Sunrise Fires

by LaBarge, Heather

  “But, why? Why’d you say it? Why do you feel that way?”

  He opened my condo door and let me go in first. Closing the door behind him, he leaned against it. “Because I can’t see straight when we’re sexually involved. Because you drive me crazy, and you know it. Because I don’t want that again until I am sure that I want all of this again.” He pointed back and forth between us.

  “‘All of this?’ What’s that supposed to mean?”

  “It means I love you, but we’ve both got scars, or, at least, wounds that need to heal. Tonight was an amazing start to that. Better than I expected to be honest. But that doesn’t bring me back to the man I was before Germany. It doesn’t make me want to beg to be your husband like I used to. It makes me cautiously optimistic about the potential that we can work this out.” He took my hand and led me to the bedroom. “Look, I love you. I just don’t want sex to make us run away with this thing. I can’t wait to have sex with you one day again. And parts of me want that more than others. You aren’t the only one complaining about the new boundary.” He stroked my cheek. “I have no doubt that any problem we are going to have won’t originate in the bedroom. I don’t want sex to be the fix to problems that do arise. I want it to be an addition to something that is already put back together.”

  “I want that, too.” I looked him over once, allowing my eyes to linger at his waistband and just below. “But you have no idea how I’ve missed it,” I said in an impish voice.

  “Fuck, baby. Me, too.” He pulled me onto the bed, and we crawled towards the pillows together. “You think I don’t miss that? Your sex was amazing, your body is ridiculous, and your enthusiasm and playfulness get me hard just to think about it.” He lay on his back and motioned for me to nestle in. “I can still remember parts of you so clearly that my hands can almost feel them again…on their own.”

  I lay on my side, head on his chest, one leg on top of him, and the other straight down beside his. He stroked my back and the side of my body, tracing a line from my lower ribs down to my waistline and up to the rise of my hips. I wanted to protest that making our bodies wait was asinine and high school-ish, but the sound of his heartbeat in my ear, trace of his hand at my side, and the feel of the warmth of him beside me all conspired with exhaustion to silence me.

  I woke up alone; a note beside me on the bed. He had to get back to Vegas. He didn’t want to wake me. Call him when I get up. He loves me—still. That last sentence carried me through the next week.

  Chapter Nineteen

  Over the next series of weeks, Ryan and I once again found footing. We started off dating ‘with no expectations,’ and moved rather quickly back to being exclusive. I was hopeful that we might still find what we had lost.

  I also made time to meet Jackie for lunch and discussed with her how Ryan knew so much about my time in Germany. As we ordered our deli sandwiches, I pressed her for an explanation. She said she’d seen him at the grocery store and spilled the beans about everything. Right there in the frozen section, all of my heartache and pain was dragged out. I mused at how fitting it was that it happened in the frozen section. It turns out that Ryan had been just as confused and angry as I had been. He’d not told her that his father died, only that he’d had some things to deal with and couldn’t come to Germany.

  “Jen, he was furious! You should have seen when I called his name. He spun around as if the Grim Reaper was calling after him, and he wasn’t prepared to go without a fight. I tried to ask how he was and stuff, but he was giving me short choppy one word answers through gritted teeth. It kind of pissed me off, so I got a little mad and asked if he was dating again and if he was happy. But of course, I didn’t give a shit if he was happy at all – I was just so angry that he was being such a prick! Before he could answer, I told him that you weren’t happy—not for a long time—and then I told him how much you had loved him, how he broke your heart, and how miserable you were and stuff. Mostly, I was trying to make him feel bad for being such a douche and leaving you like that. And when he said he just had ‘stuff to deal with,’ please! I was totally done with him and the conversation. Stuff?! Really? That’s the best he could do?”

  “Why didn’t you tell me?”

  “Are you serious? You’ve been such a basket case about him, constantly picking this thing apart and never really getting closure. Fuck, every time his name gets mentioned your eyes roll to the back of your head and you start huffing and sighing like you’ve run a marathon. No thank you. And to be honest,” her toned softened and she glanced at the floor before continuing, “I didn’t want to open the wound that finally seemed to be healing. You had finally moved on and bringing up the ‘frozen foods’ incident might have slowed that down. I mean really…” the spark in her eyes returned. “What would have been the point? He didn’t tell me anything except maybe that he didn’t have any better excuse than you did for the breakup.”

  “His dad died, Jackie,” I said, feeling surprisingly defensive on his behalf.

  “Damn! Really?! Well, he could’ve said as much! And…” She paused and looked around. “I wish there was a crowd of people here to hear me say this: I was right! I told you in Venice that something happened! I told you!”

  I rolled my eyes and shook my head. “Yes, Jackie, you did. Eat it up. Say whatever you want. You were right, and I was wrong. I was too insecure to see it, and it cost me—a lot.”

  “Have you told Talia yet?”

  “Yes.”

  “And did she say that she told you so, too?”

  “No, I think she is reserving that moment for later…maybe when we see each other face to face.” I laughed genuinely.

  Jackie laughed, too.

  “I deserve it, I suppose. At least, from you two.” I smiled at her.

  “It doesn’t matter now. I can’t wait to see what happens next with you two. So, how’s it been going so far?”

  Conversation faded into friendly catching up. I told Jackie about recent developments with Ryan, and with Naples and London. She told me about her recent scuba trip to New Zealand and her most recent love interest. By the time I headed back to San Diego that evening, I was smiling from ear to ear. It had been great to learn that Jackie had not betrayed my trust and I was delighted to have been able to spend the entire afternoon catching up.

  * * *

  As the summer dragged on, Ryan and I continued to reconnect. I planned a trip to see him in Vegas on one of my last few weekends before my trip to London. “If I arrive on Friday afternoon, do you think Chris will be in? I’ve not seen him since before Germany.”

  “Dunno. He’s a nut about that place, but he also keeps his vacation hours down to a minimum. Thinks he’s some kind of big shot now. I don’t think you realize the monster you created.” Ryan chuckled

  “Hah. Big shot? Well, hey, he is the general manager of a Huntington’s and faster than anyone else has ever made it to that post. So, I think I can forgive a little big shot—itis.” Truth was, I had been wondering about Ryan’s motorcycle and about all the guys for a while now. I’d not seen them at all since my return from Germany, and Ryan never mentioned them anymore. I’d even considered going to see him at the store or calling him from my offices in San Diego under a premise of corporate business, but I decided against it.

  “I dunno. If you see him, tell me how that goes.”

  “Do you not see him anymore, hun?”

  “Been a while, I guess.”

  “I’m surprised at that.”

  “Life. Schedules. Shit gets in the way. He used to invite me out to bars and clubs and VIP-this and reserved-section-that, and girls…all the time with the girls. We’re just different people now, I guess.”

  “Wow, honey. We’ve not really talked about them—none of them.”

  “What’s to talk about? Listen, I’ve gotta run. Mom’s calling on the other line. Probably
firming up dinner plans. Still going Saturday night, right?”

  “I can’t wait to see her.”

  I hung up the phone, excited about my upcoming weekend in Vegas and hopeful about seeing Chris, the ‘Huntington’s Big Shot.’

  Four days later, while walking through the front doors of the store, I was pleasantly greeted by a young lady arranging a display. “Hello, ma’am. Welcome to Huntington’s. Anything I can help you find?”

  “In fact, there is something. Your general manager, please. Mr. Jacobs. Is he around?”

  “I believe he might be. Is there anything that maybe customer service can help you with?”

  “No. I definitely need him.” Realizing that she was looking a little nervous at an apparent customer seeking the general manager, I took mercy on her. “We’re longtime friends. I’ve been out of town for a while, and I’d love to see how he is doing.”

  She immediately relaxed. “Right this way, ma’am. His office is just back here.”

  She guided me to Rasmussen’s old office and knocked timidly at the door. “Mr. Jacobs…there’s someone here to see you.”

  I heard rustling, and finally, the door came open. We stood awkwardly for brief seconds while he took time to register who I was. “Oh, my God! Jen Simmons. The Jennifer Simmons? Can it be that the prodigal daughter has returned? Jillian, do you know who this woman is?” The girl looked left and right, and then shrugged sadly. “This is Jennifer Simmons, the fastest rising retail clerk. Went from clerk to general manager in eighteen months, I think, and off to regional and then corporate within four years. Isn’t that right?”

  “Something like that, Chris. Now stop. The girl is intimidated enough.” Turning to the girl, I whispered, “I’m just Jen today, the lady who came to see Mr. Jacobs. And I thank you for the escort. I think there is a display that needs you more than we do.”

  She smiled graciously, looking relieved as she turned and fled.

  “Now, as for you, Chris Jacobs, I was the fastest rising store clerk until you came along. General store manager within a year is unheard of!” I hugged him. “Congratulations, hun. Are you gonna let me in or what?”

  He flung the door wide open and swept an arm out in front of him. “After you, m’dear.”

  The office appeared far more comfortable and lived in, now that Chris was occupying it. Rasmussen had been tidy, professional, and nearly industrial in his designs. Chris had sports team pennants hanging on the walls, photos from sporting trips he’d been on, a small putting green set up in one corner, and a comfortable leather couch across from his desk. “Wow, I love what you’ve done to the place. What happened to all the Huntington’s stuff that is supposed to be in a store manager’s office?”

  He made his way around to his side of his large mahogany desk, his pronounced limp tugging at the nostalgic part of me. “Supposed to be? Are you here to inspect me? If I knew that, I might not have let you in.” We laughed. He sat down in his leather executive chair while I found a seat on the fluffy leather couch. Looking around, it was quite a contrast between professional office and man cave. But somehow, Chris was pulling it off.

  “No, Chris, I’m telling you, I’m not here as corporate. And besides, I love this office set up—just wondering about it. I don’t think anyone else has ever done more than hang different pictures, or, in the case of Rasmussen, take down all the pictures completely.”

  He rolled his eyes. “Yeah, Rasmussen. What a character he was….” We chuckled.

  “Good at his job all the same. And you should be grateful for it because his success helped turbo boost your own.”

  “Sure, I guess so. He was pretty stiff and stodgy if you ask me. Corn cob up his butt. Besides, I heard they were looking to find me a store to manage anyway, even if Rasmussen hadn’t been picked up for Germany.”

  “Is that so? And where’d you hear that from?”

  “I know a girl,” he began, his face softening as he spoke, “she told me. We were getting serious and …” his eyebrows raised as his eyes found mine. He straightened in his seat and he cleared his throat, “and that’s all you’re getting outta me, corporate. I can’t reveal my sources.” He pointed a sharp index finger in my face.

  “Chris, Jesus, it’s just Jen. That’s it. I have no business here in the southwest region anymore anyway. I’m international development now.”

  “So I’d heard.” He looked at me seemingly for the first time, almost sizing me up. “How’s Naples coming?”

  “It’s gorgeous. I can’t wait for the grand opening. Should be October or latest of early November, so people have time to shop for the holidays.”

  “Will you be there for it?”

  “Most likely.”

  “Taking any up-and-coming pups with you?”

  “Such as…?”

  “Such as an old friend and someone who has potential to join you in the corporate ranks one day?”

  I smiled warmly at the thought of having brought him into the Huntington’s family and possibly mentoring him into corporate. “I don’t know, hun. And I won’t make you any promises.” I smirked at him appreciatively; “you definitely have an eye toward your future, eh?”

  “Of course. How else will I catch up to you?”

  I chuckled humbly, redirecting conversation, “Chris, seriously, how have you been?”

  He shrugged. “I’m fine. Never better.”

  “Ever gotten back on that bike of yours?”

  “Nope, sold it. Shortly after…I mean, just you know, after…” He hesitated awkwardly. “Shortly after you left for Germany.”

  I squinted at him. “After I left for Germany? Be serious, Chris.”

  “Oh, I’m serious.” He leaned back in his chair and swiveled back and forth looking at the ceiling. “Ryan can’t cook like you, and sitting on the sidelines alone without you or your cooking wasn’t worth it.” He stopped moving and looked at me, smiling broadly as he finished his sentence.

  “Do you guys do anything together anymore? I really have such great memories of times spent with you guys, almost like being with Ryan’s second family.”

  His eyes narrowed and his lips tightened into a thin line slightly turned down at the corners. We looked at each other silently for a few seconds before he broke eye contact and turned away, “Bah. Not family at all.” He grabbed a football off the bookcase behind him, throwing and catching it in a perfect spiral lightly tossed toward the ceiling. “Just guys who hung out to ride really, and maybe do other stuff. Lately, can’t get anybody together, even for a drink at a club…even when I get us the VIP section and a bottle.”

  “Maybe beers at someone’s house would be more comfortable?”

  “Enh. Maybe.” Toss, catch, toss, catch. “Doesn’t much matter anymore. No one’s really around much.”

  “Where’d everyone go?”

  “I dunno. Busy, I guess.” Toss. Catch. “Pat’s gone. Divorced, and it was messy. Had to move to Minnesota cuz she went back to stay with family, and he was chasing his kids. He’d never see them otherwise. Paul’s around, I guess, but his new girl’s kinda tight with the kitchen passes. Johnnie’s around, too.” He caught the football and sat up. “And then there’s Ryan….” He raised an eyebrow and pursed his lips. “He’s around…but never goes out anymore either.” The tension in the room was tangible but I couldn’t tell if it was anger or hurt that thickened the air between us.

  “It is sad to think of not going out there and watching you guys ride.”

  “You two back together?” He asked with an air of nonchalance.

  “We’re talking and seeing where things go. I’m going to spend time with him this weekend. Maybe I can arrange something - we can all get together for a ride at the track. We can meet at Apex—”

  “Told ya,” he interrupted, “don’t have my bike anymore.”
He leaned back again and resumed his personal game of catch.

  “Then come sit with me on the sidelines.”

  “Better to try to get them together at Randsburg in Cali. No one’s gonna go to Apex.”

  “Why not? You guys used to love that place. I’ve got some great memories from being out there. Remember my going away?”

  “Not everybody has good memories out there…” Chris trailed off, and I suddenly felt insensitive for bringing up the place where he’d hurt himself. “Anyway, let me know what the guys say. See how many of them are willing. Let me know if something comes together.”

  “I will, Chris. I will. And if I do, are you in?”

  “Let’s just start with you doing it first.”

  I left shortly thereafter, feeling like something was definitely off. This version of Chris bore some of the old Chris characteristics, but he had changed quite a bit in the year I was gone. I wasn’t sure that Ryan was right about him becoming a bit of a pompous ass; I felt something else darkening his usual childlike enthusiasm. No doubt I wasn’t the reason he stopped going to the track, but what was? I hoped to get the boys together again this weekend and sort out whatever happened to them.

  Chapter Twenty

  I met with Ryan at his apartment that afternoon, and we barbecued some burgers for lunch, sipped beer, and were playful. After dinner, we settled in on the couch and started a movie on DVD. Being there beside him was wonderful and warm and felt like old times. It reminded me of how things used to be, and it brought my questions back about the guys, why I’d not seen Ryan’s bike, and so on. “When’s the last time you rode your bike or got together with the guys?” I began as the movie slowed to a boring part.

  “I don’t,” he answered plainly. “Sold the bike after…” he trailed off.

  “What, hun? After what?”

  “After the group sort of stopped riding.” His voice was firm and tense.

  “Hmmm,” I paused the movie and sat up, “that’s it? Just that simple? I doubt that very much. What happened, babe?”