I pull out my phone and text in hyperspeed.
Me
I’ve changed my mind. You are definitely not the best friend a girl could ask for.
Cam:
It can’t be that bad.
Me:
It is that bad! Like pouring buckets of hot-molten-lava-on-my-skin kind of bad.
Cam:
10 more minutes.
Me:
Cameron Joseph Lee. If you do not get over here right now, I’ll call Cassie and tell her that you were the one who told your parents about her secret boyfriend in high school.
Cam:
You wouldn’t dare.
Cam’s baby sister was grounded for three months and missed her junior prom because he ratted her out. She may be twenty-four now, but she’d still kill him.
Me:
Try me.
Cam:
Fine. Leaving now.
And for the first time all night, I feel a little bit of relief.
seven
It turns out that the internet is a fabulous way to waste time. In merely two days, I’ve planned my dream vacation, which totals close to a year’s wages, played every solitaire game possible including the really boring ones, and watched a dozen old episodes of Dog Whisperer on YouTube.
Maybe taking the summer off from life wasn’t the best idea I’ve ever had. If I don’t find something to do, and soon, I’m going to officially die of boredom.
The options, few that they are, filter through my mind. Cameron’s dad offered me a data-entry position at his company once. Knowing him, the offer would still be open. I picture myself getting dressed up, chatting mindlessly with co-workers twenty years my senior, and sitting in front of a computer all day, then immediately scratch that one off the list of possibilities.
Which pretty much leaves me with Laurette. She’s called twice and offered me my old job back. I suppose I could say yes. Go back to what I know and do well and forget that I ever had plans to be more. I close my eyes and groan at the thought. It wasn’t that I hated it at Pampered Pups, I didn’t all the time, but it was never meant to be forever. And returning now feels like an enormous step backwards.
Piper hops up onto Zoe’s stiff leather couch, then turns and turns hoping to find a comfortable spot. Eventually, she learns the sad truth that things are not always what they appear and hops off, disappointed.
“Yep, I know. They look comfortable, but they aren’t.” I readjust my position, trying to keep my right leg from going numb. “Don’t worry, I understand if comfort trumps companionship.”
Piper trots to her doggie bed in the corner and settles with a tiny chew toy. She, not unlike myself, is still trying to find her place in the new apartment. Zoe tolerates us both, but I can’t say there’s been any love connection on either side.
I return to my endless clicking, my lids getting heavier and heavier.
“Zoe, let’s go!”
I jolt awake the minute Bryson comes barreling through the front door, obviously on a mission to find his baby sister.
“Come on. I’m already late. That idiot mechanic made me wait forty-five minutes just to tell me the stupid part wouldn’t be in till Friday.”
Piper, the vicious thing she is, pathetically growls from her corner but makes no move to defend her territory.
Bryson pauses, stares at my little dog, who’s wearing her adorable pink tag, and then finally turns to see me on the couch.
I wave, unsure which one of us is more surprised to see the other.
“Oh.” His brows pull together in a scowl. “I’m sorry. I should have knocked.”
“It’s fine. You belong here more than I do.”
“All the same, I’ll keep my distance, at least for the next couple of months.” Any question about how we left things is fully answered with that one statement. He and I may never have been besties, but we’ve also never had such immense discomfort between us either. He’s still upset from the other day, and I can’t really blame him. I want to apologize, need to apologize, yet doing so with a guy like Bryson is new territory for me and I don’t quite know how to begin.
“Zoe’s not here,” I say instead.
“Great.” He pulls his phone from his back pocket and dials while walking toward the kitchen. “Where are you? You said one o’clock. It’s one-ten.” His shoulders tense as he turns his back to me. “What do you mean you can’t get away. I just talked to you thirty minutes ago.” Another long, furious pause. “Yeah, I know, which is why I had the guy drop me off here. If you couldn’t do it, you should have just said so. I promised Charlie I’d be there before two, and now I’m stranded. . . . No, I can’t just get an Uber. He lives twenty minutes outside of town!” He shoves his free hand through his hair. “Well, that’s just lovely. Thanks. Nice to know I can always count on you.” He presses his phone hard enough to know his last sentence was dripping with frustration and sarcasm.
I watch silently as he grips the counter, takes two deep breaths, and then shoves off. The refrigerator door gets his next dose of annoyance. He tugs it open, pulls out an armload of Zoe’s fancy organic bergamot juice drinks, and slams the door shut.
I can tell what he’s about to do even before he turns the first bottle upside down over the sink. “Those are fifteen dollars a bottle.”
He smiles sardonically at me from across the bar countertop. “I know.”
I carefully set my laptop down next to me and unfold my legs. “Well, considering I’ll probably get blamed for drinking those, could you maybe stop at just one?” I walk to the other side of the bar and slide between the two stools. “Or leave her a note exonerating me?”
His eyes narrow, more laced in humor, though, than bitterness. “I don’t know. Sounds like two birds, one stone.”
Yep. He’s still mad at me.
“Or you could let me give you the ride you obviously need, and we can call it even?” I bite the corner of my lip and raise my brows, hopeful an apology will be that simple. With Cam, it usually is, but Bryson is a much more complicated person. At least to me.
He turns the bottle upright and puts the cap back on, even though it’s empty. “Sure you want to do that? My evilness may just rub off on you.”
“I never said you were evil.”
“No, that’s right, what you said was far less insulting. What was I again? Oh yeah, a self-serving narcissist who drops people the minute they’re no longer useful.”
Ouch. Okay, I was pretty rough on him the other day.
“You’re right. I was out of line. I’m sorry.”
He crosses his arms and studies me. “Sorry because you didn’t mean it?”
I could lie, but that’s not really my style. “Sorry because I was cruel with how I said it, and you’re right, I didn’t give you an opportunity to give your perspective.”
“No, you did not.” He glances at his phone to check the time. “But lucky for you, I’m in a bind, so you have a twenty-minute drive to apologize.”
“So now you’re doing me a favor?”
“Groveling is acceptable, too.” He grins, and despite the fact that it’s Bryson and I know I should be wary, I can’t help but grin back. He’s devilishly charming when he tries to be, which isn’t very often. “Are you driving or am I?”
Since I have no idea where I’m going, I grab my keys from the hook by the door and toss them to him. “Consider this my apology. And for the record, I don’t grovel.”
If I didn’t feel completely sure that Bryson was harmless and not a deranged serial killer, I’d be starting to worry. We’ve been in the truck twelve minutes and are now halfway between this-is-where-you-bury-the-body and yes-there-are-places-in-America-with-no-cellphone-service.
“Wishing you had asked more questions?”
“Something like that.” I create a sunshade with my hand and try to find any traces of human existence in the acres and acres of farmland. “Where are we going anyway?”
“A little community called Griffith. I have
a friend who lives out here, and he’s had a rough go of it lately. He’s got a big decision to make, and I didn’t want him to have to do it alone.” His answer surprises me, and he must sense as much because his jaw ripples with tension. “Wow, you really do think I’m a horrible person.”
“I don’t think you’re horrible. Your explanation just took me off guard for a second.”
“Which part? That I actually have a friend, or that I’m going to help him?”
I stare down at my fingers because I don’t know what else to say. In some ways, yes, I’ve always seen Bryson as the black sheep in our little group. If someone was insensitive or hurtful, it was him. If someone got in trouble, it was him. If someone was the first to take a risk or rebel, it was him. Always.
“Listen, it’s obvious that you have some pent-up resentment over Alison and Mason, so let’s just get it all out in the open now.” He glances at me and then back to the road. “What do you want to know?”
Once again, I’m taken aback—not by his bluntness, that’s common with him. More by his openness. Bryson’s the kind of guy you hang out with for twenty years without actually ever knowing him.
“Okay . . .” I pause, taking the time to compose a reasoned answer free of yesterday’s accusation. “Alison was in love with you. I knew that. Everyone knew that, and I know deep down you knew it, too.”
“I did.”
“Then why date her? Why risk your friendship that way?”
“Because I was selfish.” He studies the road, his hands squeezing and twisting the steering wheel. “We had just gotten the final dates for the tour, had gigs lined up for months. It was a rush, the biggest thing I’d ever accomplished, and I didn’t want to do it alone.” He shifts uncomfortably in his seat, clearly hesitant to share the rest with me. But true to his offer, he continues, and I find my respect for him growing. “I knew within a few days that I’d made a mistake, but I thought maybe if I just tried harder, it could work. But then . . .” He trails off like he can’t bring himself to say everything he was feeling during that time. “I wanted to love her the way she loved me. I just didn’t. And I knew the longer I pretended, the worse it would be, so I ended things. And now she hates me, and so do you, I guess, but I still know I made the right call.”
He waits for my response like he needs me to exonerate him or something. And maybe on the Alison thing I can do that, but I’m not sure I’ll ever fully trust him. At least not the hardened version he’s become.
“I don’t hate you, Bryson. I just don’t like seeing the people I care about get hurt.”
“I don’t like seeing them get hurt either.” He stares at me, his eyes restless. “If you’re wondering if I regret it, the answer is yes.”
And really, what else can I ask for? He made a mistake and he’s owning it.
“Do you regret firing Mason?”
Bryson pulls in a deep, slow breath, and I search for the same remorse he had with Alison, but it isn’t there. “No, I don’t. He wasn’t good enough.”
“But he started the band with you.”
“No. I started the band. Mason was simply the first addition.”
“And that doesn’t deserve some measure of loyalty?”
“He got loyalty,” he returns sharply, his voice turning indignant. “For five years I let him play, despite being completely stagnant.”
“You could have warned him.”
“Trust me, I did. Multiple times.” His jaw twitches. “When Black Carousel came into being, we were equally average. But I killed myself to get better, worked two jobs to pay for lessons, sunk every extra penny I had into better equipment, and Mason, he just stayed the same. I told him year after year that he had to commit all the way, but either he didn’t care enough or he just didn’t have the talent. Personally, I think it was a little of both. And I wasn’t going to sit back and let his inadequacy destroy my future, especially when Cameron was ripe and ready to take his place.”
The cab falls into an uncomfortable silence, neither of us speaking; there’s just the sound of cool air pumping from the air-conditioning vents and the rumble of my old V8 engine.
“Mason’s leaving was inevitable,” he finally says with complete surety. “He wasn’t good enough. And like it or not, you know it’s true.”
As much as I want to argue, I can’t because Bryson’s right. I’d witnessed the difference myself. Cameron had begged me to come out and watch his first performance, so I pulled a hundred dollars out of my precious savings, drove two hours to a popular college bar in Waco, and watched Cameron step onstage for the first time as an official Black Carousel band member. They killed it that night. It wasn’t just a great performance; they’d blown the roof off.
“Thanks for explaining. You didn’t have to, but I’m glad you did.”
“So we’re good?”
“Not quite,” I say with an air of jest so he knows I’m kidding. “I have more questions.”
“That wasn’t enough?” He groans. “What is it with women and their need to make men suffer?”
“How am I making you suffer?”
“I’m trapped in this truck, sharing feelings and regrets. You may as well be pulling out my fingernails.”
I can’t help but chuckle. “It’s the last one, I promise.”
“Fine. Let’s get it over with.”
“Okay.” I rub my hands together just to make him nervous. “Why did you go out of your way to help me? I know convincing Zoe couldn’t have been easy.”
He snorts like I have no idea exactly how hard. “I helped you, Darcy, because contrary to what others in this truck may believe, I do consider us friends.”
“We are friends.” And I mean it, probably more than I have since we were kids. “And thank you. The dog tag was a really thoughtful gesture.”
“You’re welcome.” His expression softens when he glances from the road to me again. “I wanted you to feel at home, even if it is just temporary.”
“Well, I do. Sort of. Zoe’s a bit of a puzzle, but she’s not there much so it’s kind of like living alone.”
“Better than an apartment with three guys and a mattress?”
I laugh at the absurdity that I even considered moving in with Cam as an option. “Yes, much better.”
“Good.” Bryson slows, and I spot the first house I’ve seen for miles.
“Is this it?”
“Yep.”
“Wow, it’s . . . beautiful.” The words come out in a loud whisper as we ease down the drive flanked by small oak trees on each side like a tunnel welcoming us home. “What a change from all the flat farmland.”
“Yeah. It’s a gem for sure. There’s over sixty cedar trees on this property and two large tanks.”
“Tanks?”
Bryson smirks at my ignorance. “You’d probably call them ponds. Tank is terminology we use for a livestock watering hole.”
“Oh, okay.”
The trees clear, offering a full view of all the buildings on the property. The main house, though quaint, is a beautiful one-story brick structure with the Texas star etched into the porch overhang.
Bryson follows the road to the right and parks between the detached garage and a massive tractor parked on the side. He stares out the windshield, his eyes clouded in thought. “You should have seen this place a couple years ago before Charlie’s wife got sick. Sue Ann was a master gardener, and there would always be some kind of seasonal flower to welcome you in.”
I don’t miss the use of the word was or the sadness in Bryson’s voice.
He cuts the engine and twists in his seat to face me. “Not to sound inhospitable, but you should probably stay in the truck or hang outside. It’s been a pretty terrible year for Charlie, and he’s not the best version of himself right now.”
“I’ll hang outside. It will be a nice change from my pity cocoon.” I hear a faint sound of barking in the distance. “Does he have dogs?”
“Five of them. Each worse than the other.” Br
yson rubs his neck as if just asking about them brings a new measure of stress. “When Sue Ann adopted them, she thought she was heading toward remission.”
“What happened?”
“She spent a year on chemo, and the tumors shrank miraculously to the point that her doctors felt they could get the rest through surgery. She never woke up.” His voice catches. “That was three months ago. Since then, Charlie’s barely been able to care for himself, let alone five unruly animals.”
Hearing his grief lace through every word squeezes the air from my chest. “I’m so sorry, Bryson, I can’t imagine.”
“That’s life,” he says curtly. “Something always pops up to punch you in the face. I just hate that I was on tour when it happened. Charlie shouldn’t have been alone. Not after everything . . .” The ache of what he doesn’t say swells in my throat, but I remain silent as he reaches for the door. “Ready?”
It’s more than just a question. It’s the endcap on his sharing of feelings. I shouldn’t feel so disappointed. Bryson’s given me more today than he ever has before. If anything, I should be grateful we finally aired our grievances. Now we can go back to what we’ve always been.
I grip the door handle and pull. “Yeah. I’m ready.”
eight
As soon as we exit the truck, the barking turns from faint to obnoxiously loud. The noise seems to be coming from two sources, each located around back and out of my line of sight. Based on tone and depth, I’m guessing they’re both large breeds, and one is not happy at all to hear strangers descending.
“Here.” Bryson tosses me a small bottle of bug spray. “I only got the tractor to about half the property last week, so some spots are still pretty high.”
He mows too?
I carefully spray my shins and tennis shoes. “How did you and Charlie meet?”
“At Grace Community, actually. After things blew up with my stepdad, Mr. Lee thought it would be a good idea for me to talk to someone. It wasn’t really my thing, but I was crashing at his house, so I couldn’t exactly say no.”
I chuckle because Cameron’s dad is a lot like him. Persistent. “You probably wouldn’t have been able to say no even if you weren’t crashing there.”
Love and the Silver Lining Page 6
