Truly, Madly, Whiskey

by Melissa Foster

  “What did you have in mind when you asked me to come here? A little no-pants dance in the grass?”

  She laughed, and he pulled her against him, gazing into her eyes. She expected to see heat, to have to fend him off so they could talk, but she couldn’t have been more wrong.

  BEAR TRIED TO keep things light and not let on about the worry mounting inside him. But he couldn’t stop thinking about her short-notice visit in the medical building, and he was curious about her friend David. How many times had his brother Bones, an oncologist, told him that a person’s health could change on a dime? Their father’s stroke had given him proof enough. Now, as he gazed into Crystal’s eyes, the spark of snark that usually glimmered back at him was dulled by worry, and that concerned him.

  He touched his forehead to hers and his facade fell away. “I don’t want to joke around. Let me in, baby. Let me help with whatever’s stolen that spark from your beautiful eyes.”

  “Bear,” she whispered.

  In his name he heard a plea and a warning. He wanted to hand over the reins, let her lead, but he sensed that she was having trouble with that. “Tell me what you need,” was the best he had to offer.

  She moved from within his arms and took his hand. He didn’t think that was a good sign, and he didn’t like not having her where he could feel her emotions as clearly as he could see them, but he went with her to the crest of the hill, where they sat in the grass overlooking the street below.

  They sat in silence for a long moment, and the uncertainty was eating him alive.

  “This is what I know about you.” Her soft voice broke through the silence. “You grew up in Peaceful Harbor with your brothers and sister and your parents, all of whom help run the bar. You and Dixie run the auto shop. You’re a member of a motorcycle club, and I think you’re the most loyal person I’ve ever met in my life, although Truman is right up there with you. You love Tru and Quincy as if they’re your brothers, and when the babies and Gemma came into their lives, you loved them, too. And then there I was, practically joined at the hip with Gemma. And for some reason you opened your heart, and your family, to me, too. I feel like that’s a lot to know about a person, even though there are a million things I don’t know.”

  “I’ll tell you whatever else you’d like to know.”

  “I know you would. We might have to go back and forth a hundred times before you got out of joking mode, but I know we’d eventually get there. The thing is,” she said a little more confidently, “I realized that what I know about you doesn’t matter as much as what you know about yourself. You obviously know that I’m attracted to you, but mostly, I’m attracted to what’s inside you, that at your core, you know who you are. That confidence shines brighter than the moon and the stars and the sun put together.”

  She lifted her eyes to his, and for the first time in his life, he didn’t have a snappy comeback. In fact, he didn’t have any words at all.

  “I know I sound crazy,” she said.

  “No. You sound saner than anyone I know. I’m just processing what you’ve said. It’s a strange feeling to know you’re attracted to the very thing that seems to make you push me away.”

  She nodded, a small smile lifting her lips, and she dropped her gaze to the house across the street. “Yeah, it’s weird for me, too. But please hear me out, and hopefully you’ll understand why. Everyone has a story. There’s someplace where their life began and things that led them to where they end up. For most people, it’s pretty clear-cut. And for people like you, who have lived in one small town, with a family who adores them, and parents who teach them how to handle life and love and all the things that make a person whole, your story is fairly easy to follow.”

  She paused, a haunted look hovering in her eyes.

  He couldn’t stand being separated by even the few inches between them. Everyone needed someone who would cross the lines they put up when they were too afraid to open a door. He’d never heard her so solemn and serious. He wanted to be there for her, to help her let go and to share the burden of whatever was weighing on her. He knew all about carrying the weight of the world on his shoulders, and it was a lonely place to be.

  Scooting closer, he pulled her tight against his side. She went stiff for a second or two, and then the tension drained from her shoulders. This was better. This was readable, real. This was safe.

  Her eyes drifted over the skyline, to the houses across the street, settling on the split-level at the bottom of the hill.

  “Some people know where their stories begin,” she said softly. “But like Truman, Quincy, Kennedy, and Lincoln, some stories have gaps and jogs and are pieced together with paste and tape. Those people choose a new starting point, and that’s where their new lives, or their new story, begins.”

  Bear knew that everyone had their secrets, their private bouts with hell, and he could tell by her quickening breaths that she was about to reveal hers. He held her closer, feeling proprietary and grateful that she trusted him enough to share whatever it was with him.

  “And my story is no different,” she said just above a whisper. “This is where my story began, and after jogs and gaps and stitches that never held, this is where I chose to start over. David helped me. He’s a therapist, and I’ve known him since I moved here. I saw him on a weekly basis for about three years, and then I stopped because I thought I’d moved past all the bad things that had happened.”

  She spoke fast, as if she feared if she didn’t get the words out they might fester and rot inside her. He turned toward her, wanting to protect her, to hold her within the circle of his arms and catch the pieces of her spilling out between them. He shifted so her body was between his legs, his knees drawn up like barriers from the outside world.

  “But then you came into my life,” she said swift and soft. “Like a dragon-slaying prince on a mission, scooping up everyone’s broken pieces and putting them back together again. You make me want things I long ago stopped hoping for, or even thinking about, and—”

  She lifted her eyes, heaven and hell colliding within them. He tried to process what she’d said, but there were too many missing parts. Jogs and gaps and stitches that never held. He couldn’t make sense of it. Though he desperately wanted to.

  “I’m no prince, baby, but I want to understand. What happened in those jogs and gaps that led you to David?” The guy that it sounds like I owe a whole heap of gratitude to.

  “We lived there”—she pointed to the house at the bottom of the hill—“in that house until I was eight, when my father lost his job. He was an insurance agent, and he traveled a lot, but when he was home, he tried, you know? He would do projects with me around the house, and sometimes, not often because he was gone so much, we’d go to flea markets together. He’d buy yarn and fabric that he used to make these dolls out of twigs and strings and yarn, and he’d leave them on my dresser before he left for a trip. I’d find them in the morning without a note or anything. Sometimes he’d make paella and hot grog, and we’d sit around the fire pit in our backyard, all four of us. We were a real family once.” Her voice drifted off, and a look of longing came over her. “Those were good times, and those silly little dolls meant so much to me.”

  “They should, and I think they still do. The dolls in your car and on your key chain?”

  “Yes, they do.” The haunted look returned. “They probably always will. When we moved from the harbor to the mobile home where my mom lives, it was pretty awful. But that was okay, because I had school to focus on and those dolls to look forward to, which made it easier to ignore the awful neighbors. And then one day my dad didn’t come home. He was killed by a drunk driver. That’s where my story stumbled and eventually broke.”

  “Christ. I had no idea. I’m sorry, baby.” He thought of the uncle he’d followed around from the time he was allowed inside the auto shop. Bear had been twenty-two when they’d lost him to cancer. That was the year he’d taken over managing the auto shop and the year he’d learned how diffe
rently people grieved. His father had gone through all the stages of grief in varying degrees of silence and anger, while Bear had needed to talk about his loss. Thankfully, his family knew he was a talker, and the rest of them had suffered through his long, emotional trips down memory lane. He wondered how Crystal had dealt with her father’s death and who had been there to help her through.

  She was watching him with a vacant look in her eyes, as if she were seeing memories unfold before her. “My mother and father used to drink occasionally, and for the life of me, I don’t remember them being heavy drinkers. But losing him changed everything. My mother became hateful, drinking herself into a stupor night after night. I thought it was just her way of coping and that it would pass, but it didn’t. And Jed started coming and going at odd hours, checking on me in passing. I think that’s when he started stealing. So I focused on school, determined, even at frigging nine years old, not to lose myself in my mother’s downward spiral. To control the one aspect of my life I could control. I spent hours in the library, like it was my second home. I have to admit, it was better than being home, so I sort of hid out there.”

  His heart ached for her. It sounded as though she’d never been given a chance to grieve.

  He framed Crystal’s face in his hands, wishing for the impossible. “I’m sorry, baby. I wish I could have been there for you.”

  “There were no dragon-slaying knights in my life. I took my senior English class over the summer and graduated high school a year early. My counselor helped me get a Pell Grant, and I went away to school. Not far, just to Lakeshore State, but it was far enough that no one knew me. And I reinvented myself.” Lakeshore State was a small college about two hours from Peaceful Harbor.

  Her strength and courage blew him away. “Crystal, you didn’t need a knight. You kicked ass all on your own.”

  “I thought I did, but…” She looked away, but not before he saw tears fill her eyes.

  His gut plummeted. “Missing your dad?”

  “No,” she said, swiping at her tears. “Yes. Always. But that’s not it.”

  He moved her legs beneath his and pulled her closer, brushing away the tears sliding down her cheeks. “What is it, baby?”

  “Part of reinventing myself was learning to fit in. I didn’t want to be defined by my past. I wanted people to see me as just another girl who went to college because it was what most kids did after high school. The first couple years of school were great. I kept my head down, studied my ass off, and maintained top grades. I’ve always been good in school, and I made friends easily back then. I even had a few boyfriends, but I wasn’t a partier. Truthfully, I was also trying to do well in school for my dad. He was always proud of my grades.”

  “He loved you.” Thank God, because it sounded like his love had pulled her through an awful situation.

  “He did.” That earned a genuine smile. “But in my third year I lifted my eyes from the books and looked around.” The edges of her mouth turned down, taking the pit of his stomach with them. “There was this whole world going on around me with parties and road trips and things I hadn’t allowed myself to enjoy. I was afraid to drink because of my mom and because of what had happened to my dad.”

  “Which explains why you never have more than a drink or two when we get together with Tru and Gemma by the bonfire or hang out at the bar.”

  “Yeah. I’m careful. Anyway, one night a friend convinced me to go to this party. There was no alcohol there because it was in the art building to honor some kids who had qualified for a national award or something. But you know, it was college, so kids had alcohol in their soda cans and water bottles, and kids came from other parties where there was alcohol.”

  She looked away again, and the air grew thick around her. Bear touched her face, bringing her troubled eyes back to his.

  “Sweetheart, take a deep breath with me.” He breathed in and out slowly, and she did the same. “That’s it. It’s okay. I’m right here, and I’m not going anywhere.”

  “I’m afraid to tell you.” Her voice trembled.

  He ground his teeth together, sensing the darkness to come. “There is nothing I haven’t seen, dealt with, or helped someone overcome through the club and bartending. We might not be an official couple—yet—but that doesn’t mean we don’t have a relationship. We’ve had months of close friendship. I care about you, and I haven’t been with a woman since the first week I met you. I’d say that’s a damn strong foundation, and I don’t think you’d be sitting here with me right now if you didn’t trust me.”

  “I do trust you,” she said quickly. “Wait. Is that true? About you not being with any other woman since the first week we met?”

  “Yes, of course. I might joke around a lot, but I don’t lie. At least not to the people I care about, and definitely not to you. I haven’t been with another woman and I got tested to make sure I was clean.” He smiled. “Just in case. I’m all in, Crystal, and have been for a long time.”

  She looked at him as if she were weighing his honesty by the scent of the air. “Wow. I didn’t expect to hear that.”

  “I didn’t expect to say it, but it’s true, and you need to know it.”

  “That’s…thank you. I do trust you. It’s just scary. I haven’t told this to anyone. Not even Gemma.”

  That knowledge stopped him cold. They were as close as sisters.

  “But I want to tell you.”

  He took her hand and pressed a kiss to it, holding on tight—for both of their sakes. “I’m here, and I’m listening.”

  She inhaled deeply, and when she spoke, her voice was shaky. “That night, my friend and I met these guys. They were older, and had come to visit one of their younger brothers or something. I didn’t really care enough to listen to the details, although now I wish I had. Anyway, we were messing around in the halls, and you know how one minute you can be with a group and the next minute people are pairing off…?”

  His gut seized. He didn’t like the direction this was going in. “Yes.”

  “Well, at some point the guy I was with led me up these dark stairs and we ended up in what I thought was a classroom. He said he wanted to show me sculptures his friend’s brother had made that were being submitted to the next round of awards. It was dark, and I knew he was drunk, but there were so many people downstairs, and he’d come with a group of guys. I didn’t worry until I realized there were no sculptures in the room. There were huge pieces of equipment and computers on every table, and it hit me that it wasn’t right. But by then…” Her voice trailed off.

  “He was all over me, and you have to understand. I had spent three years undoing everything I’d become in the trailer park. I dressed more proper, acted more feminine, and where I could have kicked anyone’s ass when I first got to college, I had buried that girl in order to fit in.”

  Bear’s muscles hardened to knots of rage. He clenched his teeth to keep those tight coils from unleashing a beast of vengeance.

  Her hand was sweating, and tears spilled from her eyes. “And then he was on top of me, pushing my skirt up, tearing off my underwear, telling me I wanted him. It was like I was watching it happen from above, and then my brain kicked into gear. I fought back, Bear. I fought and punched, and I became Chrissy again, the girl from the trailer park, trying to kill him. I grabbed him by the hair at the same moment he slammed into me, and the pain…” Tears fell down her cheeks. “The pain was excruciating. I wasn’t a virgin, but being taken against your will is nothing like consensual sex. It was over fast. I was horrified and hurt and so fucking angry I couldn’t see straight. He pulled me up to my feet, and I’ll never forget the look in his eyes when he said, ‘Now you have something to write home about.’”

  Chapter Five

  CRYSTAL CLOSED HER eyes, waiting for Bear to react to her awful confession. When she looked at him again, interminable seconds pulsed and swelled like ticking time bombs as she waited for him to say something, do something. He shifted his eyes over her shoulder, the
muscles in his face, shoulders, and arms flexing. She was tucked within the confines of his body, as if he wanted to swallow her up and protect her. But he couldn’t protect her from the past, and she could see the pain that caused him written all over his face.

  David’s voice whispered through her mind. Just because you’re ready to share your past doesn’t mean he’s ready to hear it.

  “Bear,” she said softly, wishing she could see inside his head. Would he move on to someone without such shitty baggage, without ghosts? Someone who had a normal, functional family like his? Sadness brought more tears. She forced them away, steeling herself for the worst. Sure, he’d been her friend for months, and he’d dropped everything to pick her up when she’d needed rides and showed up to help when she was babysitting for Kennedy and Lincoln. But no matter how much he flirted, or how good a friend he’d been, there was a world of difference between wanting to sleep with a person and wanting to bear their secrets. She’d been through hell and back, and she’d survived. She could survive this.

  His angry eyes rolled from her forehead to her cheeks, her mouth, all the way to her chin, and back up again. When he finally met her gaze, the tension lines fanning out from the edges of his mouth eased, and compassion rose in his eyes.

  “Is it okay if I hug you?”

  Her heart tumbled inside her chest. The man who told, who took, who possessed had asked if he could hug her? “Yes.”

  As he gathered her in his arms, holding her with the strength of a hundred men and the tenderness of a thousand more, she thought of the day she’d tried to tell her mother, and pain sliced through her anew. This was what she’d needed all those years ago, when the woman who had raised her, who was supposed to love and care for her unconditionally, had only spat venom. And this man, this warm, wonderful man, who had known her for less than a year, knew exactly what she needed.

  Bear held her tighter. “It’s okay, sweetheart. I’ve got you.”