Love and the Silver Lining

by Tammy L. Gray

  nineteen

  When my obligatory two songs are over, I head out the backstage door and realize a little too late that it’s the wrong exit. Instead of the beefy security guard and a roomful of half-inebriated people, there’s a parking lot with ten reserved signs and a gate.

  “Darcy?”

  I look up just as Bryson closes the back of Jay’s van. “Bryson . . . hey.”

  “What are you doing out here?”

  “I think I may have underestimated the power of lemons.” I walk toward him, feeling a sway in my step that hasn’t been there before. “How’d you end up with loading duty tonight?”

  “I volunteered.”

  “Why?” Cam hates loading and unloading the equipment. In fact, sometimes I wonder if part of his desire to make it big comes from the idea that he’ll have roadies to do all the heavy lifting for him.

  “Because I’m tired and ready to go home. If I wait for them, I’ll be here all night.”

  “Yeah, makes sense.” I nod, but the act seems to teeter my already questionable equilibrium.

  “Whoa.” He cups my arm, keeping me steady. “Okay, Cinderella, the clock has definitely hit midnight for you.”

  “I know. I’m trying to get home,” I slur, mashing my screen again. “But I can’t get the stupid app to come up.”

  Bryson takes the phone from my hand. “Come on, you lush. I’ll drive you.” He guides me to the passenger side of his truck and helps me get inside.

  I lean my head back against the headrest and try to close my eyes. Bad decision. The truck goes into a spinning carnival ride until I force my lids open again.

  Bryson slams his door shut and turns to look at me with both amusement and a little pity in his eyes. “Where’s Cameron?”

  “He’s watching Firemight or whatever their name is.”

  “And he just let you leave by yourself?”

  “Nah. He offered to walk me out, but I assured him I was good.” My head feels heavy and flops to the side. “He didn’t know about the lemon drops. Though I don’t think he’d be quite as rude about it as you were.” I attempt to poke his arm but miss twice.

  “I wouldn’t be so sure of that.”

  I open my mouth to argue when different words fall out. “You’ve been avoiding me. Why?”

  He sighs and slides his key into the ignition. “Let’s just call it self-preservation and leave it at that.” His answer doesn’t make sense to me, but that could also be because my head is squishy.

  I close my eyes again, thankful there’s less spinning now. “Well . . . I missed seeing you. Just so you know.”

  Bryson’s truck rumbles to a start, and it feels like only seconds pass before I hear him ordering cheeseburgers from a drive-thru.

  I sit up in the seat and look around at my surroundings. We’re in Midlothian. Only a few miles from Zoe’s apartment.

  “Did I fall asleep?”

  “Yep, and you sleep like the dead. I had to check your pulse twice.” Bryson eases the truck forward and pays the attendant.

  The smell of grease and French fries drifts through the truck window, and my stomach immediately growls in response. “You are now my favorite person in the world. That smells like heaven.”

  He snickers at me and reaches for the large paper bag the cashier is holding. “That’s because you’re drunk.”

  “I am not.”

  “Oh yes, you most definitely are. But this will help.” He hands me the greasy treasure, and I immediately go for the nearest bag of fries.

  “Oh my goodness. These taste soooo good.” I shove another handful into my mouth. “Why have I never eaten here before?”

  Bryson rolls up his window and puts the truck in drive. He’s laughing at me, and I should be offended but I’m not. In fact, I feel like giggling myself.

  “That AT&T guy tried to get me to go to his apartment,” I say, unfolding the paper surrounding the most beautiful cheeseburger I’ve ever seen.

  “I’m sure he did.”

  I ingest two delicious bites and wipe my mouth. “It’s weird. I’ve never had a guy come on that strong before.”

  “Sure you have.”

  “No, really.” I shake my head, grateful the worst of the dizziness is gone. “I think it’s the sundress. Tony said I looked tiny and feminine.” Again the giggles come. “Imagine what he’d think if he saw the real me.”

  Bryson glances at me, then back to the road. “He’d think the same thing we all do. That you’re just as gorgeous without all the frills as you are with them.”

  “Ah, that’s sweet.” I take another bite of my cheeseburger and wonder why his compliment makes me want to start crying.

  “If I were a betting man, I’d say the only reason men aren’t beating down your door is the fact that Cam stays permanently attached to your side. The two of you are pretty oblivious to the rest of the world.”

  “Please, Cam could get a master’s degree in flirting. I swear he’s had more girlfriends than I’ve had haircuts.”

  Bryson snorts out a laugh like I’ve said the most ridiculous thing tonight. “Name one that wasn’t an exercise in passing time.”

  “I can name five.”

  He turns and raises his brows, waiting for me to continue.

  “Okay, there’s Cindy.”

  “Nope. She crushed on him for five months, so he gave her a few pity dates just to get her off his back.”

  “Fine. Lydia.” I wait, knowing he won’t have a rebuttal for that one. Lydia is Cameron’s longest relationship to date.

  “Boredom. She was there and available. Cam never had any real feelings for her.”

  “You’re changing the rules. I said girlfriends, not soulmates.”

  “And I said ones who weren’t smoke screens.” Bryson pulls the truck in front of our apartment and shoves the gear into park. “Try again.”

  I narrow my eyes at him, even though he’s smirking. “Alright. January.”

  That wipes the grin right off his face. “Doesn’t count.”

  “How so?”

  “Because January was smokin’ hot, and Cameron was blinded by it.”

  “You’re just saying that because you hated her.”

  “I didn’t hate her. I just didn’t trust her. When you grow up in a family like mine, you get very good at spotting frauds.”

  “All the same, Cam’s feelings for her—or at least the ‘her’ he thought she was—were very real. And I feel certain that if she hadn’t lied, the two of them would still be together.” I crumple the bag in my hand, my stomach now full and my smile nice and smug. “Now admit it. I win.”

  But Bryson doesn’t continue our banter the way I expect him to. Instead, his expression turns hard, a deep line creasing his brow. “And that never bothered you? Seeing them together?”

  My skin suddenly feels itchy. “No. Cam was happy. That’s all that matters.”

  He shakes his head like I’m missing the point and shoves open his car door. “Let’s get you inside.”

  The giddiness I felt for the last ten minutes falls to a pit in my stomach. I ease from the car, exhaustion and sadness wrapping me up like a blanket. Still, I trudge up the stairs and try not to feel completely humiliated by the fact Bryson has to help keep me steady.

  He unlocks the door, and immediately Piper leaps at our feet, barking madly. I lean down and pick her up. My throat burns as I nuzzle her soft fur. At least she is too loyal to know what a colossal screw-up I am right now.

  “I’ll take her out for you,” he offers.

  I reluctantly hand her over and use the wall to stabilize my walk into the bedroom. Bryson was right. Slamming back martinis all night has accomplished nothing. I’m still here, stuck in this apartment, my professional life a complete disaster. My parents are still divorced, and my mom is probably sleeping next to Michael right now.

  The bed whines when I drop down onto the mattress, my shoulders slumped, my arms hanging lifeless between my legs. And then the tears come. One at a
time, rolling down my cheeks and onto the floor.

  I feel Bryson settle next to me but can’t seem to look at him. “I didn’t set out to drink this much.”

  “No one ever does.”

  “I just thought if I tried something new and forbidden, then I wouldn’t feel so cheated.”

  “How’d that work out for you?” I know he’s trying to lighten the mood, but I can’t seem to pull myself from the sorrow.

  “I’ve spent my whole existence in this bubble with everything mapped out in perfect order. My parents sheltered me too much, and now that it’s all gone, I feel like the ground won’t stop moving.”

  Bryson’s palm touches my back, moves up toward my shoulders, and squeezes. “They didn’t shelter you; they shielded you, and that’s not a bad thing. Boundaries are there for a reason. When I have kids, I’ll do the same exact thing.”

  I chuckle through my sobs. “I thought you were never getting married.”

  “I’m being hypothetical.” He studies my tear-soaked face, and compassion fills his normally stormy eyes. “You’ll find your way through this.” His voice shifts, its softness and layers of empathy reminding me that he isn’t saying anything he hasn’t already experienced himself.

  “Thank you.” My hand slides across the comforter and touches his. He startles at the contact but doesn’t move. “For listening. And for taking care of me.” I inch closer, my fingers trailing over his knuckles to the inside of his wrist.

  “Darcy.” His voice is full of a warning I don’t want to hear right now. My hand trails up his forearm, the muscles underneath tensing with each lingering stroke.

  I lift my gaze from his intoxicating skin and stare into the same eyes that captivated me when onstage. They blaze, a molten steel, and his gaze holds me like fire. My fingers continue their forbidden exploration. They’re at his bicep now, my nails pushing against the hem of his tight sleeve. I scoot closer, the heat of his body surrounding me, filling this room, filling my head. He swallows and his breath comes out in quick hot waves. I glide my other hand closer until it lands lightly on his thigh.

  If Bryson was tense before, he’s now a solid rock of frustrated energy. He pulls his arm away first, then stands. “Time for bed.”

  “I don’t want to go to bed.” I want to go back to doing exactly what I was just doing.

  “Maybe not. But I’m not interested in being another one of your experiments tonight.”

  Bitterness rises in my throat but there’s no fighting the edge in his voice or the violent way he tosses aside the multiple shams that sit against the headboard. He folds back the sheets and waits, expectantly. I begrudgingly crawl over, kicking off my shoes in the process. He tucks me inside, sundress and all, and then walks out of my room without a word.

  A hive of bees swarm in my chest and I nearly throw off the covers to follow him when he suddenly appears back in the doorway with a glass of water and a bottle of aspirin in his hands.

  “Drink lots of fluids when you wake up and take two of these.” He kneels so our faces are level, and slowly his tight, stubborn mouth relaxes. “Don’t stay in this place too long, Darcy. You have so much more in you than this rebellion.”

  My insides jumble as though everything has been kicked and shaken. Strangely, he looks exactly how I feel. “Why did you do it?” I slide my hand through his, lace our fingers together. “Why did you make sure I lived here?”

  He pauses as if trying to figure it out himself. “You needed options.”

  “No. If it were just that, you wouldn’t have agreed to spend Thanksgiving with your family.”

  I can tell from his expression that he’s surprised I know the truth. His shoulders are square, and his jaw holds the edge of a man busted. He sighs. “I did it because I’m selfish.”

  My voice feels weak. “How is that selfish?”

  He detangles his hand and gently brushes a wisp of hair from my cheek. “The fact that you don’t know the answer to that is exactly why I have no business being here right now.” He stands, his body language suddenly cold and guarded. “Sweet dreams, Darcy. If we’re lucky, you won’t remember any of this in the morning.” He then reaches his hand under my lampshade, and the room goes dark.

  twenty

  I made it out to the farm this morning, though how, I don’t know. Throughout the entire drive, the sun scorched my eyes while my head pounded in a painful rhythm that mimicked the knocking of my aging truck engine. Twice, I had to fight the urge to pull my truck over to the side of the road and regurgitate the lemon drops that would undoubtedly taste worse coming up.

  Bryson said if I was lucky, I wouldn’t remember anything.

  Well, I’m not lucky. I remember every humiliating moment from the last twenty-four hours, including the way I practically ripped his shirt off.

  I grip the steering wheel, unable to move until the nausea subsides, and let my head rest against the warm leather. How did my life get so screwed up? I was going to be a missionary a month ago, and now I’m the girl who’s not only skipped church more than I’ve gone but can’t even find the words to pray. Or maybe I just don’t want to pray. Because even though the initial trauma has subsided and my miserable attempt at rebellion has failed, I still feel this gut-wrenching anger I can’t seem to get past. And worse, it all seems to be directed at the very entity I would normally go to for peace and comfort.

  Sweat beads on my neck until I’m forced to move. My old truck has decent enough air conditioning when it’s moving at a constant rate of speed, but not so much when it’s simply idling in a driveway.

  I push open the door and take my first shaky step onto the gravel. The sound is eerily quiet, and the nausea is immediately replaced by anxiety. Louie isn’t barking. A phenomenon that has never occurred since the first day I met him.

  Adrenaline takes over and I rush faster than I’ve moved all morning to the back of the house, only to find the dog in question is not only okay but standing in the middle of his kennel as if waiting for me.

  “Now, aren’t you full of surprises.” Or maybe even Louie can sense that I’m teetering close to the breaking point.

  I slide open the lock and take two careful steps inside, expecting at any second for him to scurry back to the corner and begin barking. He doesn’t. Instead, he comes closer.

  While Louie’s erratic behavior has improved some in the past couple of weeks, never before has he gotten this close to me. I glance at Bentley’s empty kennel on the left and wonder if his absence might be the very thing Louie needed to begin to trust.

  I take two careful steps forward, watching the skittish Great Dane for any signs of distress. Normally I wouldn’t let a dog I’m training set the tone, but I’m sensing Louie needs to be the one to take that first step in deciding if I’m really going to be his person or not.

  With my arms at my sides, palms out, I wait. “Go ahead. Check me out. I can tell you want to.”

  He takes one step forward, then slides back and barks twice.

  I don’t move. “It’s okay. Come on.”

  He tilts his head and watches me with those sad blue eyes. I can tell he wants to believe better times are coming; he’s just too jaded to know what to look forward to.

  “I understand, you know. My life hasn’t exactly gone the way I planned it either.” Though saying it out loud doesn’t make me feel any better. “But you and I, we’re overcomers. At least that’s what I keep telling myself.”

  As if he understands my words, he tries again, making it within a foot of me before jumping back and barking so erratically one would think I’d lashed out.

  “Now, how scary can I be? You outweigh me by at least thirty pounds,” I say as soothingly as I can and wiggle my fingers a little. “And in case you haven’t noticed, I’m not exactly in tip-top shape this morning.”

  My voice calms him, and this time he gets close enough that I feel his cold, wet nose on my palm. His ears perk up. I can tell he smells the dog treats I always bring with me.


  He sniffs with purpose now, first against my hand, then his snout presses into my pocket. A bark comes, sudden and loud, and it’s so unexpected I jump, which of course sends him flying back to the corner.

  “I’m sorry. I’m sorry. You scared me.” I reach into my pocket and pull one of the treats free. Kneeling on one knee, I extend my hand to him. To take the meaty morsel, he’ll have to come closer, will have to believe I’m safe enough to touch my fingers again.

  He does the inching forward, jumping back thing two more times before he’s close enough to take the peace offering. His large wet nose brushes against my knuckle, and then his tongue gently swipes the treat from my fingers. I don’t make him sit, don’t give him any commands at all. This isn’t about obedience; it’s about trust. Trusting me to provide for him, trusting me not to harm him, trusting me inside his broken heart.

  “That’s a good boy, Louie.”

  When he’s done swallowing, he comes back to my hand, sniffs my palm for more, and this time I’m ready when he barks at me.

  “Sorry, that one was a freebie, but barking demands is not how we are going to communicate.” I stand and reach into my pocket. Louie dances in front of me in a mix of fear and excitement. He barks again, this time with an agitated tone. “Oh, I know you want this treat, but you’re not going to get it that way. I need you to sit.”

  He stares at me, obviously confused. He doesn’t know the command, and unfortunately he won’t let me close enough to show him, but I have a feeling the big guy is smart enough to figure it out.

  “Can you sit?” I move closer and raise the treat up.

  His head naturally follows, and the momentum causes his backside to dip. Not all the way to the ground but close enough.

  “Very good.” I give him the treat and feel the scrape of his teeth on my skin. We’ll have to work on that, too.

  He watches curiously as I refresh his food and water. I wonder if he can see my renewed strength or if he even understands how much this one victory has nourished my hurting soul.