Love and the Silver Lining

by Tammy L. Gray

  But I tried that once, and his stiff rejection made it clear he didn’t want my comfort or pity, at least not in that way. I think of the foosball game and how cathartic it was to detach from the sorrow, even if just for a few minutes. Maybe that’s exactly what he needs right now.

  “You know what I liked to do as a kid?” I step backward until I’m out of the dirt and on the grassy area. I find a spot somewhat free of pokey weeds and plop down like a toddler. “On summer days, I’d pick a comfy spot, spread out my arms, and use the clouds to tell a story.” Slowly I lie back, ignoring the sharpness underneath me or the way my ponytail snags on the tiny plants. “See, there’s a knight holding his sword high above his head.”

  I hear the crunch of Bryson’s steps and then feel the heat of his body as he lies next to mine. I resist turning to look at him, too afraid of what the closeness might do to my already elevated nerves.

  I point to the spot in the sky where the pink clouds form a blob with a long streak. “Do you see it?”

  He chuckles. “Not even a little.”

  “What? It’s right there.” I point again, and this time he takes my hand and laces our fingers together. It feels important, like our worlds are uniting in this moment. I ignore the surge of adrenaline and continue. “And look, there is his castle.” He pulls until I’m forced on my side, facing him. “You don’t like this game?” I ask, my voice shaky.

  “I didn’t bring you out here so we could pretend to be kids again.” He leans up on his elbow, his other hand still entangled in mine. “I brought you out here because I thought you wanted what I do . . . for us to finally be honest with each other.”

  “Okay . . .” I search his eyes, my voice as unsteady as my heart suddenly feels. “You go first.”

  “I find your confidence staggering.” He releases my fingers, but only to reach out and pick two stickers out of my hair. “The way you go through life is so genuine. From your effortless ponytails to your casual clothes to the crazy things you do without a thought to who’s watching. It’s why last night bothered me so much. It was the first time you didn’t feel like you.” His hand falls slowly and lands on the soft skin inside my wrist. “I spent my entire life suffocating under the image my mom and stepdad had for our family. It didn’t matter what was true, only what people saw.” His touch continues down to my palm. “But with you, I never have to wonder what’s real and what’s not.”

  He pauses, and I know it’s my turn to reciprocate, to give him back the honesty he just gave me.

  “I truly admire the man you’ve become.”

  His brow creases. “You do?”

  “Yeah. You’ve overcome so much. Even your story tonight. It wasn’t laced with grief like you’re still living in it.” I search his eyes and know he’s done the impossible. “It didn’t make sense before, but I see it now. Your willingness to go to Thanksgiving, your song, even your advice to me the other day. You’ve forgiven them.”

  “Well, it’s more a work in progress.”

  “I understand. Every time I think of my dad or pull up his contact on my phone or ignore his weekly attempts at reconciliation, all I feel is this gut-piercing rage that refuses to go away.” He opens his mouth, but I quickly beat him to it. “Nope. I don’t want to talk about him. Not right now.” I inch closer. “I just wanted you to know that I recognize the battle you’ve faced, and even more, how you’re winning.”

  His eyes darken the way they always seem to when emotion hits him. “Sue Ann’s death was the turning point. That’s when everything spun upside down, and all the stuff that seemed so important at the time became insignificant. Suddenly, relationships mattered, and the people I’d all but let go of became a pressing thorn of regret in my side.”

  I nod in understanding. “Grief can certainly make you question everything.”

  “And sometimes it’s exactly what you need to finally go after what you’ve always wanted.”

  I think of the band and how hard Bryson worked to get Cameron to join. “Black Carousel,” I say, disappointed for some reason.

  “No, Darcy. For the first time in years, I couldn’t care less about what happens to the band.” His fingers blaze a trail up my arm, his eyes never leaving mine. “But I care a great deal about what happens to you.” There’s a pause as if he’s deciding how honest he wants to be. “When you told me you were moving in with Cam, it made me so nauseous, I thought I might lose it, right there on the swing next to you. I tracked Zoe down that night and refused to leave until she said yes. I wasn’t kidding when I said I was selfish, Darcy. I didn’t want you living with another man. Even one you claim is only a friend.”

  My heart slams against my chest, the air between us crackling as if lightning were about to strike us both for daring to say these things out loud. “In the spirit of honesty . . . I was jealous last night when that girl came up to you, and then again when I thought about you bringing groupies backstage.”

  He grins, slow and sexy. “You have no reason to ever feel jealous.”

  I lick my lips since they’ve suddenly gone completely dry. “Why’s that?”

  His hand moves across my shoulder and cradles my head, his fingers burying deep into my mess of a ponytail. “Because . . . when I was nine years old, I met the most beautiful girl I’d ever seen in my life.” He closes the last of the space between us, his breath a whisper against my cheek. “And twenty years later, I’m still completely mesmerized by her.”

  His touch is gentle at first, a soft brush of lips against mine. The type of kiss you give when unsure if the other person wants the same thing.

  I don’t let him wonder for long, responding with my own pressure, deeper and more demanding. Sparks sizzle in the air, and my pulse races as each inch between us becomes an inferno of emotion and desire.

  He eases his body over mine, slow and gentle, his hand and forearm taking the full brunt of the ground. I knot my fingers in his hair, pull him closer until I’m trapped beneath his weight, my skin so charged with want that I finally understand why every romantic kiss in a movie comes with music and fireworks.

  The kiss slows, Bryson taking us back to the original pace. His long, artistic fingers caress my temple as the space between us grows and grows until he hovers over me, waiting for a response.

  My breath is suddenly trapped in my chest. What do you say after kissing a guy you’ve known for twenty years? That was great, thank you?

  He studies me, his eyes traveling over every inch of my face, his gaze apprehensive.

  I wiggle free until I can sit up, my throat closing around my sudden uncertainty.

  Bryson notices the retreat, his mouth growing tighter as I put more space between us. “Are you okay?”

  “Yeah.” But even I’m not convinced it’s true, especially since my legs feel wobbly as I stand. I check my pockets. My phone is missing, and my car key has almost freed itself from my pocket. I shove it down and look over the ground for my lime-green phone case.

  “It’s right here.”

  I spin around, my breath matching the erratic feelings I can’t seem to compartmentalize. “Oh, thanks.” But as I go to reach for the device, Bryson pulls it back and forces eye contact instead.

  “What’s going on in your head?”

  I shouldn’t be surprised by his directness. He’s been exactly that since the moment he sat next to me on the swing and upended my personal life. I take the phone, my mind tumbling, and slide it in my pocket. “I’m nervous, I guess.”

  “Why?”

  “Because I don’t have any experience with this type of thing. And you’re . . . well, you’re you.”

  Silence vibrates between us as hurt spreads across his brow.

  “And you’re you,” he says slowly, carefully. “The girl who’s always been off-limits, the girl who never once noticed me until your life fell apart.” The tremble of fear in his voice slays me. He reaches up and caresses my cheek. “That doesn’t exactly leave me with a lot of security either.”

/>   I don’t move. I’m not sure I’m even breathing. Zoe had been right. I’d missed everything. “I never knew you felt this way.”

  “Like I said, I don’t let people in very easily.”

  I stare into his beautiful, waiting eyes, the enormity of his admission pressing against my chest. “I would never hurt you.”

  “I know you wouldn’t on purpose.” He presses his forehead into my neck, runs a trail of delightful kisses to my ear. “Which is why I’m willing to risk being vulnerable, if you are.”

  I sigh, closing my eyes, lost in the wonderful sensations he’s creating. “Oh . . . I’m definitely willing.”

  “I’m very happy to hear that,” he whispers, moving to the underside of my jaw.

  I giggle at the way it tickles and pull away. “Easy, tiger. Too much of that and we’ll be back on the ground.”

  Creases deepen around his eyes. “You don’t hear me complaining.”

  “Well, my stomach might pretty soon.” I back away, unable to stop the perpetual smile on my face. “Last I checked, there was a dinner wager.”

  He swings his arm around my shoulder and pulls me tight against his side, leaning down to kiss me one more time before we start our trek back to the cars. “Yes, and if I recall, you lost, which means I get to pick the place.”

  I pause, realizing I have no idea what Bryson’s favorite restaurant is or even what type of food he likes. The thought warms my insides even more than his kiss did. It’s nice that there are still some mysteries there. Ones I’m truly looking forward to discovering.

  twenty-three

  In all the years I’ve known Bryson, I’ve never once seen him be affectionate, not even with his girlfriends. Yet in the past five days we’ve spent together, he hasn’t gone one minute without holding my hand or finding some way for the two of us to be touching.

  Even now, while I’m wet with perspiration, trying to get Penny to listen, his fingers graze the tips of my pulled-back hair.

  “What is the point of this again?” he asks, his hand sliding lazily across my back.

  We’re both standing outside of Bentley’s old kennel, watching Penny trot around with a tennis ball in her mouth.

  I sigh, frustrated, not with him but with Penny’s stubbornness. “She needs a job. Something that makes her feel useful so that we can redirect her aggressive energy into something positive.”

  “I think she’d rather just chew on the ball.” He leans his forearms on the top of the kennel, the wire bowing slightly under the weight. His tattoo peeks out when his shirtsleeve rides up, and without thinking I drag my fingertips across his skin.

  “Why did you get this?”

  “To tick off my stepfather.”

  I push his sleeve until it stays tightly around his shoulder. “I’m serious.”

  “So am I.” He grunts a laugh, his hazel eyes teasing me. “And if you keep touching me like that, I’m going to have to break your ‘no making out in front of Charlie’ rule.”

  I glance toward the house and confirm he’s not around. “Why won’t you tell me what it means?”

  His muscles tense, which is how I know he’s not being totally honest. Bryson’s tells have become clearer since that first day on the swing together. When he’s angry or upset, he distances physically and uses sarcasm or arrogant comments to force even more separation. But when it’s deeper, when he’s hurt or threatened, his entire body locks up. It’s as if he creates a cocoon around himself to protect from oncoming blows.

  “It’s okay if you don’t want to talk about it.”

  “It’s hard to admit weakness.” His struggle for words cuts a hole through me. He lifts his arm and stares at the ring of barbwire that has no beginning or end. “I got it a month after he gave me my truck. A reminder that I sold out. That like my mom and sister, I let him own me.”

  “I thought you loved that truck.”

  “I hate that truck and everything it represents.”

  “Then why keep it all this time?” And not just keep it. In just the short time we’ve been close, I’ve seen how much energy and money he’s poured into it, just to ensure it stays running.

  “Because it’s also the last thing I have that connects me to them.” He stares off toward the driveway, where the truck in question sits. “How’s that for screwed up?”

  I scoot closer and softly press my lips to his marked skin. “You’re not screwed up.” I don’t have the words to tell him how strong I think he is, or how much I love seeing the tenderness of the sweet little boy I knew peek through the hardened shell he’s formed.

  Bryson reaches out and touches my hand. His fingers slowly slide up my arm to my neck and his thumb traces a slow, lazy circle over my collarbone. Then it’s an invasion of my personal space, every part of him connecting to every part of me. Hot embers burn in my chest. I inhale the scent of him, one I’m starting to crave more and more.

  “You’re so beautiful.” His lips brush against my eyelids, his voice tender.

  “I’m a sweaty mess.” I duck my chin, wondering when this feeling of light-headedness that he seems to bring out in me will go away.

  “You’re beautiful,” he says more emphatically this time. “You always have been, but lately it’s gut-wrenching how much I want to be near you.”

  He bends over and his lips meet mine, soft, loving, and I shiver beneath their touch.

  “You’re trembling.” A crease deepens between his brows. “Did I admit too much?”

  “No.” I gently finger the hair at his temples, reassuring him. “I’m just trying to reconcile who you are with who I’ve always known you to be. You’re so different. Or, I don’t know, maybe you’re not and I’m just finally seeing who you always have been.”

  “I’m no saint, if that’s what you’re implying.” He grins mischievously, and my knees turn to water. “But I am happy, Darcy. For maybe the first time in my entire life, I feel completely . . . content. That alone will change a person.”

  A growl comes from our feet, and I reluctantly look away from Bryson to see what Penny is complaining about. The ball she’d been gnawing on is a completely mangled mess at her feet.

  I untangle my arms from his embrace and stare at the shredded green material on the ground. “If you think I’m just going to get you another one to destroy, you’re delusional.”

  Bryson scowls at the stubborn terrier. “I think you’re the one who’s delusional. That dog is never going to listen to you. She’s too far gone.”

  “Don’t be a hater.” I throw him a glare that makes him laugh instead of cower. “Penny’s smart. She’ll learn.”

  “If you say so. I for one am going back inside where it’s air conditioned.” He slides his hands around my cheeks and kisses me deeply before letting go. “Join me when you’re done beating your head against the wall.” He winks when I push him away, my grin practically schoolgirl silly. He walks backward, never taking his eyes off me, until finally he reaches the steps and disappears through Charlie’s door.

  I watch the empty space, longer than I should, before turning back to my task. Any residual giddiness fades the minute I see Penny lying down with a new ball in her mouth. “Okay, it’s time to get serious.” I unlatch the gate and join the little dog inside the kennel. “No more fooling around.”

  Immediately she growls, a warning that I better not try to take her toy away. Not to worry, I need her to want to do this. Forcing her is only going to spark more aggravation. Mimicking what I want her to do, I jog to the shallow barrel on the far side of the kennel, pick up one of the tennis balls, and jog back to the gate to drop it into the empty identical barrel. I hold up the treat. “Now it’s your turn.”

  She drops the ball in her mouth, eager to get a bite, but I pull it back. “Nope, come get the ball first.” Once again, I jog toward the full barrel, this time with Penny at my heels. No surprise, she’s got this part down. It’s the letting go she’s not so good at.

  “Good girl.” I give her a small rewar
d and point to the waiting pile of tennis balls.

  She grabs one in her mouth and we both jog back to the barrel. Like before, Penny runs around the metal pot but refuses to drop the ball inside.

  I motion for her again, wave the treat, and coax her forward. Nothing. In fact, I think she’s laughing at me. “Ugh!” I growl up at the sky and lace my hands behind my neck.

  Penny’s fur rises on her neck, and I know I need to calm down before I do more damage than good.

  “Tell you what, let’s take a break, and you can chew all you want.” I pick up the end of her leash and tie it to the fence. The spaces between slats are small, but if she really wanted to escape, she could easily push herself between them.

  I lock the gate behind me and head to the water hose. It’s ninety-five and climbing, and I want nothing more than to douse myself with a bucketful of water. For now, though, I’ll settle for a good hands-and-face washing.

  A bark stops me mid-step. I turn toward the only dog capable of making that kind of noise. Louie’s out of his doghouse and standing by the gate, staring at me.

  “Well, look who finally decided to make an appearance.” I glance at Charlie’s house and then back to Louie. Makes sense that he waited until we were alone to appear. It’s not that he doesn’t like Bryson, but he certainly doesn’t share my same level of trust.

  I abandon my trek to the hose and let myself into Louie’s cage. “You smell those treats, don’t you?”

  He dances around and then eagerly sits the second I fasten his gate. “Wow. Look at you, Mr. Smarty-Pants.” I reward him with a chunky morsel, only having to remind him once to take it gently from my hands.

  He finishes chewing and sits again, closer this time.

  “You’re going to have to do more than sit for a second one.” I carefully reach out and wait to see if he pulls away. He remains still, his ears relaxed, so I inch close enough that my fingers graze the soft skin on his snout. “Good boy,” I whisper, careful that nothing I do is jarring in any way. I run my hand along his head and down the back to his neck.