but my dad and me.

  I knew that meant she loved Colton. That she felt safe with him. He was right—Ava did trust him to follow through.

  So why couldn’t I?

  CHAPTER 44

  COLTON

  Like always, Monday morning was slow at the shop. Usually, working on cars made me feel calm and content.

  But that wasn’t how I felt right now.

  Around noon, my dad told me he was closing up early and I could take off once I got my tools cleaned up. Maybe he could tell I was having a hard time. I hadn’t told him much about what was going on with Ellie—just that we were taking some time apart. The sympathetic look in his eyes told me I wasn’t doing a very good job of hiding my feelings.

  After I got off work I walked home, looking forward to popping open a beer and wallowing in self-pity once again. I had come full-circle from the day before my birthday.

  Frustrated. Defeated. Discouraged. I hated having a problem with no solution in sight.

  Unfortunately, when I opened the fridge, there was no beer to be found.

  Closing the door, I stood up and found myself face to face with Ava’s cardboard drawing. I had it taped to the front of the freezer door, proud to display my gift.

  Sadness weighed down on me as I looked at the stick figures she’d drawn with red and black crayon. Ava barely knew me at the time, but she’d included me in her picture.

  Suddenly, I felt like I couldn’t be here. I couldn’t sit around feeling sorry for myself in my apartment.

  So I did something I’d never done before—I walked across the street to the tavern for a drink. Alone.

  Since it was just past 1:00 in the afternoon, the place was pretty empty. I chose a seat in front of the bar and ordered a Coors Light. A throat cleared next to me and I saw Champ sitting two stools away, peering down at the glass of brown liquor in his hand.

  “Hey, Champ.”

  “Hey, Colton,” he replied without looking up. A minute of silence stretched between us before he spoke again. “Love troubles?”

  I let out a snort. “Actually, yeah. How’d you guess?”

  He smiled a little. “Young men, such as yourself, don’t come here alone during the day unless there’s trouble in paradise.”

  No one really knew Champ’s story, and I wondered if he was speaking from personal experience. He’d been labeled the town drunk for years. Everyone loved him but no one took him seriously.

  “It’s complicated,” I said, cringing at how lame that sounded.

  “It always is.” He swirled the glass in his hand before finishing it off.

  The bartender must have known the routine well because he quickly replaced his empty glass with a full one. Champ nodded his thanks before turning slightly in his seat to face me.

  “Did I ever tell you about Larry?”

  I smirked because I’d heard the name so many times, but I had no idea who he was. “Not directly, no.”

  “He was the love of my life,” he stated, and my eyes widened in shock.

  There was nothing wrong with being gay, but I was surprised he was coming right out and telling me that. Small-town people didn’t always have open minds.

  “It’s a modern world,” he said defensively, as if he knew my thought process. “And I’m too old to give a fuck what people think anymore.”

  I held my hands up.

  “No judgement here,” I told him honestly.

  He seemed to believe me and nodded his head before continuing. “We fought like cats and dogs, but he was my person. Thirty years ago, things weren’t so easy. Hiding our relationship was difficult. Things got tough and, instead of fighting through it, we gave up.”

  “I’m sorry,” I said, understanding how hard it must have been for him.

  He shrugged and tipped back his head, emptying the glass again. “I always thought we’d find a way back to each other, but he moved away. Then about a year after that, he went missing. Just poof.”

  He made a wild hand gesture in the air and he almost fell off the barstool before catching himself. His slurred words came out nonchalant, like it didn’
t matter. But, of course, I knew better.

  “I’m sorry,” I apologized again, not knowing what else to say.

  “He ended up on one of those shows…” He trailed off like he was having trouble finishing his thought. I had no idea how much he’d had to drink but his inability to pronounce words correctly suggested it was a lot. Snapping his fingers, he turned to me. “Unsolved missing persons. I think it was something like that.” Staring down at his empty glass, he started sliding it from one palm to the other, like he needed something to do with his hands. “I like to think he’s living it up on a beach somewhere, sipping on a Piña colada with his toes in the sand. But sometimes… Sometimes I let myself believe he might come back to me someday.”

  Champ’s story was really fucking sad. Now I felt bad for finding his midnight rantings amusing. He wasn’t crazy—he was heartbroken. Although, I guess sometimes the two went hand in hand.

  I lifted my beer to take a drink.

  He glanced over at me with bloodshot eyes. “If you want my advice? Don’t ever give up on something just because it’s hard.”

  My head turned to look at him so quickly I thought I heard something crack in my neck. He’d just said the exact same words my mom always said in my dream. That couldn’t be a coincidence.

  “Thanks, Champ,” I said, hopping down off the stool and abandoning my drink.

  I needed to get to Ellie. Make her listen to me. Make her realize I wasn’t giving up.

  But first, I had to make a stop and talk to the guy with all the wisdom.

  *

  “I need some advice,” I told my dad as I sat down on his couch, not bothering with small talk. “Relationship advice.”

  “The squeaky wheel gets the grease,” he spouted off one of his wise sayings, leaning back in the recliner.

  My lips tipped up because he was ridiculous. “That doesn’t exactly apply to the situation, Dad.”

  “Measure twice, cut once?”

  Still smiling, I shook my head. “Still not working. I don’t understand a lot about women, but I know Ellie’s scared. She’s afraid I won’t stick around, just like her asshole ex.”

  His face lit up as he thought of the next line. “You’re damned if you do and you’re damned if you don’t.”

  I chuckled. “Okay, you might be getting warmer with that one. But seriously. I don’t know what else I can do to show Ellie that I’m in this, that she can trust me.”

  Pausing, something a lot like regret filled his eyes. “I think I need to apologize to you, son. I’m sorry I didn’t help you stay in touch with Brielle.”

  “It’s not your fault, Dad. I’m the one who decided to stop writing to her.”

  “I’m the parent. You were just a kid. It was my responsibility to help you keep the friendship going. I could’ve driven you there. I could’ve encouraged you to call her.” He sighed and looked away. “I have a confession to make.”

  “What confession?” I asked, confused.

  “Brielle’s parents called a couple times after we moved… She wanted to talk to you but I told them you weren’t home. I didn’t lie about that—you really were out and about, probably raising hell with Travis, but I didn’t tell you to call her back on purpose.” I stared at him, speechless. But he wasn’t finished. “That’s not all. The spring after we moved… They called me again. Brielle wanted to see you and they offered to drive her here for a day.” He took a breath, as if what he was about to say was difficult. “I asked them not to. I told them not to come.”

  “What?” My voice came out in a harsh whisper. “Why?”

  “After we moved, I was happier. I felt better here. New town. New house. New friends. And you seemed happy, too. To tell you the truth, I wanted to cut all ties to the life we had before,” he said, staring down at his clasped hands. “Your mother would’ve been so disappointed in me.”

  “Dad,” I said, feeling shocked and betrayed.

  “I made a bad judgment call, based on my own selfish reasons. I’ve felt guilty about it for a long time. I’m so sorry, son.”

  Both of us were quiet for a minute as my dad hung his head in shame. As I looked at him—my hero, the man who had provided for me, the man who beat the odds by building a successful business in this town—the feelings of betrayal were quickly replaced with empathy.

  He’d lost his wife—his high school sweetheart, the woman he’d made a life with, the mother of his child. I couldn’t imagine what it would be like go through that.

  Looking over at the wall that displayed all our pictures, I took in the sight of the life he’d given me. Camping trips. Fishing at Elmer Lake. Blowing out ten candles on a birthday cake. Travis and me standing in front of the shop when we were teenagers, proudly wearing our new uniforms.

  “You did the best you could. I really believe that,” I told my dad, wanting him to know how grateful I was, regardless of his mistakes. “I’m not unhappy with the way things turned out. I just need to figure out how to get things back on track with Ellie.”

  Nodding, he scratched at his temple while he seemed lost in thought. “Well, I guess I’m pretty out of practice when it comes to love.” He shrugged. “If your mom were still here, she’d know what to do.”

  “You’re the most determined person I know,” I told him. “You never give up and I admire that about you. I think I’m a lot like you. What is it you always say? The apple doesn’t fall far from the tree?”

  “You think I was always this way?” He huffed out a laugh and shook his head. “Absolutely not. Your mother gave me one hell of a talking to before she passed away. She could tell I was going to have trouble picking up the pieces after she was gone. Said I couldn’t let you down like that. She taught me how to be driven to succeed. But you? You were born that way. You got that from her, not me. If you’re the apple, then she was the tree.”

  “I didn’t know that,” I said quietly, feeling like I was seeing my dad through new eyes. When my mom died, I’d been too young to remember much about her other than how she made me feel—safe and loved. “I remember the smell of her cooking and that she used to cry when she read me that book The Giving Tree. Sunflowers were her favorite and she hated the smell of roses. She was the best mom. I guess she would’ve had to be to raise someone as stubborn as me.”

  Smirking at my dad, I noticed his eyes looked misty.

  “Remember that time I said a swear word and she washed my mouth out with soap?” I asked, wanting to bring up a funny memory we could both laugh at. “That was some nasty shit, but I convinced her I liked the taste. Like it was some sort of treat or something. She never washed my mouth out again.”

  Dad guffawed. “That was quite the act you put on. I tried to tell her you were pulling her leg but she was convinced you loved the taste of soap. You even went as far as asking for it after dinner for dessert.”

  We both laughed again and it felt good to be able to talk about Mom this way.

  “If I could convince Mom that I wanted to eat soap, there’s gotta be a way to get Ellie to believe I won’t leave her,” I half-joked.

  “You’re going to need some kind of grand gesture, I suppose,” he suggested. “Something to show her you want to be with her forever.”

  “Forever…” I trailed off as the best idea ever came to me. Standing abruptly, I grabbed my truck keys from my pocket and rushed toward the door. “You’re a genius, Dad.”

  “I do what I can.” He was chuckling as I closed the door behind me.

  CHAPTER 45

  COLTON

  Ellie’s ex hadn’t been hard to track down. It was amazing what you could find out on the internet.

  Joshua Harrington—originally from Hemswell, Illinois—was now a resident of Frankford, Indiana. In high school, he was the second-string quarterback, runner-up for homecoming king, and almost valedictorian of his graduating class.

&nb
sp; That was the thing about Joshy-boy—everything about him was almost.

  Just like he’d almost ended up with the hottest woman ever. Just like he’d almost been a father to the coolest little girl in the world.

  He was the epitome of potential gone to waste.

  Snickering from behind some bushes, I watched as that sack of shit tried to put out the flaming sack of shit that was currently beneath the soles of his fancy-ass Sperrys. He rapidly stomped his feet to put out the fire while choking on the foul-smelling smoke. It was safe to say his shoes were ruined.

  That was confirmed when the whiny asshole practically shrieked, “Whoever did this, I’m going to find you! I just bought these shoes!” He angrily waved his fist in the air before going back to trying to scrape the burnt crap onto his front stoop. “Dammit,” he muttered before giving up, kicking off the shoes, and going back inside his upscale townhouse.

  Honestly, the trip to Frankford wasn’t necessary, but I was pissed and needed to take it out on someone. Things with Ellie had been great until she ran into her ex. He’d made her sad, made her question her self-worth, made her have doubts about our relationship.

  The fiery bag-o-poo prank was classic.

  Was it original?

  No.

  Was it juvenile? Immature? Petty?

  Yeah.

  Was it worth the two-hour drive?

  Hell yeah.

  The prank hadn’t been my original plan, though. At first, I’d wanted to confront him face to face. Have a nice little chat. Okay, maybe that wasn’t quite true. Maybe I wanted to punch him in the face a few times.

  But just as I had pulled up to the curb down the block, I saw him leave his house to go on a run with his Rottweiler. Not more than 20 feet away from my truck, the dog took a giant crap in the grass, and guess who didn’t bother to pick it up?

  That’s right—Joshy-boy.

  I just happened to have a paper bag and some matches in my truck.