Love and the Silver Lining

by Tammy L. Gray

  “I do not.”

  “Yes, you do.” He kisses the top of my head with such tender sweetness I want to wilt. “But you don’t have to be nervous with me. This transparency is what I’ve been waiting for . . . what I’ve wanted between us all along.” He hooks his arm around my waist and pulls me forward with a jerk. “Now kiss me goodbye, because if you keep biting your lip like that, I can promise I’m not letting you go anywhere.”

  The contact comes just as furiously, my hands gripping his shirt in an effort to bring him closer and closer, all the way to my beating heart.

  These are my favorite kind of kisses with him. The passionate ones. The ones that make me feel boneless and electric all at the same time.

  The release is slow as neither of us wants to let go, but we know we have to.

  “I’ll come over after we’re done,” he whispers, his mouth still centimeters from mine. “And we’ll figure it all out together.”

  For the first time in days, I feel a small measure of relief. “Okay. Thank you.”

  “You’re welcome.” He lifts his head, but instead of releasing me, he freezes.

  “What?” But it only takes my following his line of sight to see the cause. Cameron is standing in the living room.

  Our gazes meet and there’s a condemning darkness in his eyes I’ve never seen before.

  Ice fills my belly.

  “Tell me I’m not seeing this.” His eyes flick from me to Bryson, then back to me. “Tell me I’m hallucinating and he isn’t the guy you’ve been dating.” My best friend shoves both of his hands through his hair like his head is about to explode. “Tell me now, Darcy, that the lead singer of my band is not your summer fling.”

  Bryson’s body locks up like a steel machine the minute those words dart across the room, but I don’t have time to worry about misconceptions. “Cameron . . .”

  His curse is loud as he storms away, the front door slamming with a force that makes the lampshades rattle.

  I try to disentangle myself, but Bryson’s grip only gets tighter. “Let him go. He’ll cool down, and the three of us will finally have the conversation that should have happened a while ago.”

  “I can’t let him leave like this. You saw how upset he was.”

  “He’s not the only one upset here.” Bryson’s hold releases, though I can tell he doesn’t want to. “Is that really what you told him? That this thing between us is just a fling?”

  “No. He assumed that’s what it was.”

  “And you didn’t correct him?”

  “Why does it matter?”

  “Because it does.”

  My gaze shifts to the closed front door, every second a guarantee that Cameron will be gone before I ever get outside. “I have to go after him.”

  “Fine, then I’m going with you.” Bryson moves to follow me, but I halt his motion with my palm to his chest.

  “Please, stay here. Things are bad enough without him feeling like we’re ganging up on him.” Bryson stares at my hand, lingering for a long, scrutinizing moment before he finally steps back. I know I’m not being fair, but I’m also not going to participate in a three-way screaming match. Fair or not, Bryson’s presence will only make this entire nightmare worse.

  I rush to the door, ignoring the hurt and insecurity I’m leaving behind. Bryson is different from Cam. He’s stronger. More mature. We can fix us later.

  “Cameron . . . wait. I’m so sorry. I never wanted you to find out this way.” I catch him just outside the front door, almost as if he was waiting for me to follow. “We were going to tell you.”

  He turns around, fuming. “When?”

  I blink, taken back by the rage in his voice. I expected hurt and even a little anger, but not this. “After the concert. Just like I told you.”

  “Yeah, nice touch, by the way, with the whole ‘trust me, he’ll be there’ line.” His voice is filled with a disgust that’s never been directed at me. “How could you do this to me? He’s my bandmate, Darcy! He’s tied to every one of my dreams.”

  “I didn’t do it on purpose. It just sort of happened.”

  “Nothing just happens with him! It was premeditated from the first moment he saw you walk through this door.” He throws his arms into the air. “Have you forgotten who you’re dealing with here? It’s Bryson! Bryson, Darcy. You know what he’s capable of.” Cameron walks across the lawn and then back again, his hard steps punctuating his growing anger. “What happens when he tires of you, huh? How am I supposed to get up onstage and pretend I don’t hate him when he breaks your heart?” He stops in front of me. “Because that’s exactly what he’s going to do!”

  I stare at him, apology quickly turning to irritation. “He’s different with me. He really cares—”

  “Oh, bull.” Cameron looks ready to vomit. “He’s the same guy he’s always been. He’s using you, Darcy. And this is nothing more than one more way for him to prove that he can get whatever he wants.”

  “So what are you saying?” I ask through gritted teeth. “That I’m just some stupid girl who let him?”

  He spreads his arms wide. “Apparently!”

  The silence that falls between us is so heavy I feel like drowning under its weight. We both need to calm down. Both need to stop and talk about this rationally like we always do.

  But Cameron is still incensed. His nostrils flare and his eyes narrow at the house he just stormed out of. “I knew something was up. He’s been too cagey; his resentment obvious. I just didn’t want to believe he’d try to push me out this close to us finally making it.” He paces again, shaking his head, his hands drawn into fists. “January warned me. She nailed him in one interaction and told me he’d do this the minute I outshined him. The minute my influence superseded his, he’d find a way to get rid of me. I got us this contract.” He slaps his hand against his chest. “I did, not him. And he couldn’t handle it. He has to be the star . . . always.” Cameron steps closer, his chest an imposing wall. His eyes glow like a beast. “Don’t think for a second it’s a coincidence you two got together after that concert. He knew I wouldn’t leave without a fight. And this was his kill shot—you.”

  I stand there, stunned with disbelief, trying to find my voice.

  “And what I can’t understand. What my mind cannot wrap around is the fact that you let him!” His hands tremble as he backs away. “What were you thinking? You watched what he did to Alison. You comforted her when she came home crying. Or did it not matter that in one thoughtless decision you put a knife in both of our backs?”

  “Hey!” Anger and guilt punch through the strangle in my throat. “If you want to talk about you and me, then fine. But leave Alison out of it.”

  “I can’t leave her out of it, and neither should you!” He viciously pulls his phone from his back pocket and tries to shove it in my hand. “Call her. Call her now and ask her what it was really like on tour with him. Ask her how cold he became the minute we left town. How he flinched at every touch and made excuses to get away from her. Ask her, because I’m sure there’s more.” When I refuse to take the device, he shoves it back in his jeans. “He knows how to play the part. How to suck you in and make you believe he’s not completely broken. But he is, Darcy. He is. He’s the kind of broken that brings a random girl to his bed the same night he sticks his devastated girlfriend on a bus home.”

  A chill seeps through my skin, and I cross my arms to ward off the shiver. “I don’t believe you.”

  “Oh, it’s true, every word.” He steps forward, his tone ripe with sarcasm. “And unlike you, I don’t make a practice of lying to the people I supposedly care about.”

  My eyes burn with misery. I hate every one of our words. Hate that this person in front of me feels like a stranger.

  He studies me, the line of his jaw still tight with anger, but his brows pull together, plaintive, sympathetic. “What is going on with you? Because what I saw in there makes no sense. He is not the man you want. Not the man you’ve spent twenty-nine y
ears waiting for. How could you, for any reason, settle for him?” He points to the closed front door, his voice rising once more. “A guy who is incapable of caring for anyone other than himself! A guy who will never be the kind of father and husband you need him to be, because he has no idea what love even looks like. Have you thought of any of that?”

  Bile rises in my throat with each one of his cruel words. “Stop it.”

  “No, I won’t stop it. Not until you see the truth.” He grips my arms, and both our bodies shake under the intense surge of emotion. “Bryson is just like your father. In every way. He’s selfish and cunning, and when he’s done bleeding you dry, he’ll walk away without a second thought.”

  “Let go of me,” I cry, pushing him away. Angry tears blur my vision while my heart feels as if it might explode into a thousand pieces of shrapnel. “It isn’t the same.”

  “It’s exactly the same!” His voice lowers and comes at me like a blade. “Is that what this is, Darcy? Some sick Freudian transference? You couldn’t get your father to stick around so you decide to find someone just like him to fill the void?”

  The air freezes between us, his words dragging through me like a tangled line, ripping open all the wounds I thought I’d closed. “I can’t believe you just said that to me.” I push past him, but he grabs my arm and whirls me around.

  “Somebody had to. Because I don’t even know who you are anymore.” His own furious tears pool in his eyes as we stand there, a churning fire between us.

  I can’t stand it. The pain is too great, the betrayal in his eyes too gut-wrenching to stomach. I jerk my arm from his grip and run to my old truck, the gears grinding as I peel out of the driveway.

  The rules of the road make no impression on me. I blow through stop signs, speed at a rate that would undoubtedly get me thrown in jail, and push my truck to its absolute limit before pulling into Charlie’s driveway. The tears have long since dried until all that’s left are Cameron’s hateful words rolling through my head over and over again.

  I slam my door and kick the tire. One, two, three more times until it physically hurts to kick it again. I set my hands on my hips, breathe in and out until I convince myself I’m calm enough to deal with the animals.

  It’s my job, after all, and isn’t that what I’ve been preaching to Charlie for weeks? That Penny needs an outlet, that she needs to feel useful and important and not stuck in some cage she has absolutely no control over.

  I storm through the yard, ignoring Louie even though he runs to the gate and wags his long tail spastically. “Not today,” I mumble.

  Charlie’s gone and so is Macey, a very good thing right now.

  Penny scratches incessantly at the crate when I open the laundry room door.

  “I’m coming.” I tear the leash from the wall, undo the latch, and click the metal to her collar before she can bolt away from me.

  We do our usual walk around the barn, letting her do her business before the real work begins. With every step, I work to calm my nerves, work to silence the voice in my head that screams maybe Cameron is right. Maybe I did go for Bryson because he was different and dangerous. Maybe all of this is part of the swirling vortex that has become my pathetic life.

  I tug Penny forward, irritated it’s taking her so long today. Louie sees us coming and chases along the fence, agitated, just like he used to before, like he can sense the charged energy I’m emoting.

  Penny growls and lunges for Louie, only I’m prepared for as much and drag her all the way to Bentley’s old kennel, her paws digging in the dirt as she barks ferociously at the dog who’s ten times heavier than she is.

  “Get in there!” I yell and shove the fighting dog to the middle of the dirt floor before locking us both inside. “We’re not doing this today, do you hear me?” The edge in my voice makes her retreat, and all the hair on her back rises in defense. “I’m sorry.” I take a deep breath. “I’m calm, really.”

  But nothing feels calm anymore, especially not me.

  Louie’s barking turns erratic, and I take my eyes off Penny for one second to assure him I’m okay.

  It’s one second too long. The leash slips from my hand as Penny struggles through the kennel’s hog squares and races free.

  “No!” Blood pounds in my ears as I rush to the gate, my shaking fingers fumbling with the lock. “Open, please, please open!” Finally it does, and I make it to the yard at the same time Penny forces her way inside Louie’s cage. I take off in a sprint as the horrific sound of two dogs battling for dominance assaults my ears.

  Everything falls into movie-like slow motion. I can’t get my feet to run fast enough. Can’t reach the gate or stop the two dogs tangled on the ground, mouths open, biting, growling, hurting each other.

  Fear and chaos claw from my gut to my windpipe. “Penny, no!” I scream. Her jaw is locked around the skin at Louie’s neck. I’m paralyzed, helpless to stop the fight without putting myself at risk. “Louie, stop!” I scream louder, but it’s useless. He’s left with no choice but to defend himself the way Macey never has.

  An ear-piercing cry escapes Louie’s mouth, and instinct trumps all sense. I rush between the dogs, forgoing all my training, and wrestle away paws and nails until I grab Penny in mid-attack.

  Pain slices through my hand, but I don’t stop until I have Penny against my chest and my uninjured palm clamped around her mouth so she can no longer hurt anyone.

  Louie rushes inside his doghouse, whimpering. He lowers his head and licks at his paws. My body goes cold, my heart crushed by the reality that I did this. I never should have come here. Not like this.

  “I’m so sorry,” I say to the terrified Great Dane. “This is all my fault.”

  Still holding Penny tight to my chest, I free us from the kennel and rush to the back door. She’s stopped fighting me now, which gives me a chance to check her over for damage. Blood soaks her sleek white fur, and panic rises until I ascertain that it’s my blood, not hers, and that somehow Louie managed to defend himself without seriously hurting her, something he easily could have done if he wanted to.

  I gently put her back in her cage and lock it up. It’s the first time Penny doesn’t fight me on it. For once, the crate feels like a safe place.

  The floor trembles beneath my feet, the adrenaline drop so severe I reach for the wall as I slowly sink to the ground. Red handprints slide down the white paint, but it’s all I can do to steady the drop. I work to breathe, the air catching in my throat like hot coals, burning my chest with every inhale. I scoot to the wall to find some sense of support. It helps. The tightness in my chest eases until once again I can exhale without pain.

  Penny watches me through the slats in the door. Probably asking me the questions I keep asking myself. Why did you come here? Why did you jeopardize so much?

  I lower my forehead to my knees, unable to answer either one.

  twenty-nine

  The bleeding down my arm doesn’t allow me to stay in my hunched position for long. Slowly, I rise to my feet, checking to ensure my balance is once again steady. My right hand screams out in pain as I spread it fully to examine the extent of the damage. The cut is in the soft tissue between my thumb and index finger, and it’s deep enough that stitches are a real possibility.

  I stumble to the kitchen sink, my body still fighting off the shock of earlier, and hold my hand under a rush of water. Burning fire scorches my skin at the contact, but I force it steady under the stream, all while pumping soap in my other hand.

  Because my luck is just that terrible today, the back door opens right when I begin scrubbing the wound and long before I can clean up the trail of blood that extends from the door to the laundry room. Not to mention the permanently crimson-stained T-shirt I’m wearing that is supposed to be a butter yellow.

  Charlie takes no time in assessing my state. He hurries toward me and grabs a handful of paper towels. “I’m calling Animal Control tomorrow.”

  “It wasn’t her fault. I was upset and angry,
and I should never have come out here.”

  “I don’t care if you drop-kicked her to the moon. I will not keep a dog that bites in my house.”

  “She didn’t bite me on purpose. She got loose and went after Louie. This happened when I was breaking up the fight.”

  “That doesn’t change my mind.”

  “Well, it should!” I holler and immediately wish I hadn’t. Charlie watches me like a handful of lit firecrackers. “Sorry.” I hunch over the sink, my forearms bearing my body weight since my hand is still dangling in the stainless-steel bowl. “It’s just that you and Macey, well, you deal with your grief by mourning quietly. Penny is different. She’s angry at her circumstances, but deep down, it’s still grief. Surely you can understand that.”

  He gently takes my hand and examines the wound, forcing me to stand back up. “I don’t think it’s deep enough for stitches, but you should still go get it seen.”

  “I had a tetanus shot this past year when I was getting ready for my trip. As long as I keep it dry and dosed with antibiotic cream, the cut will be fine. This isn’t the first time I’ve been bitten by an animal.” Though it is the first one I’ve felt responsible for. I watch him, my voice turning to a plea. “Please, Charlie, if you send her away because of my stupidity, I’ll never forgive myself.”

  He presses his lips together and sighs. “Fine. But no fair tomorrow. I cannot in good conscience give that dog to someone else until I know this is an isolated incident.” He sets my towel-wrapped hand on the counter. “Don’t move. I’ll be back with some bandages.”

  I hold my arm to my chest and lean my backside against the sink. Through the window I can hear Louie’s barking, loud and steady, just like it used to be a month ago.

  “Stupid, stupid,” I moan, realizing for maybe the first time that it wasn’t just Penny’s progress that took a hit today but Louie’s, as well.

  Charlie returns with a first-aid kit in hand and finishes tending to the wound. From his silence and the scowl on his face, I know he’s not happy with me or with his animals.