When I Was Yours, When You Were Mine

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When I Was Yours, When You Were Mine Page 2

by Evie Sinclair


  “Glen Brode.” Glen shakes his hand. “What Mae said - good set. And sorry about your shoulder, man. You're a beast on the field.”

  “Thanks.” Is all Glen receives in response. “You want a drink?” He asks, focused on me.

  “Uh - yeah that’d be nice. Gin and soda please.”

  “I would have totally picked you as a gin and soda girl from a mile away!” Glen pipes up beside me.

  I hear a growl reverberate through Kingston, and I glance at him with a smirk as if to say - calm down.

  “I’m incredibly predictable.” I laugh it off with a shrug.

  “Oh. I wouldn’t pick you as predictable at all,” Glen coo’s back.

  Oh, please stop Glen.

  “All right buddy, enough with the flirty attempts at banter,” Kingston mutters, and strides to the bar.

  Glen and I share a moment of discomfort. I see Kingston ordering our drinks.

  “I should probably go and … yeah …”

  “It was nice meeting you, Mae.”

  “Yeah, you too.” I back away, giving Glen a slight wave.

  “Glenny boy all good?” Kingston asks when I take the seat beside him.

  I automatically roll my eyes and take a sip of my drink. “He’s great. I’m catching up with him later tonight!” I deadpan.

  Lies.

  He turns to me. “You’re what?”

  “Well you see, Kingston – fun story - I’m a twenty-seven year old woman who can make her own decisions and who doesn’t need protecting.”

  He eyes his drink as another deep grumble moves through him.

  “You barely know the guy.”

  “Yeah, and the only way to get to know people that you don’t know is to spend time with them,” I say. He’s staring at me, brow furrowed, and I can tell he doesn’t know what to say. Silence falls between us. “Your set was unreal, King. You were incredible up there.” I change the subject.

  “Thanks,” he says, a humble grin on his lips. “I’m working on my own music as well as the covers.” He drinks his beer.

  “It’s good seeing you,” I admit. “Sometimes you forget you miss someone until they’re right in front of you.”

  Holy crap - is that sober Mae talking or is that Mae who has had two drinks and thinks opening up her heart is a good idea?

  He must register my shock at my own confession. His mouth twitches in a small smirk. “I’ve missed you too, Mae.”

  Biting my lip, I swish the ice around my empty drink and stare at him. He clears his throat as his eyes move from my mouth and back up to my eyes. I blush, my body failing my attempt to appear calm and casual.

  “I’ll get another one, please,” I mutter when the barman clears my empty glass.

  “You hold your drink better now-a-days?” Kingston asks.

  “Oh! Absolutely not!” I declare, straight-faced.

  He shakes his head, chuckling at me. “I’m going to grab my guitar and help pack up the gear. What time you meeting back up with Glen?”

  “Glen?” I cock my head to the side. “Oh. Glen. Ahh - yeah. I probably won’t. I’m going to hang here. What about you?”

  “Yeah. I can hang.” He seems pleased in my change of mind toward ‘Glen The Stranger’.

  An hour later and I’m still on the dance floor. I catch eyes with Kingston who sits at a table talking to the manager of the bar, a stocky man with a hearty laugh. The man roars with laughter at something Kingston says and he focuses his attention back on him, giving me time to take him all in. Everything about him screams in control. As a kid when I envisioned our future, I imagined us growing up, him kissing my cheek, and having a family of four. I obviously never understood the concept of forming a family. But, here, in the middle of the dance floor looking at him, I can’t help considering everything it takes to build a family.

  Right now, particularly the sex.

  Before I can spiral any deeper into fantasies I shouldn’t be having, I feel hands on my hips. I pull away from them to reveal Glen, now looking incredibly drunk.

  “Mae!” he yells over the music.

  “Hey!” I step back.

  “You’re beautiful!”

  “Thanks.”

  “And nice. You are nice.”

  “You’re nice, too.”

  “I’ve been thinking about you in those jeans all night.”

  They are exceptionally nice jeans.

  I offer him a single nod and search for a way out. I glance over to where Kingston is sitting, I see him alone, with the manager gone. He’s on the edge of his seat, brow furrowed and eyes searing back into mine.

  “I’m going to get back to Kingston.” I motion to the table.

  “Stay.” He grabs my outstretched hand.

  I pull it from his. “No, thanks.”

  “Come on … ” he purrs, attempting to place his hands back onto my hips.

  I become worried at what Kingston will do. He’s standing now, but is still by the table.

  I pull my body from Glen’s hands. “Get off me.”

  “Whatever …” he stammers. “I could get better anyway.” His eyes roam up and down my body as he backs away into the group of people dancing.

  Ache hits me in my chest as I hear the words I’ve heard before from a man who was meant to love me.

  I find myself back at the table with Kingston.

  “You ok?” he asks. I don’t answer, still trying to collect my thoughts. He places his hands on my shoulders. “Mae?”

  “I’m fine. I’m fine.”

  I hear him mumble something about being out of control.

  “Control?” I ask.

  “What?” He guides me to the exit.

  “Nothing. Did you say control? I think that’s what I want for my next relationship. So many men in my life have had none. I think I want that.” I sit down on the bench outside in the cool night air.

  “Lack of control?” Kingston sits next to me, intrigue fills his eyes.

  “Yeah. Anger. Desire. They’ve lacked the ability to have any control over their impulses. All the things that make you question whether you know the person at all.” And I can tell it’s the alcohol talking right now. “Like, Glen, in there - he thought his ego got crushed - he let his cool guy persona go. Lost control.”

  Kingston watches me, taking in what I’ve said. “I called Loges after I saw you, to say hey and to tell him I ran into you. He said you’ve recently gone through a break up.”

  I smile at his attempt to be vulnerable with me. “Yeah. Dale. Four years. Engaged for three days. No self control.”

  “Cheating is cruel, Mae. I’m sorry.”

  “Mmmm.” I agree. “You know, on the day he told me about her, there was this tiny part of me that wasn’t sad.” I take a deep breath. “I haven’t told anyone this, I think I’m just acknowledging it myself, but there was a part of me that felt this huge sigh of relief. As if it knew he wasn’t the one for me. And then this other part of me was like a guttural animal. I put my heart and soul into that relationship and he so easily threw me aside.” I look down at a red scar, jagged up my forearm. “I literally tried to keep him in the house with me that day and he wasn’t having anything of it.”

  Kingston’s eyes take in the scar, his Adam’s apple bobbing as he swallows. He shifts his body on the bench beside me, trying to control his reaction. “Mae …” he warns.

  “Shit. Please don’t tell Logan.” I exhale sharply. “It’s not a big deal, King. It’s a simple cut. I used butterfly stitches and it's healed okay.”

  Fat tears blur my vision. “I was devastated that day. I was struggling, and he was trying to stop me from hugging him. I know it’s a pathetic excuse, but, I promise it was an accident. If it wasn’t, I would have gone to the police.” Kingston is stone-cold-quiet. “King,” I urge, getting his eyes to meet mine. Tears drop one by one. “Please don’t tell Logan. It won’t fix anything.”

  He doesn’t move for what feels like minutes, and then he slowly nods.


  “I won’t say anything.” He clears his throat. “But if I ever see that guy, Mae …”

  “I know,” I whisper. “Which is why you never will.”

  He places his hand over the scar on my arm and covers it. His big in control hand masks the jagged mess of my past so easily. His other hand reaches up to run a finger along my cheek, blocking tears from reaching my chin. The simple touch igniting my body.

  “Thank you for always looking out for me, King.” I lean into him. “I know I hated that you cared more about protecting me than you seemed to care about me. But I get it. Logan’s a good guy. He would have asked that of you.”

  I breathe in his scent, my face melts deeper into his t-shirt-covered-chest. I feel his chin on the crown of my head and feel him kiss my hair.

  It takes me back to my senior year of high school. I had come home from a party and locked myself out. Kingston had arrived home late, he’d been designated driver that night. His car had barely come to a stop and he was out, running across the lawn toward me on the front steps.

  What happened? He’d asked, as he crouched in front of me.

  Nothing. I locked myself out. He’d taken in my red eyes.

  Why are you crying? He’d moved to sit beside me - I remember because an electricity had pulsed through me.

  I want to get out of here, King. I want to go somewhere new, and meet new people, and learn about the world. I want to fall in love and feel good all the time and all that mushy stuff. He was silent for a while as he pulled me close to him. He smelt like aftershave and other people’s cigarettes.

  If you ever find that place, let me know. I’d like to go, too. And I remember being able to feel his smile against my forehead and thinking that this was the closest we’d ever been. The night sky was dark, the street lights felt dimmer than usual. My hands were clammy and I felt dumb and young with his smile on my skin.

  I tried to kiss him right there on the front porch steps of my parents house that night. An attempted kiss that was never reciprocated. An attempted kiss that probably changed a great deal of things for us.

  It’s a memory I’ve squashed so deep into the abyss of my embarrassment that remembering it now has me wondering whether it was just a dream.

  I pull out of Kingston’s arms and the look on his face gives me my answer - it wasn’t - he remembers it.

  I wipe the rest of the tears from my face and laugh to force the embarrassment away.

  “I haven’t been able to cry for a while now. Maybe you’re my good luck charm. Fate, huh?”

  Kingston sighs out an equally forced laugh. “Yeah. Fate.”

  CHAPTER three

  Waking up the next morning, I run over and over in my head the night before.

  After talking to Kingston about Dale and both of us ignoring the memory of our past, he walked me back to the motel. Halting in the doorway to my room, he looked at me for the longest time. A look he’s never given me before. At the time I thought maybe he was going to kiss me. I quickly allowed myself to imagine being the one to glance away this time, casually decline the intimate moment with a sense of disinterest like he had so long ago. Looking back now, I wonder if he was simply feeling sorry for me.

  My cell vibrates beside me.

  “Good morning, Loges,” I answer.

  “You didn’t call me back last night.”

  “I’m amazed the whole state of Idaho isn't out looking for me.”

  “Nah. King told me you were going to watch him play and I figured you’d be safe with him.”

  “I’d also be safe without him, but we’ll save that conversation for a rainy day,” I mumble into my pillow. “You promise me that you didn’t set this thing with Kingston up? It just seems strange, is all.”

  “No, Mae, I didn’t. Plus he already had these gigs set up.”

  “Yeah. I guess.”

  “How was he last night? Ladies man?”

  “He was great! Everyone was swooning.”

  “Classic Kingston. They can’t help themselves with him.”

  “Mmmm …” Is all I can manage to sound out.

  “I’m glad you were never like that with him. He’s a great guy. But, still ...”

  “Yeah, good lord if we ever did fuck,” I bluntly state.

  “Mae!”

  “What?”

  “Seriously?”

  “Oh get off it, Logan. Plus, how many times do I have to remind you that I’m a grown woman who can make her own decisions!”

  “Did he hit on you?”

  “No. Damn it, Logan. You can never hear me, can you? You’re too busy trying to save me from absolutely everything! Where were you to save me from Dale, huh? You weren’t there then. Fact is, you don’t care if I’m happy or not. All you care about is that you’re standing guard. I get it. You love me. I love you, too. Mum and Dad weren’t around much when we were kids and Mum’s gone and Dad’s still not around. I get that. But you’re going to have to give me a break. You’re going to have to let me be my own person who can look after herself.”

  “Does this have to do with Kingston?”

  Squeezing my pillow, I plant my face into it and scream.

  “You know what?” I lift my face from the pillow. “Don’t call me. Until I get to Maine … do not call me. And if you and Kingston somehow organized me running into him in Spokane, then he can fuck off also.”

  “Mae - ”

  I hang up.

  We barely fight and this feels bad. More mess to add to the pile of shit that is currently my life.

  I’m showered and putting on my shoes ready to head out for coffee when there’s a knock at my door. I open it to find Kingston leaning against the doorframe.

  “Did you tell your brother I was hitting on you last night?”

  “No!” He raises an eyebrow at me. “You know him. He’s a ball of crazy madness! He was going on and on about how he’s so glad he doesn’t have to worry about you and me, and I said something along the lines of being saved if we ever did …” I motion around me with my arms like a clumsy baby bird.

  “… fuck?” He finishes the sentence for me, looking dumbfounded. “Because those are the words I gathered from the long lecture I just received.” His eyes sparkle with humor.

  I grin at him. “Very sorry.”

  Not really.

  “You said that?” he confirms. “To your brother?”

  “Ha. Yeah. We aren’t talking until I get back to Maine. He needs to get his shit together.”

  “No wonder he seemed worked up.”

  “What exactly did he say?” I cringe.

  “Most of it was incoherent mumble, and also that I better not touch you and something about my balls.”

  “Ahhh, yes. Sounds about right.”

  “I’m glad you think this is funny, Miss Walker.”

  “Oh, it’s hilarious. My brother is hilarious.” I drawl sarcastically.

  ◆◆◆

  “So where to next?” I ask as I sip my coffee at one of the local coffee shops, trying to dull out the memory of Kingston staring at me and saying fuck.

  “Missoula. Straight through Lolo National Forest to Montana.” He celebrates with a big gulp of his own coffee.

  “Sounds good. Mind if I tag along?” I ask rather sheepishly.

  I wonder if he thought about us fucking when talking about us not fucking?

  I really need to stop thinking in general.

  “Of course. I’d love it if you would. That’s actually where things get awkward.” He looks at me pointedly. “I’m stuck without you now …”

  Fuck. “Stuck? How?” I ask.

  “I took my bike to the shop this morning. It’s been playing up on me. It’s the motor, but no one can work it out. I need to hitch a ride with you. It doesn’t have to be all the way to Maine. Missoula would be good and I could find my way from there.”

  “Well, well, well Kingston James needs my help for once. Why I never thought I’d see the day.” I wink at him over my drink. And then i
nwardly cringe at doing so. “Missoula sounds great and we’ll work it out from there,” I say much too quickly, trying to dispel the winking awkwardness.

  ◆◆◆

  Kingston's tapping his fingers on his knees and looking out the passenger window. He sings along quietly to the radio. I glance at him and wonder about the years that were lost between us. I wonder if he's had his heart broken and how many he's broken himself. I recall articles on him over the years, beautiful women by his side. I remember wondering how it would feel to have his arm around my waist, to have his hands on me and not just to comfort me.

  And then I remember chastising myself, because pining after someone who had straight out turned you down was plain sad.

  I glance back to him as he shifts forward and turns the music down.

  “You okay?” he asks.

  I nod. “Yeah. Thinking is all.”

  “About Dale?”

  His question catches me off guard, and he must notice. “Fuck. I just made you think of him.”

  “It's fine. It was nice not to though.” I glance at him again, feeling vulnerable about what I’m about to share. “I've been thinking about what I told you, about that little part of me that knew deep down he wasn’t right for me.” My breath hitches. “That small sigh of relief in the back of my mind … maybe that was the truth. And me trying to hang onto him and what we had, that was purely instinct. A habit you get from having your heart broken.”

  I can tell by the way his bottom lip juts out that he's mulling over my thoughts I’ve rattled out loud.

  “Ignore me!” I pipe up. “I'm probably babbling.”

  “No! You're not. You’re right. I think there's always an instinct to fight for a relationship when it’s ending. And sometimes you don't even know why you're fighting for it – it just feels like that's what you're meant to do.” He huffs out a small laugh. “I’ve had messy endings with women. Ones I thought should have been love, but I could never shake the feeling - the sigh of relief like you say - that they weren’t the one, but maybe I should have tried to make it work.”

  “I get that.”

  Looking out at the forest that looms on either side of us, making our existence seem so small, I can't help but think of the possibility of a forever person out there for me.

 

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