I cruise through town, making my way to the salon. It’s located in the center of town, right off the square. The Curl Up ‘n Dye salon, ran by a young woman named Lainey. She moved to town about a year ago and opened this place. No one knows much about her, she’s pretty quiet, keeps to herself. I’ve invited her out with me and the girls a few times, but she’s always declined. She gives good hair though and has built herself a successful business in the short time she’s been here.
I head inside once I find parking, the bell on the door chiming when I open it. Lainey is perched at the front desk, head bent, scribbling on some paper.
“Hey girlfriend,” she greets as I hang my stuff up and she motions for me to head on back. She rents booths out to other cosmetologists and lets them all set their own schedules. Looks like right now it’s just her working, which is fine by me. All the other stylists know my sordid love story, and I don’t feel like rehashing it all right now. We chat as she puts the color on my hair, purple this time. A few months back she talked me into wild colors, saying if anybody could pull it off it was me. We’ve done vibrant colors the last few months and I have to say, I love it. There is something freeing about expressing yourself through your hair.
The door chimes and Avery comes blowing in. Shit. She’s been texting me since last night, pumping me for information about why Dean is back in town. I answered the first three texts but then stopped, because just thinking about him being back makes me queasy.
She storms back to the station we are at and flicks me in the forehead.
“Ouch, Ave. What the hell?” I rub the spot where she flicked me, Lainey laughing. Avery hitches her purse up on her shoulder and props a hand on her hip.
“Yeah, Whit. What the hell? I’ve been texting you for twelve hours!” A sigh escapes me. She flops down in the salon chair next to us and I know I can’t avoid her any longer.
“I’m sorry. I’m still trying to wrap my head around the fact that he’s back.”
“Who’s back?” Lainey asks.
“Her boyfriend that left her behind ten years ago,” Avery announces. I narrow my eyes at her and she shrugs her shoulders. “She’s gonna find out eventually, Whitley. The whole town knows Dean is back.” I groan and cover my face with my hands.
“Why is this happenin’ to me?!” Why would he do this? Come back, buy a bar, and demand that I run it.
“Maybe he’s still in love with you,” Lainey says, and my heart rate accelerates at her comment. There is no way that after twelve years that man is still in love with me.
“If he was in love with me, he never would have left,” my heart cracks a little with that confession, something I’ve never said aloud to anyone in the last ten years other than my mother. How could he leave when he knew I was hurting so bad? He never asked me to come and he never told me he was leaving. Just one day he was here and the next he wasn’t.
Avery pats me on my knee. “Everyone grieves in their own way, honey.”
Grief is such a fickle bitch. It comes in waves, ebbing and flowing. One minute, I’m fine. Next, I’m choking back tears, wondering what my life would have been like if Everly were still here. Wondering if Dean ever thinks about her. About us.
“I know,” I sigh, “it’s just gonna take me some time to adjust to him being back in town.”
“What does Derrick think about all of it?” Lainey asks as she checks the foils in my hair.
“I’m not sure, honestly. He didn’t have a whole lot to say about it last night when we hung out. Just that he’d support me in whatever choice I make, staying at the bar or leaving.”
“You’re not really thinking about leaving, are you?” Avery asks and I turn the question over in my mind.
“‘Course not. I couldn’t, y'all know how much that bar means to me. How much Fred means to me. I’m just not sure I can share the same space as Dean.”
“Set some ground rules,” Lainey says, and I shoot her a questioning look. She goes on, “Let him know that you’re willing to make this work, but you’ll only work shifts when he isn’t there and he needs to let you do your job without being all in your space.” I consider what she’s saying. It could work.
“Can we turn the attention to Avery and Jaxson, please,” I’m over discussing the details of my messy life. Time to redirect the focus.
“There is nothing to talk about,” Avery says while inspecting her nails.
“Not true,” Lainey quips, “I heard his car was at your house until close to midnight last night.”
Avery groans. “Why is this town full of gossips’! Who told you?”
“Poppy,” she says, and I bust up. Poppy is the biggest gossip of all in town.
“He was helping Genevieve with her math homework and that is it.”
“Until midnight?” I question with a cheeky grin. She is ass over head in love with that fella, doesn’t matter that there’s roughly twelve years between the two of them.
“We were also going over some files for work. He has a new client that he’s working with and wanted my opinion.”
“Mmhmm,” Lainey hums and I giggle. Avery narrows her eyes at the both of us.
“Y’all are the worst.”
The timer dings, signaling that it’s time to rinse my hair. I can’t help but love the little group of friends I have here in this town.
***
One week has passed since Dean blew into town and I have been making a job out of avoiding him. But it’s Saturday night and I’m tending bar so that means I can’t run away if he shows up. I’m serving up some shots when the bar door opens and Derrick walks in with his partner, Jonah, walk in. The usually come in every Saturday after their shift and Derrick hangs out until closing, then we both go back to my apartment. They both saddle up to the bar and I grab them both a beer. I meander over to them and Derrick braces both forearms on the bar top and leans over the counter, pressing a kiss to my lips.
“Stay on your side of my bar, Jensen,” is rumbled from farther down the bar and I narrow my eyes at Dean. Derrick laughs and sits back down.
“Anderson. Heard you were back in town,” Derrick says, eyes on Dean, taking a drink of his beer.
“I’m sure you did,” Dean murmurs, his eyes on me. He’s always looked at me like I was the only girl in the room. It didn’t matter that all the other girls in his grade wanted to be with him, that he could have had someone older. More mature. He only ever wanted me, never gave them the time of the day. And right now, he’s still looking at me like I’m the only woman in the room.
His eyes blaze a trail on my skin, taking me in from head to toe. I did put more thought into my outfit and makeup tonight, knowing there was a possibility of Dean being here. I’ve got on a pair of booties with my dark skinny jeans tucked inside them. I’m also wearing a cute black tank top, criss cross pattern above my chest that draws attention to my cleavage which is on full display. I ditched my cardigan a while ago because I was warm, so my arms are totally exposed. My skin feels hot where Dean’s eyes have roamed, taking in my entire body. My hair is piled on top of my head, leaving my neck bare, and I can feel the blush creeping up my chest.
The sound of the bar has dulled to a low roar, muffled by the blood pumping through my ears. I didn’t really look at Dean when I saw him the other day, I was too upset and hurt but even I can’t deny that he looks good, better than he ever did. You can tell he works out, his bicep muscles hugged by the gray t-shirt he’s wearing. His hair is long and shaggy, falling across his forehead. His dark hair has always made his green eyes look brighter, and tonight is no exception. He has on dark jeans that hug him in all the right spots and black motorcycle boots on his feet.
“Order up!” The cook hollers and it bring me back to the moment. I tear my eyes away from Dean, grabbing the food and running it to the table for the server, needing to get away from him. Put some distance between the two of us. I fill drink orders and chat with Derrick and Jonah for a while, Dean behind the bar talking with other custom
ers. Avery shows up for her shift and I excuse myself, making my way to the bathroom and locking myself inside. Being this close to Dean is making me crazy. Making me question everything that’s happened in the last twelve years. There’s a light knock on the door.
“Just a minute,” I holler, washing my hands. There’s another knock just as I swing the door open and Dean is standing there. He pushes me back into the bathroom and kicks the door shut behind him, locking it.
“What the hell, Dean!” I snap, crossing my arms. His eyes drop to my chest and linger there before slowly coming back up to my face. A lazy grin spreads across his face.
“That’s what I’m thinking, Whitley. What the hell. Derrick Jensen, really?”
How dare he.
“You don’t get to ask questions about my personal life, Dean. It’s none of your business. You are the owner of this bar and nothing more than that, do you understand? Now, move.” I try to open the door, but he won’t move, back braced against it.
“I get to ask questions if it interferes with your job.”
“How dare you,” I seethe, poking my finger at his chest. “Don’t you ever question me and my work ethic, Dean Anderson. I have broken my back for this fuckin’ bar, workin’ open to close day after day. And I’ve done it because I love Fred and I owe it to him. He put me back together when I was broken, which you wouldn’t know a thing about because you weren’t here. I may owe it to Fred, but I don’t owe you a goddamn thing. Now, move!”
He spears his hands into his hair and huffs out a sharp breath but steps out of the way and I throw the door open, running smack into Derricks chest. His hands shoot out instinctively and he grips my arms, taking in the situation, his eyes bouncing back and forth between the two of us, eyebrows raised.
“Everything okay here?” He asks.
“Everything’s fine,” I say, pressing up on my toes and fusing my lips to his, putting a little extra effort in just to piss Dean off. I finally slow the kiss down and pull away.
“Excuse me,” I push around him and go back to the bar. Derrick is back on his stool a few minutes later and Dean, well, he is blessedly absent for the rest of my shift.
****
Sunday’s are usually saved for me and Derrick, as it’s the only day off that we have together, and this week is no exception. Most of the time we stay in and binge watch T.V. shows, eat junk food, and snuggle. Derrick decided this week he wanted us to go out, so here I am, all dolled up at four thirty in the afternoon and waiting on him to pick me up for our date. I have got on dark skinny jeans that make my ass look incredible, red booties, and an off the shoulder cream colored sweater. I took a little extra time on my hair today, curling and teasing it to high heaven. The bigger the hair, the closer to Jesus. At least, that’s what my mama always said.
I hear the gravel crunch in my driveway, signaling his arrival. I’m out on the porch and locking the door when Derrick meets me on the steps with a frown.
“Maybe next time actually let me come knock on the door when I pick you up,” he states, holding my hand on the walk to the car. I roll my eyes.
“Just ‘cause you’re taking me out on a date doesn’t mean I can’t open my own front door, D.” He opens my car door for me, and I climb in.
“I know, but my mama raised a gentleman and that means openin’ doors for you.” I concede to that, knowing his mama did raise him to be a gentleman and she is sweet as pie.
“I’m sorry. Do you want me to go back inside so you can open the door?” He grins and shakes his head, closing my car door and getting in the driver’s seat.
“So where are we going?” I ask as he navigates the streets outside of Monroeville.
“There’s a new place in Frisco I’ve been wanting to take you to, so I figured we’d start there. It’s supposed to have some of the best barbecue in the area.” I do love me some good barbecue. We make small talk on the drive over, him asking about the bar, me asking about his caseload. The drive to Frisco doesn’t take long, maybe twenty minutes. Once we find parking, we make the trek from the parking lot to the restaurant. The hostess shows us to our table and leaves with the promise that our waitress will be by soon.
“This place is adorable,” I comment, taking in the decor. It’s a super quirky barbecue joint. There are checkered table covers on all the tables, pig decor hanging on the walls, and a cowbell hanging beside the register.
“I should have taken you somewhere fancier, huh?” Derrick asks, gripping his neck and looking anxious. I reach out and touch his hand.
“When have you ever known me to be fancy? This is perfect, honey. Thank you.”
He laughs a little, because we both know I’m not fancy at all, and we make small talk until the waitress takes our orders. It’s strained and awkward, which is really the way things have been since Dean showed up in town. I’m trying to make this work because Derrick is an incredible man and any woman would be lucky to have him, but my heart is only saying one thing.
Dean. Dean. Dean.
Over and over again, our relationship has played out in my head since he blew back into town. We were so young, was our love really that big and beautiful? Would we have made it through the last twelve years and still be together? I doubt it, honestly. But I know my feelings were real. Heck, they’re still real. There’s an ache in my chest when I think about all the years he’s been gone and there are butterflies in my belly when I think about him being back home.
“You okay?” Derrick asks and it pulls me back into the moment, the sounds of the restaurant humming in the background, his brow furrowed as he looks at me.
“I’m fine, just tired. It’s been a long week tryin’ to get Dean up to speed on the bar plus still workin’ my shifts.”
“Ah.” He says and nothing more. I arch an eyebrow at him. “How is that going?”
“I’d rather be doin’ anything else.” He laughs a little at that comment. The rest of dinner is tense and strained and I start to get this pit in the bottom of my stomach that something is just off about everything.
Once the bill is paid, Derrick suggests we walk to the pier, which is fine by me. I love living in Alabama and being this close to the ocean. There is just something about the salty air that makes me feel warm and safe. We stroll hand in hand, taking in all the boardwalk performers and the nightlife. The pier isn’t very crowded, and we settle ourselves against the railing, overlooking the ocean, the sound of the waves crashing against the pier. Derrick lets out a heavy sigh.
“So, I think we should talk,” he begins, and I just know this is it.
“Okaaaay...” I drag out.
“Whitley Jean, you know I’m crazy about you. But the truth is, I’m not it for you.” Tears prick my eyes at his words. “You and I both know you gave your heart away a long time ago.”
I stay facing the water, the tears that were pricking my eyes now streaming down my face. I’m most upset at the fact that he’s right. I did give my heart away a long time ago, to a lanky boy underneath those football bleachers. That same boy took my heart with him when he left, and I’ve been waiting a long time to get it back. Derrick turns me towards him and pulls me into a hug, resting his chin on my head as I quietly cry.
“So, this is it, huh?” I ask quietly and he coughs out a laugh.
“Knew you’d break my heart the minute Dean crossed that county line.”
“I’m so sorry,” I whisper.
“Nothin’ to be sorry for, sweetheart. The heart wants what the heart wants.” I choke out a laugh. He tips my chin up with his fingers, placing a sweet kiss on my lips. “You call me if things go south, ya hear?” Smiling sadly, I nod my head and wrap my arms tight around him. We hang out on the pier for a while longer before he drives me home.
Dean
Easing my truck up to the curb, I put in park and hop out. Perfect timing, because Whitley is just stepping out of her car, too. Ford invited me to this backyard shindig, and I jumped at the invitation knowing Whitley would likely be here.
She’s bending over into the back seat and grabbing something, and I have to adjust myself in my jeans because her ass in those pants should be a fucking crime.
Standing with a six pack in her hands, she sees me and throws her head back to look up at the sky.
“Why me, God? Can’t you torture someone else?” She looks gorgeous in a fitted black t-shirt, the stark color of her purple hair even brighter against it. Ripped and tattered jeans cover her legs and she’s wearing wedge sandals that show off her red toes.
I chuckle a little and shut the car door for her, falling in step beside her.
“Where’s your boyfriend?” I ask because I’m genuinely curious. I haven’t seen them together at all in the last two weeks and he hasn’t been at the bar.
“Bite me, Anderson,” she says, walking faster to get away from me. I throw my head back and laugh, grabbing her by the elbow and stopping her movement and she turns on me.
“What, Dean? What could you possibly want?” Her eyes are glassy, like she’s trying not to cry. She looks away and then back at me, taking a deep breath.
“Hey, easy killer. What’s wrong?” I take a step towards her but she takes a step back, holding her hand up, silently asking me to stay put.
“We broke up, okay?! Is that what you wanted to hear? He dumped me.” Her admission shocks the shit out of me. No wonder I haven’t seen them together.
“Shit. I’m sorry, Whitley. I mean,” I grip the back of my neck, “I can’t say that I’m sad about it, but I really am sorry.” That clearly wasn’t the right thing to say because she punches me in the stomach and storms off. I double over, clutching it.
“You’re such an asshole,” Whitley shouts as we make our way into the backyard. I throw my head back and laugh.
“You used to love this asshole, baby,” I direct that remark to her back as she storms away from me and over to the gaggle of women huddled around the firepit. Snagging a beer from the cooler, I head towards the grill where Ford is standing, shaking his head at me and Whit’s face off.
Come Back for You: Boys of Alabama Page 2
