by W Winters
It was years ago, but the memory remains.
The feeling of betrayal, for fantasizing about Tyler’s older brother.
The heartache from knowing what happened only three weeks after that night.
The desire and desperation to go back to that point and beg Tyler to never come looking for me.
All of those emotions swirl into a deadly concoction in the pit of my stomach. It’s been years since I’ve been tormented by the remembrance of Tyler and what we had. And by the memories of Daniel and what never was.
Years have passed.
But it all comes back to me after seeing Daniel last night.
Chapter 1
Addison
The night before
* * *
I love this bar. Iron Heart Brewery. It’s nestled in the center of the city and located at the corner of this street. The town itself has history. Hints of the old cobblestone streets peek through the torn asphalt and all the signs here are worn and faded, decorated with weathered paint. I can’t help but to be drawn here.
And with the varied memorabilia lining the walls, from signed knickknacks to old glass bottles of liquor, this place is flooded with a welcoming warmth. It’s a quiet bar with all local and draft beers a few blocks away from the chaos of campus. So it’s just right for me.
“Make up your mind?”
My body jolts at the sudden question. It only gets me a rough laugh from the tall man on my left, the bartender who spooked me. A grey shirt with the brewery logo on it fits the man well, forming to his muscular shoulders. With a bit of stubble and a charming smirk, he’s not bad looking. And at that thought, my cheeks heat with a blush.
I could see us making out behind the bar; I can even hear the bottles clinking as we crash against the wall in a moment of passion. But that’s where it would end for me. No hot and dirty sex on the hard floor. No taking him back to my barely furnished apartment.
I roll my eyes at the thought and blow a strand of hair away from my face as I meet his gaze.
I’m sure he flirts with everyone. But it doesn’t make it any less fun for the moment.
“Whatever your favorite is,” I tell him sheepishly. “I’m not picky.” I have to press my lips together and hold back my smile when he widens his and nods.
“You new to town?” he asks me.
I shrug and have to slide the strap to my tank top back up onto my shoulder. Before I can answer, the door to the brewery and bar swings open, bringing in the sounds of the nightlife with it. It closes after two more customers leave. Looking over my shoulder through the large glass door at the front, I can see them heading out. The woman is leaning heavily against a strong man who’s obviously her significant other.
Giving the bartender my attention again, I’m very much aware that there are only six of us here now. Two older men at the high top bar, talking in hushed voices and occasionally laughing so loud that I have to take a peek at them.
And one other couple who are seated at a table in the corner of the bar. The couple who just left had been sitting with them. All four are older than I am. I’d guess married with children and having a night out on the town.
And then there’s the bartender and me.
“I’m not really from here, no.”
“Just passing through?” he asks me as he walks toward the bar. I’m a table away, but he keeps his eyes on me as he reaches for a glass and hits the tap to fill it with something dark and decadent.
“I’m thinking about going to the university actually. To study business. I came to check it out.” I don’t tell him that I’m putting down some temporary roots regardless of whether or not I like the school here. Every year or so I move somewhere new … searching for what could feel like home.
His eyebrow raises and he looks me up and down, making me feel naked. “Your ID isn’t fake, right?” he asks and then tilts the tall glass in his hand to let the foam slide down the side.
“It isn’t fake, I swear,” I say with a smile and hold up my hands in defense. “I chose to travel instead of going to college. I’ve got a little business, but I thought finally learning more about the technicalities of it all would be a step in the right direction.” I pause, thinking about how a degree feels more like a distraction than anything else. It’s a reason to settle down and stop moving from place to place. It could be the change I need. Something needs to change.
His expression turns curious and I can practically hear all the questions on his lips. Where did you go? What did you do? Why did you leave your home so young and naïve? I’ve heard them all before and I have a prepared list of answers in my head for such questions.
But they’re all lies. Pretty little lies.
He cleans off the glass before walking back over and pulling out the seat across from me.
Just as the legs of the chair scrape across the floor, the door behind me opens again, interrupting our conversation and the soft strums of the acoustic guitar playing in the background.
The motion brings a cold breeze with it that sends goosebumps down my shoulder and spine. A chill I can’t ignore.
The bartender’s ass doesn’t even touch the chair. Whoever it is has his full attention.
As I lean down to reach for the cardigan laying on top of my purse, he puts up a finger and mouths, “One second.”
The smile on my face is for him, but it falters when I hear the voice behind me.
Everything goes quiet as the door shuts and I listen to them talking. My body tenses and my breath leaves me. Frozen in place, I can’t even slip on the cardigan as my blood runs cold.
My heart skips one beat and then another as a rough laugh rises above the background noise of the small bar.
“Yeah, I’ll take an ale, something local,” I hear Daniel say before he slips into view. I know it’s him. That voice haunted me for years. His strides are confident and strong, just like I remember them. And as he passes me to take a seat by the bar, I can’t take my eyes off of him.
He’s taller and he looks older, but the slight resemblance to Tyler is still there. As my heart learns its rhythm again, I notice his sharp cheekbones and my gaze drifts to his hard jaw, covered with a five o’clock shadow. I’d always thought of him as tall and handsome, albeit in a dark and brooding way. And that’s still true.
He could fool you with his charm, but there’s a darkness that never leaves his eyes.
His fingers spear through his hair as he checks out the beer options written in chalk on the board behind the bar. His hair’s longer on top than it is on the sides, and I can’t help but to imagine what it would feel like to grab on to it. It’s a fantasy I’ve always had.
The timbre in his voice makes my body shudder.
And then heat.
I watch his throat as he talks, I notice the little movements as he pulls out a chair in the corner of the bar across from me. If only he would look my way, he’d see me.
Breathe. Just breathe.
My tongue darts out to lick my lips and I try to avert my eyes, but I can’t.
I can’t do a damn thing but wait for him to notice me.
I almost whisper the command, look at me. I think it so loud I’m sure it can be heard by every soul in this bar.
And finally, as if hearing the silent plea, he looks my way. His knuckles rap the table as he waits for his beer, but they stop mid-motion when his gaze reaches mine.
There’s a heat, a spark of recognition. So intense and so raw that my body lights, every nerve ending alive with awareness.
And then it vanishes. Replaced with a bitter chill as he turns away. Casually. As if there was nothing there. As if he doesn’t even recognize me.
I used to think it was all in my mind back then. Five years ago when we’d share a glance and that same feeling would ignite within me.
But this just happened. I know it did.
And I know he knows who I am.
With anger beginning to rise, my lips part to say his name, but it’s caught in
my throat. It smothers the sadness that’s rising just as quickly. Slowly my fingers curl, forming a fist until my nails dig into my skin.
I don’t stop staring at him, willing him to look at me and at least give me the courtesy of acknowledging me.
I know he can feel my eyes on him. He’s stopped rapping his knuckles on the table and the smile on his face has faded.
Maybe the crushing feeling in my chest is shared by both of us.
Maybe I’m only a reminder to him. A reminder he ran away from too.
I don’t know what I expected. I’ve dreamed of running into Daniel so many nights. Brushing shoulders on the way into a coffee shop. Meeting each other again through new friends. Every time I wound up back home, if you can even call it that, I always checked out every person passing me by, secretly wishing one would be him. Just so I’d have a reason to say his name.
Winding up at the same bar on a lonely Tuesday night hours away from the town we grew up in … that was one of those daydreams too. But it didn’t go like this in my head.
“Daniel.” I say his name before I can stop myself. It comes out like a croak and he reluctantly turns his head as the bartender sets down the beer on the wooden table.
I swear it’s so quiet, I can hear the foam fizzing as it settles in the glass.
His lips part just slightly, as if he’s about to speak. And then he visibly inhales. It’s a sharp breath and matches the gaze he gives me. First it’s one of confusion, then anger … and then nothing.
I have to remind my lungs to do their job as I clear my throat to correct myself, but both efforts are in vain.
He looks past me as if it wasn’t me who was trying to get his attention.
“Jake,” he speaks up, licking his lips and stretching his back. “I actually can’t stay,” he bellows from his spot to where the bartender, apparently named Jake, is chucking ice into a large glass. The music seems to get louder as the crushing weight of being so obviously dismissed and rejected settles in me.
I’m struck by how cold he is as he gets up. I can’t stand to look at him as he readies to leave, but his name leaves me again. This time with bite.
His back stiffens as he shrugs his thin jacket around his shoulders and slowly turns to look at me.
I can feel his eyes on me, commanding me to look back at him and I do. I dare to look him in the eyes and say, “It’s good to see you.” It’s surprising how even the words come out. How I can appear to be so calm when inside I’m burning with both anger and … something else I don’t care to admit. What a lie those words are.
I hate how he gets to me. How I never had a choice.
With a hint of a nod, Daniel barely acknowledges me. His smile is tight, practically nonexistent, and then he’s gone.
Chapter 2
Daniel
* * *
My father taught me an important lesson I’ll never forget.
Never let a soul know what you really feel.
Never express it.
Only show them what you want them to see.
I hear his voice as I slip my hands in my jacket pockets and keep walking down Lincoln Street with my heart pounding in my chest and anxiety coursing in my blood. Two more blocks and I’ll wait there. The alley is the perfect place to wait and collect myself.
Until then, my blood will pound in my ears, my veins will turn cold and my muscles will stay coiled. But I won’t let anyone see that. Never.
I remember how my father gripped my shoulder when he looked me in the eyes and gave me that advice.
His dark stare was something no one ever forgot. It was impassive and cold. I lived many days wondering if my father loved me. I know my mother did. We were family and his blood, but he would never show any emotion and after that night, neither would I.
I was fourteen years old. And standing only a few feet away from the body of someone I once knew. I don’t even remember his name. A friend of my father’s. He worked in the business and gave the wrong person the wrong impression.
When you reveal that fear, that anger, that emotion, you give someone a hint of how to get to you. And that’s what my father’s friend had done. When someone gets to you, you end up dead.
My shoes slap on the concrete sidewalk as I slow down at the intersection, as if I’m merely waiting for the cars to stop at the red light so I can cross. It’s not a busy night, so only a few people are walking down the street. A man to my right lights up a cigarette and leans against the brick wall to a liquor store.
I make my way around the block, replaying what happened in my head. It was supposed to be a simple, easy night. Another night of waiting for Marcus to show for the drop-off or waiting to hear word about what’s going on with the deal between my brother and the cartel.
She caught me off guard.
Addison Fawn.
She’s always been able to do that. She gets to me in a way I despise.
She makes me remember.
She makes me weak.
Another step and I see her face. Her high cheekbones and piercing green eyes. I love the way her hair falls in front of her face. There’s always something effortless about it, like she doesn’t put an ounce of work into looking as fuckable as she does.
The cool night air whips past me as I round the corner. The next alley will take me where I want to go. Directly across from the lot where her car must be. It’s the only parking lot on this street for three blocks.
I swallow thickly, checking my phone again. It’s been three minutes since I’ve left.
Three minutes is more than enough time for her to pay the tab and walk off.
I don’t know if she will though.
It’s been years since I’ve felt like I’ve known who she is.
Years since I’ve heard her say my name.
The corners of my lips turn up in a smirk as I hear the hesitancy in her voice replay in my memory and I let it. Like she was scared to say my name out loud.
It echoes in my head as I lean against the wall of the dark alley and gives me a thrill I haven’t felt in a long time. Too long.
The alley is narrow, the type of passageway built decades and decades ago before the world knew better. Before humanity realized they were inviting sins in the night with small spaces like these.
My phone vibrates in my pocket, and I take a quick look around me before pulling it out.
There are four cars parked in the dirt lot. The streetlight on the right side illuminates the area easily, as do the headlights of a passing car.
My eyes flicker to the text on my phone and the amusement from only moments ago leaves me instantly.
Who’s the girl? Jake texted and I’m reminded that I upped and left as if she mattered. As if her existence would cause an issue.
And of course it does. More than anyone could know.
My shoulders rise as I draw in a deep breath and let it out slowly, releasing the anger from letting her get to me and I focus on regaining control. Control is everything.
No one, I write him back but think better of it. It’s obvious she’s someone to me and Jake needs to be reassured. My brother’s ex, I add.
My body tenses as I wait for him to respond. I keep my posture relaxed, although I’m anything but.
Off limits? Jake must have a fucking death wish.
I can’t help the way my teeth grind as I text a response and then delete it before finally firing off a quick message.
For now. If Marcus comes tonight, tell him I’ll be back late. I’m smoldering with rage as I realize how stupid it was to risk missing the meet with Marcus all over a quick emotion I couldn’t suppress. Shock, anger … fear even. She’s only a girl. Inwardly, I can hear myself seething.
Alright, Jake messages me, making the phone vibrate in my hand. I almost ask him if Addison is still there. My fingertips itch to push for information.
But it’s not needed.
Even as Jake continues to text me about the drop-off, I watch the skirt sway around Addison’s hip
s. It’s the color of cream and loose on her, not giving me any hints of how her ass looks right now. But her legs are on full display.
I’ve always thought of Addison the same way, even after everything that went down. From the first day I met her until this very second. She’s a sad, but beautiful girl. You can see her pain in every bit of her features when she doesn’t know someone’s looking. Like I often did. From the way her full lips pout delicately, to the way her eyes seem to stare off in the distance, even when she’s looking right at you it’s as if she can see through you.
Those eyes have haunted me. The beautiful shades of green and brown are like the sunset over a forest. Like flecks of light peeking through and enhancing the darkness that’s soon to come.
She runs her hand over her soft porcelain skin and through the modest waves in her thick dark hair. Even those slight movements and the swing of her hips as she walks carry a sadness with them. It never leaves her. It defines her. But it suits her well.
More than sad, and more than beautiful, Addison is memorable. Unforgettable.
Her car beeps as she unlocks it, a shiny new black Honda from the looks of it, and the sound echoes in the alley. She’s parked in the third spot in the row of cars lined up under the streetlight. She looks to the left and right, cursing as she drops her keys in the gravel.
My dick stirs in my pants, straining against the fabric and I let out a low groan at the sight of her bent over. Her hair is swept to one side and the strap of her top is falling off her shoulder, giving me a view of that soft spot in the crook of her neck.
I adjust my dick and memorize the curves of her hips and waist until she opens up her car door and slips inside.
Every second my breaths come in heavier. The air around me feels as if it wants to suffocate me. Her tires kick up the gravel in the lot and I have to take a step back into the alley to avoid her headlights as she turns out onto the street.
