by Zee Irwin
I didn’t know how to respond. I took the mug and drank down the coffee at the window while watching the crew outside.
The guys had given up on the fight and made angels in the snow. The three sisters skated on the ice of the patio as if it were a rink. Emily slid down the ice like a white swan on glassed water, and Bella followed, stumbling over chipped ice.
And there was Cassidy, twirling in the middle like the world revolved around her because it did. As a glorious sight for my eyes, awakening my sleepy heart and soul, she embodied the center of my universe gone missing all this time. And fuck me. I finally had to accept the truth of what was going on here. So much for only wanting closure. I wanted her back.
13
The Man Cave
Cassidy
I pulled open the door to the garage from the kitchen. Dad had long ago taken it over as his man cave, leaving my mother’s car resting outside under a makeshift carport canopy. Mom teased him about it, but I knew she supported Dad’s mechanical hobbies by giving up the garage.
“Is it safe to enter?” I froze at the top of the stairs. Before me I beheld a scene straight out of the past. My eyes immediately spotted Bronson, bent over the engine of the ’68 Mustang. He still looked damn good from behind in his Levi’s with a red towel hanging out of one back pocket.
Back then, Bronson had instantly bonded with my dad, and working on the old Mustang while hanging out together had become a regular occurrence in our dating life. Just me, Bronson, and my dad. Mom confided in me once about how Dad believed Bronson was the son he never had. Or maybe it was more like a bromance? It was a tie between my dad and me, who was the most heartbroken when Bronson broke up with me.
My eyes didn’t move from Bronson’s ass, and I almost tripped on the stairs, making one of my famous grand entrances. Thanks to a nervous laugh-snort escaping me, my awkwardness in this situation was a dead giveaway. Hank rushed over to help me with a perpetual goofy smile plastered on his face, like every other time I appeared in front of him. Tony and Bronson remained with their noses under the hood, taking more interest in solving some unknown mechanical mystery than in acknowledging my entrance.
Dad looked irritated. I’d interrupted his male bonding time. It was no secret in our family how he longed for the day when his three girls would have fellows he could bond with over sports, beers, and classic cars. He wiped his hands on a towel. “Will you grab us some sodas?”
I smiled, recalling the Christmas when my mom bought him his own mini-fridge so he could keep his greasy hands in the cave instead of mucking up her kitchen for a soda.
I took out the bottles, three colas, a grape, and an orange, then looked around for the bottle opener. Not in the drawer, not on the workbench, not under the pile of grease-stained rags . . . Then a muscular arm entered my view, angling around me, and pulled off the bottle opener from a hook on the side of the mini-fridge. Bronson stood super close. His manly scent wafted into my nose. And his breath, with a familiar hint of Big Red gum, grazed across my neck when he said, “Looking for this?”
He held the opener in front of me, and I turned toward him. The feel of him so near irritatingly set me on fire. For a brief count of one-Mississippi feeling like an eternity, our eyes locked, and our souls said, Oh. Hello again. His fingers brushing across my palm when he made the exchange of the opener from his hand to mine sent my heart racing at a pace I couldn’t keep up with. And then he left, back to the Mustang, the trail of his presence smoldering all around me.
I leaned against the edge of the workbench as a crutch. Freaking hell, could I catch my breath already? The Ford Mustang horse emblem bottle opener Bronson gave Dad our first and only Christmas together stared at me from the palm of my hand. It dared me to wrap my hand around the cold steel in my grasp because my body burned on fire.
The situation worsened by recalling that Christmas, when Bronson had been all mine. His gift to me of love, a pure first love. And now, experiencing all the other Christmases without our love was the most horrible joke of all. I attempted all sorts of distractions each holiday to forget the unsatisfied ache in my soul. But how could I find another man, someone like Bronson, to fill the void he left behind? I’d asked myself that same question repeatedly, arriving at the same answer every year; it was impossible. I gave up.
I popped off the bottle caps and hid the opener in a drawer where I wouldn’t face the torture of its memory again.
I delivered Bronson’s bottle last. He smiled after tasting a big gulp of the grape soda. “You remembered my favorite.”
I did. Most things about us I had never forgotten, but I wouldn’t admit it. I moved away to the other side of the garage, away from him, forcing my fluttering stomach and shaking hands to focus on the basics. Put the bottle to your lips. Take a drink. Swallow. Put it down . . . Be strong.
We all found a wall or a workbench to lean against and drank our sodas in silence, not looking at each other because the elephant in the room was too big. I almost left.
Dad chugged the rest of his soda. “You know what would be swell with these? Brownies. Let’s go make some.”
I rolled my eyes because Dad couldn’t be more transparent. Living with four women in the house, brownies had been his excuse as a man to get out of tough conversations for as long as I remembered. First menstruation? Brownies. First date? Brownies. First guy to break your heart? Brownies, plus his oversized, bear-like shoulder to cry on. My sisters and I lucked out in the dad department.
Tony followed Dad into the house, then came back and grabbed Hank, who hadn’t gotten the hint. They left me and Bronson. Alone. In the man cave. In front of the Mustang. When we had the old Mustang, Bronson and I would sneak into the backseat to make out sometimes. I’d bet the new Mustang’s backseat would be as comfortable with Bronson. Oh God, the entire garage had nothing but wonderful memories of him.
I should suggest a neutral location to talk with Bronson, because this garage had Fate written all over it.
“Go for a walk with me?” I suggested. At thirty degrees outside with snow on the ground, I couldn’t think of another place where memories didn’t exist.
14
Neutral Location
Bronson
This morning the sun shone brightly in a blue sky with amnesia for the storm from yesterday. It glistened on the snow-covered tree limbs, making quick work out of melting the snow away, bringing back proper balance to the weather on Cape Cod.
It was still cold outside, and the crisp air served as a sharp reminder to my heart and body to stay out of this conversation so my brain could do all the talking.
I followed Cassidy in search of privacy, our options limited to the beach, street, or house. Two of those held too many memories for me, an enormous distraction from the conversation I needed to have with her.
We strolled along on the sidewalk, slowly picking our way around icy spots. Calling forth anything as a good opening proved tricky now, being next to her. The light from the sun glittered in the snow like a photo filter illuminating her face. My throat almost clenched, and I spat out the first thing I could think of.
“So, how’s it been, working in the marketing department?” That was a good opening. It kept things professional to start. Shit, why was I so nervous about this?
She appeared relieved for the opening. “I’ve learned so much. It’s been a wonderful experience. I like my coworkers. Matilda is—interesting for a boss.”
Matilda. I flinched. She was a problem I would have to deal with, but first things first with Cassidy. “Do you mind telling me why you’re working at Chick In Bun? Considering the way we left things between us back then, I would think it would be the last place you’d want to work.” As the youngest CEO of a major corporation, I’d faced insane professional challenges rising through the ranks every day. Yet standing in front of Cassidy proved more intense than it should be, my hands sweated worse than when I gave my first presentation to the board of directors.
She chewed her che
ek before answering, looking nervous herself. “Believe me, I didn’t intend to work there at first. I went on interview after interview all over the city while waitressing, but people kept telling me I didn’t have enough experience. I almost gave up until this job came along.”
“What if my parents or Kelly had seen you? Without me there protecting you, I don’t know what they might have done. And now they know you’re there.”
“I don’t need protection. Besides, I figured it was a big enough company where I could fly under the radar long enough to gain experience. Let me guess. They want me fired?”
I didn’t want to worry her about it. No matter what happened between us, I would protect her like I had an innate watchdog, only for her. “For what it’s worth, I don’t have a problem with you working there. As long as you do your job and you’re not uncomfortable about us, or with me being around, I’ll do what I can for you. I could plan for you to move into another department until the marketing launch is over. If you want.”
“No. I’ve worked hard to be where I am, and I don’t deserve to be moved.” She placed a hand on my arm and stopped walking. Even through my coat sleeve the energy hummed between us. “Bronson, can we stop doing this, putting off what needs to be said? I’m tired. I didn’t sleep well last night. It’s cold out here, and I’d like to get back into the house.”
Did she think she was the only one experiencing difficulty processing things right now? “Yeah, well, it’s been a taxing couple of days for me, too. I didn’t expect to come back to Boston and run into my ex.”
“Ouch. That hurts, but I guess I’m not surprised.”
“What do you mean?”
“It’s too bad things had to end the way they did, is all. We could have ended as friends, at least.”
“What do you expect me to say to that, Cass?” This conversation didn’t go the way I expected. Not at all.
She backed up, shock registering on her face. “I don’t know, Bronson. You’re the one dredging up the past. Oh, let’s see, maybe you could start with all the things you forgot to say when you left for Europe? You gave me a simple ‘We’re done. I’m leaving. Goodbye.’ A little more discussion might have been nice.”
My breath puffed out in a cloud. “I was an ass back then, okay? There, I admit it. I shouldn’t have treated you the way I did. But you know how my parents had wormed their way into my life. Which is no excuse because as much as I want to blame them—I was the one who let them take control of my life. They didn’t force me to work in London. I willingly went, too broken to fight for myself.”
I dared tread the blue of her eyes, which were wet, but probably from the cold air hitting them. Or maybe I took it as a good sign she showed a vulnerable side right now. Someone like my dad might see this as weak, diving deeper and matching her level of openness, but I had to go there and lay everything out on the table.
Her lips were trembling, reaching for something to say, but I couldn’t let her speak yet.
“Look. Don’t interrupt me, okay? I need to get some things off my chest.” I brought my hands to my mouth and blew into them, then shoved them into my pockets as I plunged ahead, letting it all out in a rush.
“I should have told everyone the truth about the accident, about how it was me behind the wheel, drunk while driving. Letting you shoulder it all was a shitty thing for me to do. But I was so stunned then pissed when I woke up in the hospital a few days later and found out you told everyone it was you behind the wheel and not me. I couldn’t believe you did that for me. And the longer I let people believe you were at fault, the harder it was for my pride to admit what I’d done.”
“It was no big deal—”
“It was a big deal to me, Cassidy. I fucked up. My entire world crumbled around me, between the surgeries on my hand, therapy, the end of my baseball career, and the constant pressure from my parents. They wouldn’t let us spend time together at the hospital, if you recall.”
“I tried to see you every day.” She swiped at a tear.
“I know, baby. You were there for me, the best girlfriend, as always. You were so patient with me.” I sure as hell didn’t mean for this conversation to get so emotional, but it did. “And when we had time together, I was horrible to you. It was like the more my guilt grew, the madder I got, and the more we argued, the more it made me want to push you away. I’m surprised you didn’t break up with me.”
I took a deep breath, waiting to see how she reacted.
She stared down at the snow, digging in it with the toe of her shoe. “We were young, and it was a messed up situation for us both. It wasn’t fair, but it happened.”
“Maybe so, but also . . . I’m sorry.”
Her head popped up. “Say again?”
I chuckled. “I’m sorry, Cassidy. There were many things I said and did toward the end. I wish I could take it all back.”
Her face right now—this was what I hoped for, the satisfaction of knowing she understood my heart after all this time. “It means a lot to me, Bronson, hearing you say all of this.”
“And, by the way, I also told my dad the truth yesterday. I stood up to him.”
My parents’ dislike for Cassidy had been the major sticking point of our relationship. They were asshole snobs who thought she would never be good enough for me, but in truth, I had to work hard to be good enough for her. She did nothing to deserve their hate while we were dating, but their hate sure grew after the accident. They still pissed me off for their pretentious ways, and, well, for everything.
Her eyes doubled in size. “Really? Bronson, that’s huge. I told my family the truth a few years ago, too.”
“Shit. Your dad must think I’m a fuckup for not owning up back then. I’m surprised he let me crash here last night.”
“Are you kidding? He understands how things were for us back then. Besides, you hung the moon for my dad.” We both chuckled knowing it for the truth.
A lighter mood and spirit came over me, like I had a fifty-pound dumbbell removed from my chest. Years of agonizing over the way we’d left things, now gone. Closure was good and it was better than any therapy. And fuck, I wanted to reach for her. I wanted reassurances from her for what? That we’d be friends? What was possible at this point?
“Thanks, Bronson, for admitting all of this. It helps.” Her eyes softened.
My need for holding her became unbearable. I reached my hands out across the three feet between us, but she stiffened and turned to walk back home.
“We should get back. But I’m glad we talked.”
I should feel more pleased, shouldn’t I? Didn’t I get everything off my chest?
By the time we arrived back at the house, I understood. I wanted the world to stop and to go another round with Cassidy. If we walked around the block in a counterclockwise motion, could we push time back for a do-over?
Hank and Emily had finished shoveling the snow from the walkway to the house. Then he proved the immature kid he still was by throwing snow in Emily’s face. She screamed and chased him around the side of the house.
I shook my head because he would never learn. “Nice way to impress Emily, dickhead.”
Tony leaned against the car. “Dude, we need to get back. Mama Amato has been texting us like crazy, wondering where we are.”
Hank reentered the picture and grabbed Cassidy up, twirling her around with her feet off the ground. Her shrieks and chuckles put joy in the air. For one moment, she looked happy. He did that for her, gave her a happy moment, while a sharp pang swept through me, wishing I’d put a smile on her face.
“I’ll text you,” Hank said with a wink.
My voice came out sounding aggravated as hell. “All right, break it up already. Let’s go, asshat.” Hank and Tony got into the car when Sam and Nancy came out of the house.
I inspected the contents of the brown bag Nancy handed me. “Warm blueberry muffins for the trip home, dear.” She kissed my cheek. “And thank you for playing with my husband today. It’s rare
he gets to spend time with actual men in his man cave.”
I shook hands with Sam, but we exchanged no words. One look at him told me he choked up, and I could easily join him in tears, too. Was this it? Was I never going to see Sam, Cassidy, or any of them again? Sam pulled me in for a brief man-hug with a slap on the back. His husky arms wrapped around me like a weighted blanket, pulled into his chest and protected from the world. I sensed he wanted to say something like, Love you, man. Come over some time to help me with the Mustang. But would it be too awkward for his daughter to have her ex remain best buddies with her dad?
I couldn’t remember the last time my dad had hugged me, so I stayed in Sam’s hug until Nancy pulled him away. I hoped Sam wouldn’t be an emotional wreck after this, and I hoped I wouldn’t either.
Cassidy followed me down the sidewalk to the waiting car. “I’m sorry we crashed here last night, but I enjoyed today. Being here with you and your family—I miss this. Is there any chance for us to try again?”
“Oh,” she said. She looked at the ground. She looked at the neighbor’s house. Anywhere but at me.
It was total agony waiting for her answer, willing her to say Yes instead of Hard pass as she wavered in the middle like riding on the top of a fence. Which side would she jump to? If she was on Team Bronson, could I handle loving her again? Absolutely. Could I handle feeling her body wrapped with mine again? Hell yes, I could. Would I break her heart again? No fucking way. Given the chance, I’d go to the ends of the earth to keep her mine forever this time.
She finally chose a side. Team Cassidy. “Bronson, I think it’s best if we keep things professional between us. See you at the office, okay?”
It wasn’t the side of the fence I expected her to land on. She let me down easily from the tone of her voice, but I swear I saw a shadow of hurt still in her eyes. Maybe I deserved that from her. Then again, maybe I didn’t.