by Tara Wyatt
Don’t do it, Carly. Don’t say what I think you’re going to. Don’t ask me for things I can’t give. Don’t wreck us.
But it was too late, because when he didn’t say anything she continued on, squaring her shoulders as though going into battle. “I don’t want what we have to just be pretend, Dean. I want it to be real. And I don’t want it to be over. I . . . I have feelings for you, real ones, and I think we owe it to ourselves to see where this could go.”
He let out a soft curse and scrubbed a hand over his face. “We had a deal.” He felt as though she’d convinced him to walk a tightrope and had just yanked his safety net away. A flicker of anger rose up, but he squashed it down. He didn’t want to fight with her.
Some of the light went out of her eyes, and she pulled the sheet tighter around herself, hiding her body from view. Shielding herself. “I know we did, and I’m sorry, but it’s so good between us. I know it’s a big step, but I think what we have is worth taking a chance on. Don’t you?”
He sat up, his stomach churning, panic tightening his lungs. “I can’t.”
She sighed, her shoulders deflating. “Can’t, or won’t?”
“Does it matter? I’m not the guy for you, Carly. I can’t give you what you want.” He shoved his hands through his hair. “Fuck, this is what I was afraid would happen. This was a mistake. I’m sorry.”
“So you’re telling me that none of this meant anything to you?” She picked at a loose thread in the sheets, shaking her head.
“Of course it meant something to me,” he said, his voice rising as his frustration and fear made it hard to think.
“But you’re still not willing to date me when we get home? To see what we could have, together, for real?”
“You want something I can’t give.” He met her gaze, which was completely shuttered now. “And you know that.”
“God, that’s such utter bullshit. And you know that.” She took a breath. “I thought we had something real. Something worth fighting for.” Her voice broke on the last word, but she continued on. “You told me I was enough.”
His heart slammed against his ribs, and a part of him wanted to pull her into his arms and tell her that she was enough, that she was so much more than just enough. But he didn’t. He was too paralyzed by fear and doubt.
“And I meant it,” he finally managed, his voice hoarse.
“And you care about me.” Her voice was flat.
“Of course I do. But how I feel about you doesn’t change who I am. Just because I care about you doesn’t mean I’m not completely wrong for you. I’ll hurt you.”
She got out of bed, taking the sheet with her. “Too late.” She stopped halfway to the bathroom, the white cotton bunched around her, dragging on the floor. Pain-filled eyes met his, and he felt nauseous, knowing he’d done that. Knowing he couldn’t fix it.
“You, Dean Grayson, are an idiot.” She turned and went into the bathroom, the door closing with a soft click behind her.
* * *
Carly sat by herself in the open air lobby, drinking a cappuccino and picking at a breakfast pastry she didn’t want. She’d known that she had to take a chance with Dean, to be honest about how she felt. She just hadn’t expected it to go that badly. He’d been open and vulnerable with her, happy and fun, and yet he still couldn’t see past his baggage to what they could have.
He wasn’t willing to take a chance on them, despite how good things had been, and God, that hurt. She’d found him—the man who checked every box on the list, and then some—but he didn’t want to be with her.
She sighed, swirling her spoon through the foam. After she’d set fire to their relationship, she’d quickly gathered up her things and retreated to the lobby, needing some space. To think, and sulk, and throw herself a little pity party.
Rejected. Again. But this one really hurt, because he knew her, better than almost anyone on the planet, and he’d said no.
She was such an idiot, and so was he.
“This seat taken?” Rose stood at the edge of the table, a cup of tea in her hands. She wore a light pink velour tracksuit, and had a pink passion flower tucked behind her ear, the color vibrant against her white curls.
“No, go ahead,” said Carly, gesturing at the empty wicker chair.
Rose sat, giving Carly a long look. “What’s wrong, honey?”
Carly’s eyes stung and her throat thickened. What was it about that question that always got to her? “Dean and I . . .” She trailed off and shrugged.
“You had a fight?”
“Something like that.”
Rose patted her hand reassuringly. “I’m sure you’ll work it out. I’ve seen the way he looks at you.”
Carly’s heart caught in her throat. “And how’s that?”
“Like your happiness is what makes him happy. Like you’re the most extraordinary creature he’s ever seen. Like he’s completely lost in you.” Rose nodded knowingly. “That, my dear, is a man in love.”
Carly couldn’t stop the bitter laugh from escaping her lips. “No, he’s not.” He was an idiot, but surely he wasn’t such a fool that he’d let her walk away if he actually loved her.
“Trust me. I’ve lived through a World War, more recessions than I can count, and lost two wonderful husbands along the way. I’ve learned a few things in all my decades on this planet, and one of them is what a man in love looks like.”
Carly nibbled at her pastry, and decided to come clean. “We’re not really a couple, just friends. We were only pretending because Mike is my ex-boyfriend, and so that Dean’s family wouldn’t harp on him about his reputation with women.”
Rose leaned back in her chair, sipping on her tea. “Ah. Well, you certainly had me fooled.”
“We were pretending . . . until we weren’t. Things got real, and I told him I wanted to keep dating when we got home. He didn’t want the same thing.”
Rose took another sip of her tea. “He does. He just doesn’t know it yet.”
“How can you be so sure?”
“Because what comes easy doesn’t last. It’s the things you fight for that endure. And it sounds like you’ve got a fight on your hands, my dear.”
“I put it all out there, and he turned me down.” She glanced up at Rose. “He thinks he’ll hurt me, that he doesn’t know how to be what I need.”
“Well, isn’t that a lovely load of horseshit?”
Carly laughed despite her low mood. “That’s basically what I said.”
“He’ll come around. Don’t lose hope.”
Carly nodded, but she wasn’t sure how she could hope for something that wasn’t even real. Right now, she didn’t have room for anything except how much she hurt.
* * *
“You know, for someone who just got back from Mexico, you sure are in a shitty mood.” Haley, one of the servers at the Tipsy Bison shot Carly a pointed glare as she set her tray down on the bar.
“No,” said Carly defensively, filling Haley’s tray with bottles of Snake River and Bud Light. She set one of the bottles down too hard, causing it to foam over. “Shit. Sorry, hang on.” She grabbed a rag from behind the bar and mopped up the mess she’d made before replacing the overflowing bottle with a fresh one. “Okay, so maybe I’m a teeny bit grumpy,” she conceded, wiping up a few stray drops of beer from the bar.
“You wanna talk about it?”
Carly smiled and then shook her head. “No. Thanks, though.”
Since they’d returned a few days ago, Carly had been doing her best to stay out of Dean’s path at work. After the way he’d rejected her, she didn’t know what to say to him. She was hoping that with time, maybe she’d figure out a way to salvage their friendship. If there was anything left to salvage. She’d fallen for him, put her heart on the line, and he’d rejected her. She wasn’t sure there was a way to bounce back from that. And given that he wasn’t exactly talking to her either, the odds of anything happening weren’t good.
A part of her wanted to hang on t
o Rose’s words, about Dean being in love with her and just needing time, about not losing hope, but what if Rose was wrong? And if Rose wasn’t wrong, how did Carly make him see all of that when he was so determined to be alone?
“Okay . . .” Haley hesitated, then picked up her tray and started to move away, but then just as quickly, turned back around and set it down again. “Did something happen? With you and Dean?”
Carly felt her cheeks heat. “No,” she said, her voice just a little too loud. “Why . . . I mean, like, why would you think that?”
Haley glanced around before leaning on the bar. “You guys are friends, but then you go to Mexico together and come back and it’s all weird and awkward. You’re slamming things around behind the bar like it’s a royal rumble back there and Dean’s sitting in his office sulking.”
“You think he’s sulking?”
“He’s definitely not himself. Something’s up with him. He seems . . . I dunno,” Haley shrugged. “Sad, or something.”
Carly stared down at the bar, moving her cloth in slow circles. If Dean was sad, maybe that meant that he missed her?
Or maybe he was just sad that they’d ruined their friendship for a few days of hot sex. Since that’s all it had been to him, apparently.
“Do you want to come over tonight, after we get off?” asked Haley. “I promise I won’t pry, but maybe a movie night will help you take your mind off of whatever it is that did or didn’t happen with you and Dean in Mexico.”
Carly nodded. She could definitely use a distraction. In the short time she’d been back, all she’d done was replay their time together in Mexico, torturing herself with what she couldn’t have. “Sure. That sounds great. Thanks.”
Haley nodded and winked. “You bring the pinot and I’ll pick up some Ben and Jerry’s.” She picked up her tray again and headed toward her tables.
Carly smiled, relieved that she wouldn’t be spending another night home alone, pining after a man who didn’t want her, or who wasn’t willing to take a risk for her. Enough was enough.
Dean emerged from his office, a sheaf of papers in his hand. Carly tried not to notice the way his gray T-shirt clung to his chest as he moved, but it was too late. Memories came flooding back, one after another. Kissing Dean on the beach. Making raging salmon jokes. Skinny dipping. Dean’s fingers brushing her hair off her neck as he fastened the necklace he’d bought her. The intense, romantic sex they’d had the night of Luke and Christie’s wedding.
It was all too much, and she tried to push it aside because thinking that all of that hadn’t been real . . . holy shit, it hurt.
Dean looked up from his papers and stopped short when he saw her behind the bar. “Uh . . . hey.”
“Hey.”
Silence hung between them. Carly turned away and began slicing up some limes, even though there were already plenty ready to go. She could feel him behind her, his eyes on her back as she worked, and she willed him to say something. As though if she wished hard enough, she could make him say the words she wanted to hear. The words Rose had said she should have faith would come.
Dean cleared his throat. “We’re going to start stocking a few things from that new brewery, Liberty Peak.”
She nodded and kept slicing. “’Kay.”
“They’ve uh . . . they’ve got a really good cream ale, and a vanilla porter that won some awards, so . . .”
“Mmmhmm. Sounds good.” She set the knife down and forced herself to turn around and face him. Giving him a chance to say something meaningful. Waiting. Hoping.
He opened and closed his mouth, and then nodded before heading back to his office. So close, yet so incredibly out of her reach.
Chapter Ten
Dean sat in his office, trying to work on the schedule for the next two weeks, but his eyes kept drifting away from his computer and through his open door to the woman behind the bar. He could only see the far corner of the bar, catching glimpses of her as she moved. She laughed at something a customer said, the sound hitting him like a punch in the gut.
God, he missed her.
And, if he was honest with himself, he missed them. Together.
For probably the hundredth time, he pulled his phone out of his pocket and opened the picture of the two of them together at the rehearsal dinner—the one he’d asked Mike to take. They were both smiling, eyes bright. His heart clenched, because he wanted to go back and re-live those moments with her.
There was a sharp rap on his open office door, and he looked up to find Matt in his doorway. Even though he’d seen him a week ago in Mexico, Dean was happy to see Matt again. Lord knew he could use a friendly face.
“Hey, man, come on in,” he said, waving his cousin inside. “I thought you were headed back to Seattle?”
Matt shook his head. “We flew from Mexico to Denver to visit Ellie’s parents for a few days, and then came up here. Get some clean Wyoming air, spend some more time with Ethan and Mom and Dad.”
“You want something to eat? I can get the kitchen to whip something up.”
Matt smiled. “Wouldn’t say no to a burger and a beer.”
Dean stood. “Let’s go grab a table. I need to get out from behind this desk.” He moved toward the kitchen, Matt following him. As he passed the bar, he nodded awkwardly at Carly, who glanced at him and then looked away, busying herself with something. Dean pointed Matt toward a booth in the back, and then ordered their food.
“Hey, Carly. Can I get two Blue Moons?” he asked, knowing it was Matt’s favorite.
She stared at him for a second, not saying anything, as though she were waiting. Then she sighed, pulled two bottles from the fridge and popped the tops off, sliding them over to him. She moved away, shaking her head.
A dull ache radiated through his chest. He’d never realized it was possible to miss someone even when they were standing right in front of you, but he missed Carly all the time.
He picked up the beers and sat down in the booth Matt had chosen, passing one to him.
Matt took a sip and then tipped his bottle toward the bar. “What’s that all about?”
“What?”
“Don’t give me that. You and Carly. You were nuts about each other less than two weeks ago and now it’s frostier than the North Pole in here.” Matt took another sip of his beer. “What did you do?”
Dean took a sip of his own beer. “What makes you think I’m the one who did something?”
Matt said nothing, merely arched an eyebrow.
Dean sighed, giving in. “Fine. Yeah. It was me. I fucked everything up.”
“How? She was clearly crazy about you.”
Dean opened his mouth, ready to tell Matt to mind his own business, but instead, he started unburdening himself, telling Matt the whole story from the beginning, not leaving anything out. It was cathartic, pouring everything out, and he didn’t even pause when their food came, letting it sit in front of him.
Matt listened with a wry smile, not saying anything until Dean had finished. Then he pursed his lips and nodded. “You know, if everyone would just listen to me the first time around, their lives would be so much easier.” He leveled his clear blue gaze at Dean. “Do you remember what I told you? The night of the rehearsal dinner?”
Dean nodded. Truth be told, he’d replayed Matt’s words more than once.
Life is short, and it’s better to live it and risk losing something, to risk the pain that comes with it, than to not live at all.
“Yes or no, you want to be with her?” asked Matt, pointing at him with a French fry.
“Yes.” Carly was right. What they’d had had been real. Or at least it had been, until he’d let fear win. He’d never given them a chance, and now he’d lost her. She was barely speaking to him, barely looking at him.
“Then, dude, you gotta stop holding yourself hostage to your past. You spent so much time worrying that you were going to hurt her that it became this self-fulfilling prophecy. If you want to be with her, go fucking be with her.”
Dean nodded and chewed his burger slowly. He suddenly had a new appreciation for the way she’d put herself out there when she’d told him about her feelings. She’d done a hard, brave thing, and he’d practically run out of the room with his tail between his legs.
He didn’t want to be scared anymore. He didn’t want to live his life in fear.
He wanted to be with her, and that want was bigger than the fear. He’d been vulnerable with her, and . . . it had felt good. Right. And like an asshole, he’d rejected her when she’d wanted to pursue what had been simmering between them for a long time. The trip, with the sex, had simply taken things to a new level.
“So what are you going to do?” asked Matt, wiping at his mouth. “What have you tried so far?”
“Uh . . . pretty much dick fucking all.”
“Okay, well, A: you’re an idiot; and B: you need to come up with a game plan before it’s too late.”
Dean nodded again, trying to figure out how to show Carly that he wanted another chance. That he knew he’d fucked up, and that he was sorry, and have her believe him. He and Matt spent the rest of their meal talking about other stuff—sports, the weather, Matt’s upcoming wedding—but Dean was only half checked in to the conversation.
They finished their meals, and after Matt left, Dean headed back to his office, trying to figure out what to do.
At the soft rap on his door, he jerked his head up. Carly stood in the doorway. Her shift had just ended, and she had her purse slung over her shoulder.
“Hey, I need to talk to you,” she said, stepping into his office.
He felt as though he’d been hit with a ray of sunshine after weeks of rain. Hope.
“Sure. You want to sit down?”
She shook her head, her eyes searching his. For what, he wasn’t sure. “I got a new job. So I guess this is my formal notice, or whatever, that I’m quitting.” She toyed with the strap of her purse.
All that hope vanished, leaving a gaping black hole in his chest. “What?”
“I thought I could still work here, but I can’t. It’s too hard, seeing you every day. I’ll finish up the week, but then that’ll be it.”
