by Mel Walker
Jackson
I take a small step away from Ryan, who is focusing on counting plates. Aaron is smart enough to keep Ryan in his comfort zone. Aaron follows my lead as we step into the pantry.
Aaron is good, but curiosity has been burning in me ever since he asked his pointed question. I paid a lot of money to bury the incident and in particular that video. Then it hits me. As part of my hiatus, I cut back on my PR and agent budget. The salary at a cafe pales in comparison to owning a restaurant. I cut many of my monthly fees including the massive one feeding the Google beast to suppress certain content.
“So, you know,” I begin.
Aaron nods. “It took a little bit of digging. I guess you had some good people try to bury the video, but you know the internet, nothing every truly goes away.”
I think back to the last of my money being spent on attempting to remove all the videos. It was pointless. By the time sites had gotten around to complying with the cease and desist orders, it popped up elsewhere. As much as I chased after them, my spiral of money evaporated. Over time the video and articles will once again gain traction. I’ve lost the game of whack-a-mole, the internet once again remaining undefeated.
Aaron furrows his brow as he leans in. “So you understand my concern. You. Dana. Tyrone. History. Need I say more?”
I shake my head. “I get the concern, Aaron. I wouldn’t do anything to mess up this week for Dana. I care for her.”
Aaron squints. “Well, I assumed you cared about yourself and your restaurant too. I get it, it was in the heat of the moment. All I’m saying is you now have the advantage of seeing it coming. Don’t react no matter what. Cool?”
I find myself nodding. In that fit of anger, I lost the restaurant. Four different lawsuits by customers, the health department shutting it down for violations, a food blog from hell, and a criminal lawsuit which I had to plea down to accidental food poisoning. I got off without any jail time or community service if I remain incident free for twelve months.
I hold up my bandaged hand. “I could take him with one hand, but I won’t, Aaron. You have nothing to worry about.”
I grab the jar of chocolate melts and almonds as we head back into the kitchen. “However, if he has an undisclosed nut allergy…”
Aaron snatches the almonds from my arms. “I’ll take that. Head to the prep table. I got the stove, but I’ve got my eyes on you.”
“Yes, Mom,” I laugh as we enter the kitchen. Dana is standing in the doorway looking lost.
“Everything okay?” I ask, approaching her as Aaron heads toward the stove.
We step just through the doorway to the hall.
“I just wanted to keep you updated,” she begins. Her good hand plays with the ends of her twist, my eyes drawn to the movement. “No luck finding the car keys. He’s having his spare FedExed here for tomorrow morning. I’m sorry—”
I cut her off. “It’s not for you to apologize. This is on him, not you.”
The tight corners of her eyes relax for a bit as her gaze softens. “Still… I know this must be uncomfortable.”
My finger finds its way to her chin and I lift it up, forcing her to stare directly into my eyes. “Not nearly as uncomfortable as it must be for you. As if you didn’t have enough on your mind. Listen, Ryan has joined us in the kitchen, so don’t worry about a thing here. And as for your ex, just hand him a sleeping bag and let him sleep in the car and all will be good.”
My joke lands well as her beautiful mouth curls up into a smile.
“And since he doesn’t have his keys, he’ll need to leave it unlocked with the window cracked. I think I saw some coyotes, raccoons, and skunks out there last night. I slipped some smelly treats under his car seat. I’m sure he’ll be fine.”
“Wow, I never knew you had a dark side, Jackson. I guess all I’ve seen is the sweet, calm cafe man.”
I freeze as the words hit me. Yet another opportunity for me to come clean.
“I’m digging it,” she adds as my shoulders relax. Her relief is short-lived as I notice her stiffen and glance at her watch. “There is one other thing, and you’re not going to like this one at all.”
She has my complete attention. “Shoot. I’m all ears.”
“Tyrone is going to be staying for dinner.”
“I kind of figured. I’ll set out a plate on the back porch next to the saucer of milk we put out for the feral cats.”
This joke doesn’t land as well as Dana’s face remains conflicted. “And… he is staying over the night at the lodge, and we are out of rooms.”
“The car, seriously,” I say this time with an urgency that wasn’t there a minute ago, not liking where this is going.
“We checked all of the nearby hotels; they’re all full. I can’t have him sleeping in any of the common areas. The girls rise early in the morning for sunrise yoga. That left only two places: the offices, which aren’t fit for humans, or…” She suddenly becomes bashful and stares down to the floor.
“Or, what?” My finger lifts her chin yet again. “What are you afraid to say?”
“Or… my room.” She completes the sentence, and my heart stops. She must read the expression on my face as her good hand grabs my bicep. “Not like that, Jackson. Oh my god, never.” Once I regain my ability to breathe, she snickers. “What I meant is Carrie, my roommate, has been hooking up with Sanjeev and most likely won’t have an issue if I ask her to stay out of the room tonight.”
My pulse is still racing as I picture the two of them in that small room. The twin beds less than three feet between them. I don’t trust Tyrone to be that close to her without… My mind can’t unwrap itself to even complete the thought. What makes her think this is good idea?
“I was wondering…”
I recall her words, you won’t like it, and I put it together. She wants me to share a room with her ex as she takes my room. “No.” I have a Meatloaf moment. “Dana, I will do anything for you, but I won’t do that. I won’t share a room with your ex. Hell, I’ll sleep in his car before I’d do that.”
She steps back as her voice lifts an octave. “I would never have you do that; I don’t want to wake tomorrow to find a dead body on the floor. No, Jackson, what I’m asking is if I can stay in your room with you tonight? Ty can take my room.”
I’m nodding before my mouth can react. “Yes. Yes. Move in please.” My heart races and my mind sprints to all the places a healthy man’s mind should go. “Stay for the rest of week, stay for the rest of our lives.” I can’t believe these words escape my mouth as Dana’s eyes go wide.
“Easy, cowboy. Let’s start with tonight.” She leans in, and I hug her. “What a week.” She is warm as my hand slides to her lower back. I look down as the move causes her to close her eyes, a moment of peace in this shitstorm of a week. “I can’t wait for him to be gone tomorrow. For this week to end. And for you and me to sit down and have a really serious talk about our future.”
I think about her last line—future. At the end of the week, I’m hopping on a plane, and if things go well, my future might be a thousand miles away. Dana has just opened up to me, shared her fears, has trusted me enough to spend the night in my room. I can feel it in my bones, those videos propagating across the internet as we stand here.
I know I should reciprocate, but right now, all I want to do is enjoy this moment of peace with her in my arms and not think about the future.
All I want to do is think about tonight. Her in my room, in my arms, in my bed.
Tomorrow can wait.
Chapter Twenty-Seven
Dana
I push up from the bench and whisper to Candice, who is digging into her dinner as if she hasn’t eaten in a month. “Two-hour workshops leave you famished, right?” I joke as she waves a forkful of pasta at me. “I’ll be back in a few; I have to check on a few things.”
I scan the dining room, all the students engrossed in their meals or conversations. Any concerns I may have had about dinner evaporated the momen
t I bit into the first dish. Aaron has proven successful as head chef, and Jackson seemed surprisingly pleased to take a back seat for a night.
It feels good to have someone else have your back for a change, allowing you to appreciate and observe from the wings. I nod toward Candice, appreciative of the moment.
Something as simple as Candice running one of the workshops had lifted a burden for a bit, and I can feel my store of reserves are not nearly as depleted as they had been all week. I’m sure Jackson is probably feeling the same way.
My wicked mind conjures up all sorts of ways we both can expend that extra energy as we are scheduled to share a bed tonight. Although we technically did so last evening, it was different, more like friends falling to sleep on the couch together. Tonight will be different. Even without talking about it with him, I know expectations are different, his Freudian slip of inviting me to stay with him forever crystal clear in his intentions.
I grab a small plate and scan the dessert bar. Ever since Jackson outed the girls for having a sweet tooth, he’s outdone himself. I grab a slice of strawberry cheesecake, a fruit medley, and rum raisin ice cream and head into the lodge.
I tap on the door lightly and push it open. Tyrone is sitting in the high-back chair in the office, his feet crossed up on the desk and a plate in his lap.
“Take your feet down. Didn’t your mom teach you any manners?”
He lowers them slowly as he balances his plate. “Didn’t your mom teach you that if you have dinner guests you don’t stick them in cramped room to eat by themselves?”
I slide the dessert treats onto the desktop. “My mom said if people are rude enough to land on your front door uninvited that you do your best but don’t feel obligated to change your plans.” I stick out my tongue at him, an old habit from our past.
His smile leaps across the room, causing me to pause. “Are you looking for something to do with that tongue?” I recognize his response immediately, a rejoinder from our past. I had forgotten it; he hadn’t, either.
The quiet of the lodge, the small confines of the office unsettles me. I lose track and my eyes drift down to the food. “I brought you dessert.
He hops from the chair. “Hey. Hey…” His voice softens as his movement stops well outside my comfort zone. “I didn’t mean anything by that, D. I just thought…”
We are both in unfamiliar territory. A long history filled with memories, most of them good, habits ingrained into us. We’re both walking across a minefield hoping for the best. “I know,” I start. His hazel eyes flash with a look hurt, “I should have never…”
“Don’t.” The force of his voice forces me to stare up at him. “Don’t ever do that, D. Don’t apologize for our past, for us. What we had, regardless of what may happen, existed. I loved us, D. This history, these memories I don’t have with anyone else. And I won’t. And I’m okay with that. Because what we had…”
I raise a hand. “Ty, let’s not.”
“Let’s not what, D?” He shifts back behind the desk, his long sinewy legs only needed two steps to eat up the distance. He points to the ice cream. “Look at this. Rum raisin ice cream. Who else but you would know that? Would care enough.”
I nod. I had been surprised that Mrs. Shaw even stocked Rum Raisin ice cream. I had never seen it in Indiana, not even at the thirty-one flavors Baskin Robbins. It had remained in the freezer all week until tonight, and I’d asked Ryan to add it to the ice cream bar. Tyrone’s favorite flavor. “Let’s not read too much into it. I would have done the same with cherry vanilla if Ebony was here.”
With the mention of my sister’s name, Ty’s face lights up. Once again, a shared history allowing us to speak in shorthand. “With rainbow sprinkles,” he says. “She misses you nearly as much as I do.”
Guilt is laid on me once again, my escape to Indiana a one-way ride. Every time my resolve weakens, a talk with Mom reinforces that it was the right decision.
“I know you’re thinking about Mom,” Ty challenges. I forgot how much of an open book I am to him. “She only wants the best for you, but I won’t jump into the fray there. I don’t want to be skewered.”
He’s wise to back away. My relationship with Mom is filled with so many hot buttons that I run hot and cold from moment to moment just thinking about her.
“Regardless, it shouldn’t mean you don’t stay on top of your little sister. You know she’s a little stubborn. She’s hanging with a guy who I know big sister won’t approve of.”
My first instinct is to not believe him. He’s always had the ability to use my good nature and concern for others to his advantage. Is he now using our history and my concern for my sister to get closer to me again?
He lets his spoon dangle from his lower lip as he plants the next breadcrumb for me to follow. “She’s been spending time on South Street and not the good part.”
His words are like tossing an anchor. Even if I don’t believe him, I come to a full stop. He knows where my head will race—to the worst part of South Street where motorcycle clubs and drug dealers hang out. She’s only nineteen and shouldn’t be anywhere near that scene.
Why hadn’t I pushed through her anger? She was pissed when I left. Even though I’ve reached out to her by every method known to mankind, we have drifted. Ebony doesn’t talk on the phone, provides one-syllable responses to emails, and while she will post ten-minute videos about her hair and nails, she replies in GIFs and emojis to my DMs. Still, I should have tried harder. I’m the older sister.
“Is there anything you want me to tell her? We occasionally still cross paths.”
I don’t want to know, so I don’t ask, knowing where their paths would cross—at the club. I shake my head.
“Naw, I’m good,” I say, hoping to change topics. I don’t need this man who is already too ingrained in my family to feel like I need him. Once I get back to Destiny Falls after this week is finally over, I’ll invite her out to Indiana. I’ve put it off because, well, I had purposely tried to separate my two worlds. I guess I should thank Ty for breaking through. He’s seen my world, or at least a part of it, and my friends have met him, and my world didn’t implode. Not yet.
Yet, I still have him locked away in this closet of a room, still trying to keep my worlds separate.
“I’ll connect with her. Appreciate the heads-up.” I step toward the door, and he matches my step. “Enjoy the ice cream. When you finish, you can grab your stuff from the car and get situated up in the room.” I’d already explained the sleeping arrangements. And though he wasn’t thrilled with me moving out the room, he understood. I didn’t explicitly tell him I’d be in Jackson’s room, leaving a very deliberate impression that I was crashing with another retreat attendee. I didn’t want to see that look on his face or get into that discussion with him.
“It’s barely seven thirty. Do you expect me to hide away in here and the room all night?”
I so wanted to say beggars can’t be choosy, but he did pull my coat on my sister. “Feel free to join us at eight thirty. Some of the students from the college are dropping in to perform for us. I think it’s all Broadway musicals.” I laugh and exit the office, our shared history still an advantage.
Tyrone hates musicals.
Chapter Twenty-Eight
Jackson
“Mission accomplished,” I mention, and slip onto the bench in the last row on the deck. Dana turns toward me as if I’ve hung the moon with a smile nearly as bright.
“You are amazing,” she whispers as her gaze takes in the back of over two dozen heads.
At the front of the rows of benches are Sydney and five of her classmates. They call themselves the Not So Spicy Girls and have been going through a medley of show tunes with an enthusiasm that more than makes up for their lack of rehearsal time. Everyone appears engrossed.
Almost everyone.
Every few moments, I feel his presence. Tyrone on the upper deck, not a fan of musicals, yet feeling obligated to check in on Dana and me every few min
utes. I don’t think Dana is aware, but since I’m that guy, every time I suspect he’s looking down at us, I lean into Dana, pull her toward me, nibble on her ear, and hope he’s boiling so hot that he’ll explode.
“I rounded up five sleeping bags.” After dinner cleanup, Aaron mentioned he was going back with Ryan and Candice to her cabin on the other side of the lake. He looked drained after running his first dinner shift and wanted to avoid the bundle of energy that Sydney is. It’s a good call, and I’m thankful that my energy stores are high, otherwise I’d be in the same situation.
With him gone for the evening, we had a room open. Dana offered to take it, but I nixed that idea immediately when I reminded her that Sydney wanted to stay over as well. Hence the sleeping bags—instant slumber party room. I feel sorry for everyone in that wing of the lodge.
“Thank you.” She leans in and places a soft kiss on my cheek. “And this is for setting up the s’mores station with only one hand.” She kisses me again, and I am shocked that she can’t hear over the off-key wailing of “Everything is Coming Up Roses” Tyrone’s temper tantrum in the form of stomping feet above us.
I suspect this is the opposite of what Tyrone had imagined tonight would look like when he lost his keys. I push up, pulling Dana with me.
‘I hope you don’t mind, but a few of the ladies noticed Tyrone and asked about him.” I can’t stop the smirk from appearing on my face.
She whips her head toward me, a gleam of humor fills her eyes. “And what pray tell did you tell them?”
She’s a quick study, already expecting the worst, and I don’t disappoint. “I told them he’s a wildlife urine collector out here on special assignment.”
“You did not?” Her response is better than I anticipated.
“Hells yeah.” I nod. “After that I didn’t even have to tell the girls to keep their distance. Haven’t you noticed them making themselves scarce anytime he’s anywhere near?”