Bare Assets

by M. L. Stephens

  "We were good together, Ang. Give us a chance to know one another again. I won't let you—us—slip away so easily. Not this time. Not without a fight."

  The vibration of her phone on the nightstand drew her attention. Staring at the caller's name, she debated whether or not to answer it.

  Glancing over to her phone, Cutter's chest expanded as he inhaled a deep breath and held it. "Are you going to get that?" he wondered aloud with anxious dread.

  "No," she whispered. With her feet firmly planted in this part of her past, she wasn't mentally prepared to deal with her future, especially the one flashing on her caller ID.

  Chapter 12

  "Am I scaring you?" ~ Dean

  Stretching her arms over her head, Angela woke from her nap, adjusted to the dark and quickly remembered she was in her old room. Grabbing the phone from the night stand, she glanced at the time. "Shit," she moaned. She had promised to check in with Dean once she made it to the farm, but hadn't. He had called once while she was having her serious talk with Cutter, but she'd purposely ignored it out of respect for her ex.

  It was 2 AM, but what the hell? Hitting his number, she rolled onto her back and waited.

  "Hey." The sound of Dean's masculine voice was reason enough to smile but the background noise made it difficult to hear.

  "Hey, sorry I didn't call sooner. Things were a bit crazy when I arrived, family reunion chit chat and all of that. I ended up crashing shortly after," she partially fibbed.

  "How'd that go?" he hollered.

  "Surprisingly enough, it was nice," she offered. "Where are you?" Not that it's any of my business.

  "I'm at the club."

  "What club?" she asked, perplexed.

  "Hey, let me call you back," he shouted.

  The call dropped before she could reply. Staring at the illuminated back screen of her phone as it dimmed, she couldn't help but wonder what Dean was doing at a club. Not that is was any of her business, but he had given the impression that he only went to one club—Bare Assets—and then it was only because he wanted to keep tabs on his cousin Candy. Strange.

  Knowing what she knew about him, it was difficult to picture him partying it up at any club. When he visited Bare Assets, he sat at the bar without watching the dancers, had a drink, ate a burger and that was it. No flirting with the staff or dancers, no tossing money at the girls, no lap dances, nothing. Just sit, drink, eat. There was obviously more to Dean than she knew.

  Mentally revisiting their previous conversations, she remembered him mentioning that he had investments. Maybe he did invest in clubs. After all, he had offered to invest in hers. Dean Murray was a mystery that she wanted to learn more about.

  The back screen lit up again. Seeing that it was Dean, she answered. "Hey."

  "Hey, I apologize for the noise earlier. I wasn't expecting you to call so late…or early rather."

  Angie could hear the sound of a car door closing. "Are you leaving the club just so you can talk to me? We can talk tomorrow if you need to go." What else was she supposed to say to the man who had rocked her world but that she wasn't officially dating?

  "I would rather talk to you than sit in a club, and to be honest, I was leaving anyway."

  His smile radiated through the phone as he talked, turning her insides turn to jelly and leaving her momentarily speechless.

  "Do you still plan to drive back today?"

  "As far as I know. Cutter and my brother insist that he stay at my place until the investigation is finished, though. They have taken my original fear and blown it completely out of proportion."

  "Not that it's my place to say, but I actually think having someone around is a good idea."

  "What? You can't be serious. Entertaining an ex-boyfriend is never a good idea."

  Laughter reached her ears. "I can't say I've entertained one other than yours, so I wouldn't know."

  "Smart ass," she replied with a cocky grin. "I'd much rather entertain you."

  "Oh, how I do love to be entertained," he teased. A comfortable silence passed between them.

  "I can't wait to see you," he finally said, breaking the stillness of the conversation. The husky tone and intent behind the statement released a flurry of butterflies within her chest.

  "I can't wait to see you, either," she whispered. "Are we crazy?" Their relationship was naturally easy and at times it felt as if they had been together for years rather than days.

  "I am one hundred percent certified crazy about you, if that counts." If he could reach through the massive array of satellites and cell towers to touch her face, he would.

  Without attempting to disguise her glee, she answered, "It absolutely does."

  "Then it's official. I am crazy. What about you, Angela. Are you crazy?"

  The flirtatious question caused the butterflies in her torso to spread to her stomach. Swallowing back her fear, she took a leap of faith. "I am," she whispered. The softness of her voice didn't reflect the heavy pounding of her heart as it drummed against her breastbone, threatening to burst out of her chest.

  Another moment of silence passed as the coquettish confession lingered. "Can I tell you something?" he asked.

  "Sure." Not wanting to miss a single word of what he might say, she held her breath with eager anticipation.

  "I like you…a lot."

  "I like you, too." Giggling seemed to come easy these days.

  "I don't think you understand. I really like you." You can't possibly know how much, he thought.

  "I really like you, too." I haven't felt this way about anyone in six years, she mused but didn't share. It wasn't her style to rush into anything, but this was different. This felt right.

  "Am I scaring you?" he quizzed light heartedly.

  "Not yet," she teased. "Am I scaring you?"

  "Yes." The stoic tone stopped her heart and sent it barreling to her feet. Unable to move, she waited for him to say more.

  "You scare the shit out of me, Angela Fletcher."

  "Why?" she asked shakily, trying to swallow her confusion. "What did I do?"

  "The strong lioness who lovingly shifts into a purring kitten with the slightest touch of my hand, asks me what she's done? You've taken my heart captive and now I'm forced to entrust it to you completely. You've reached into my soul and laid claim to a part of my spirit that I thought had been lost. That's what you've done."

  Breathe, Angie. Breathe. Clutching the phone to her ear, she finally took a ragged gasp but couldn't speak.

  "I haven't felt this way about anyone in a long time. The fact that it happened so unexpectedly is what frightens me. My life was perfectly mapped out until you swept the lonely carpeting from under my feet and knocked me flat on my ass. What am I going to do with you?" he asked, thankful that she couldn't see the liquid admission collecting in his eyes.

  Mentally clawing away the jadedness that shrouded the trust portal to her brain, she rummaged through the fragmented remnants in search of a response. Her tongue, heavy with shock, refused to cooperate with the movement of her lips, so he only heard the faint sound of her trembling pant.

  "Now are you afraid?" The question stumbled out before he could stop himself, but now that it had, he wanted to know.

  Yes," she murmured into the purple box pressed against her ear.

  "Tell me why."

  "You know why," was the feeble reply.

  "Let me hear you say it."

  "We don't even really know one another." Her argument sounded subdued.

  "That wasn't what I asked," he stated.

  "I know."

  "Then tell me. Why are you afraid?"

  "Because I feel the same," she confessed. It was impossible to tell through the phone, but it sounded as if he exhaled a sigh of relief.

  "Angela?"

  "Yes?" As the mental image of him flashed to the forefront of her mind, she squeezed her eyes closed and imagined what it would be like if he were here with her now.

  "Are you ready for this?"

>   "Am I ready for what?"

  "For us," he answered.

  "I think so," she replied.

  "Hurry home."

  "I will," she promised.

  Ending the call, she inspected the backlit screen and pondered the possibility of a future with a man she barely knew. Naturally they would come to know one another as they dated, but remarkably she felt as if only a malicious turn of events or the discovery of horrid secrets buried in his past could make her change her mind.

  Who would have guessed that the man who sat at her bar once per week for two long years would unexpectedly storm into her personal life and sweep her away in a hurricane of acceptance. Never, not even when she was with Cutter, had she felt so adored. It had taken a long time, but she was finally ready to cast aside the ridiculous notion that all men were creeps and take a chance on love. Scratch that, she was ready to take a chance on Dean. Love might or might not follow suit, only time would tell. One thing was sure; she’d have a good time while waiting to find out.

  Content with the outcome of her raging thoughts, she put her phone on the charger, cradled the pillow underneath her head and drifted back into the arms of peaceful slumber.

  ********

  Dean ended the call with Angela and leaned his head back against the seat. Having reached his driveway, he pulled up and sucked a long draw of oxygen into his lungs. With the car still running, he sat in the quiet interior of his automobile and glared at the lifeless house in front of him. The brick structure was once filled with vibrancy, hope and love. Now it sat cold and lifeless.

  Baskets of colorful flowers once adorned the porch, but that was the past. The flowers had long ago died from neglect and he eventually had to remove them. The foyer light that once lovingly welcomed him home each night hadn't been flipped on in ages.

  A life without love was a lonely existence and he had denied himself a life and the right to love for too long. He yearned to come home to a house saturated with the aroma of home cooked meals and laughter. Instead, when he opened the door, he was greeted by a deafening silence that echoed in his mind and tore at his heart. Never in a million years, did he think that he would find someone who would make him want to let go of the very thing he had held on to.

  Turning off the car, he continued to sit and stare as he mentally relived memories of his past. The house had once been a home, but not anymore.

  Flipping down the visor, he glanced at the aging picture hidden behind it and tenderly tugged it from its resting place. Running a fingertip across the image, his lips tightened at the corners as a drop of tear splashed down upon the glossy figure smiling up at him. Wiping the moisture from the photo, he continued to gaze down at the face of the woman who had once filled his life with unimaginable joy.

  Chapter 13

  "You do not want to fuck with me." ~ Dean

  Hours later, as the sun announced the arrival of a new day, Dean, still sitting in his car clutching the photograph, wiped at his tear streaked face. There was something he had to do, something he couldn't put off a minute longer. Laying the image on the passenger seat, he shifted his car into gear and drove.

  With only his thoughts to keep him company, he navigated traffic. His eyes burned from the tears he had shed throughout the night, making it difficult to see clearly, but this journey was long overdue. It had taken a remarkable woman such as Angela to help him come to face his demon. Life doesn't always turn out the way a person intends, but it often turns out the way it was meant.

  After a brief stop at the florist, he avoided further delays and within an hour he had reached his destination. Parking the car, he lifted the photo and flowers from the passenger seat and made his way to her, much as he had done so many times before. This time however, the visit would be different.

  Walking down the path he had traveled hundreds of times, he approached. Kneeling down, he pressed his hand against the cold marble of his wife's gravestone and read her name a dozen times, just as he had each time he visited.

  "Hello, Aubrey," he said, placing the flowers and her photo at the base of the stone. "I know I haven't been around much the last few days, but things have been crazy. I need to tell you something and I hope you'll understand.

  "Every single day for the past two years, seven months and sixteen days, I have missed you. My life ended when you left and I desperately wanted to die alongside of you. I hated God for taking you from me and I hated myself for not being the one who was taken. I can't tell you how many times I've thought about that day and of the dozen things I wish I had said to you before you left for work," he said mournfully.

  "Every day for two months after you were taken from me, I stared at our front door, waiting for you to walk in and tell me that you weren't really gone, to say that it wasn't you who had been killed in the auto accident. It took nearly a year for me to part with your clothing and personal belongings and it took longer before I could wash your pillow. I used to spray it with your perfume and hold it against my chest, wishing to God that it was you, but I finally realized that nothing I do will bring you back to me.

  "If I had known that morning would be the last time I held you in my arms and made love to you, I would have loved you longer and harder than I ever had. I would have tied you to the bed and never let you leave. God, Aubrey," he moaned. Taking the time to calm his emotions, he studied each tiny nick of her stone and ran his fingers over the engraving of her name.

  "After losing you, I fully expected to spend the rest of my life alone, grieving. Then it hit me. If you were here now, you would be furious at me for wallowing in my self-pity and denial. You would be disappointed in the man I allowed myself to become."

  Holding up the photo so that it faced the stone, he showed it to the cold marble as if it could see. "I've carried this photo with me everywhere I go. It's my favorite. Your smile was always so big and genuinely warm, your eyes so full of life. This photo captured the true essence of the amazing, generously loving woman that you were. You touched those around you with warmth and compassion and never met a stranger. I miss that. I will always miss that."

  Turning the photo back to him, he looked at it. "Aubrey, I've met someone. We just started seeing one another so there's no way of knowing how our relationship will pan out, but I didn't want to move to the next level without telling you. I really think you'd like her. She's intelligent, funny and she makes me happier than I've been in a long time." Resting his head against the uncaring stone, he closed his eyes and took a deep breath.

  "I guess what I'm saying, Aubrey, is that it's time for me to move on. I have struggled with this a lot lately. I can't change the fact that you're gone and no one will ever erase the memories or the love that we shared, but you're never coming back to me. It's taken me a long time to fully understand that I can't continue denying myself a life. I've forgiven myself for letting you leave for work that day and I hope you can forgive me for finally letting go."

  Lifting his head from the marker, he again traced the letters of her name. "There's a part of my heart that will always belong to you, but it's time for me to share what's left of me with someone new. I'll forever love you and I'll never forget. Please know that I need this. I don't want to be alone anymore. I promise to never forget how unselfishly and fully we loved. I promise never to forget how you made me laugh every day and how you wrinkled your nose at my jokes. I promise never to be anything but happy from this day forward, because happiness is what you gave to me. Above all, I promise never to allow anyone or anything to minimize the importance of what we had.

  You were my life's story, but that story ended when you left. It's time for me to write a new chapter in my continuing story. I only hope that wherever you are, you are smiling down and most of all, I hope you understand. I'll love you for all of eternity, Aubrey Hope Murray. Thank you for giving me the best of you and for teaching me what love truly means."

  Pushing himself up from his knees, he unpackaged the bouquet of flowers, gently placing them in the cemetery
vase. After kissing his fingers, he pressed them against the marble then reached down and picked up the photo. Holding it loosely, he turned to walk away. As he stepped onto the path, a noise from behind caught his attention. Casting a glance over his shoulder, he located the culprit. A dove had perched on his wife's stone. Cocking its head to the side, it seemed to consider him before cooing. Swiveling his body around, he looked at the bird and mouthed two simple words to what he thought was a sign from his wife. "Thank you."

  With another coo and a flap of the wings, the dove soared into the sky, leaving him to smile as a peaceful serenity washed over him. Aubrey had given her blessing.

  *********

  "I'll get it," Cutter yelled from the living room.

  Angie was glad to be home and couldn't wait to see Dean. She had texted to let him know she was back in town, but hadn't heard back from him yet so she couldn't imagine who would be knocking on her door.

  "Angie, it's for you," he barked.

  What a big freaking surprise, she thought. This is my house.

  Turning down the stove so the food wouldn't burn, she walked into the foyer. Her eyes grew as wide as basketballs as she took in the extravagant display of flowers hovering in the entryway. "You've got to be kidding me." Both hands flew to her mouth as she gasped with surprise. "Who are they from?"

  "You get one guess," the voice behind the flowers said.

  "Dean! You shouldn't have," she exclaimed.

  "Where would you like me to set them?" he asked.