by A. M. Brooks
“Doctor, actually,” she replies, while settling behind her desk and bringing the computer to life. “I own BBT. Usually I’m contracted out for employee hires at government or security sites.”
“Wow,” I reply, incredibly impressed. “You work frequently with Cole Security Forces then?”
Her shoulders lift in a shrug. She smiles and turns back to her computer. My own smile slips. A foreign feeling, I haven’t felt in over eight years beats in my chest. Jealousy. My neck flares with heat and I bet it’s an angry shade of red.
I know nothing about this girl anymore, except that she is a doctor in her field, owns her own business, isn’t married, and judging by the picture on her desk, she graduated from Alabama. Even though I’m responsible for making that decision for her, my heart sinks a little. We were supposed to do that together and I ran off, too scared of my own future without football. After this many years, when I say it out loud now, I’m embarrassed. Not because I couldn’t succeed, but because of the extreme lengths I went to, to hide it from everyone else.
“I’m sorry about your friend,” Lyric says, pulling my attention back to her. “I know few details about what happened because of clearance, but I do know we need to talk about it as part of your assessment. Can you do that?”
I nod. “Yeah. I can talk about Tric all day. He was a great guy and he should still be alive.”
“It’s not easy to lose a friend,” she responds.
My pulse speeds up. “Camryn?”
“Oh no!” She holds her hands up. “Camryn is fine. She and Tim are married and living just outside of Nashville. Sorry, I didn’t mean her or any of our friends from high school.”
I relax slightly, guilt eating at me because I know nothing about what my friends have been up to. I lit up and out of that town without bothering to check in with anyone. I guess I assumed they’d all be on Lyric’s side after our breakup. I wanted that so she wouldn’t be alone. With the exception of Zane, I haven’t thought of anyone.
“I’m happy for them. I haven’t really stayed in touch with anyone,” I mutter, that old flare of red heats up my neck again.
Her eyes harden slightly. “You and Zane have stayed in contact, though.”
“He’s going to be excited to see you,” I let the truth slip out.
“I find that hard to believe. I haven’t seen or talked to him since you both lit out of here after graduation,” she fires back, her words are the first of many bullets to my chest. I go to open my mouth to tell her I’m sorry, but she is already looking at her computer.
“It was a long time ago.” She lets out her breath slowly, before continuing, “How about you tell me more about Tric?”
“What do you want to know?”
“Anything. Where did you meet? What was he like? Those types of things,” she rattles off, while clicking against the keyboard.
My brow rises. “I feel like I’m describing a date or something.”
“Well, he was an important person in your life,” she shrugs, “so tell me why. Why did you decide working with Cole Security Forces was worth it for closure?”
“We ended up at the same station one year in South Korea. I found out he was from a town close to where we were from. We started hanging out when we had time off. And when we moved back stateside, we ended up at the same place again.”
“In Texas or Colorado?” she asks. “It says both on your sheet.”
“In Colorado and Texas.” I nod. “It was a short stint we pulled in Texas, but that’s when Zane and Tric met and we just sort of all became really good friends. Tric and I did a deployment to Iraq too. Then I chose going back to Colorado and he wanted to go on the mission in Iraq again.”
“How did you feel about that?” Lyric turns to me.
“I didn’t think much of it. I was hoping he would be okay. Tric liked the sense of adventure. He got a rush from the adrenaline. He was good under pressure, too,” I tell her, falling back into an old habit, where I feel like I can tell Lyric anything.
“And now that he’s gone?” she pries a little harder, and it still doesn’t bother me.
“I wish I had been there,” I tell her honestly, and her brow quirks, so I explain further. “If I had, maybe I would have seen something he didn’t. Tric had god gut reactions. He never fully trusted or liked Miller, but he chose to look past it because he thought they were all on the same team. If he had trusted his gut fully or if I had been there and got the same feeling, maybe things would have been different.”
“You realize this sounds like survivor’s guilt.” Her voice becomes softer, lulling me into a more peaceful place as well.
“I know,” I tell her, “I’ve lost a few men and women over the years. Their deaths never get any easier to accept. I just keep pushing so that they aren’t in vain. If I don’t work with Cole Security Forces on this, I’ll feel like I didn’t give Tric’s death the thought it deserved.”
“You have a past trauma of losing family members that are close to you, in addition to friends while in the military, do you feel this affects your decisions in the field?” Her words sound like they’re being read from a script, and I start to feel pissed off now.
“That sounds like too personal of information to be asking,” I tell her. Instantly, her gaze snaps to mine.
“It’s information you provided in your profile. I’m simply trying to gauge if that affects your ability to make decisions safely in the field when you’re with a contracted team I also work with.” Her shoulders roll back like she’s ready to do battle.
My eyes narrow. “When do I get to ask you personal questions back? Like how close are you to the employees at Cole Security Forces?”
“That’s not how the assessments go, Colt,” she responds quickly and damn if the challenge doesn’t make me a little excited. My blood burns in my veins for the first time in years. A part of myself that felt dormant starts to wake up.
“How about after my assessments?” I ask, loving the way a pink flush starts to creep up her neck. “How about a drink after work?”
“Colt,” she shakes her head, “if you ever finish these assessments, maybe I’ll consider it.”
“That’s not a problem,” I instantly agree, not even realizing the glacier color her eyes have turned.
“We’ll see. I seem to remember you not really being able to follow through on your word.”
I pull my bottom lip between my teeth, and take a deep breath in. Yeah, that fucking hurt. Not that I don’t deserve it. In her eyes, I’m still the shithead ex-boyfriend who broke her heart and left when my own shit got difficult. I set her up for a future I couldn’t work up the courage to continue with. I suddenly feel like I’m at a pivotal cross-point in my life again.
Here in this sterile, white office, across from the girl I loved since I was sixteen. Well let’s be honest, I’ve loved Lyric since she first talked to me after Alex’s funeral when we were ten. My mind clears of all noise and thought, except for if I’m going to let this slide by or hold on. I let her go once and it almost killed me. I’ve only been living a half-life since I left her. Surviving because I had to and sometimes being too reckless when I could lie to myself that I had no one who would care about me anyway.
I’ve dodged bullets, IEDs, and been chased more times than I can count, but the haunted look, deep in Lyric’s eyes, buried under the front she is giving me, the small specks that show me more than she probably wished she did, are the scariest thing I’ve ever seen. “Next question then, doc.”
We continue this way for the next couple hours. Her asking questions that are borderline personal and me trying to call her out on it, enjoying watching that flush creep higher on her neck until it touches her cheeks. The last thing she hands me is a multiple-choice personality test, which I complete within half an hour.
Turning to her, I ask the one question that’s been on my tongue since I arrived. “Why didn’t you reach out if you knew you would be seeing me today? If you knew what happened?�
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She turns to me, the first time I’ve had all of her attention since earlier. She stops typing, sets down her pen. Her eyes slide all over me before meeting my eyes. “I lost your number the day you lost your morals.”
Lyric gets up to leave and the door snaps shut behind her, before I’m on my feet moving. I can’t leave without trying to see her again. After all this time, I know I need to be honest with her about what happened. I rationalize it’s probably going to make her madder that I lied, but making it all up to her could be worth it. I’m dying to know what she’s been doing since I left. I know I have no right, only my brain doesn’t care. I jog slightly down the hallway, my hand reaching her arm and pulling her to a stop before we reach the waiting room.
“Have dinner with me,” I ask, ready to beg, which feels like that’s the way this is going to go.
“No,” she replies, and even though I expected it, the lack of hesitancy in her voice bothers me.
My head hangs down. “Lyric, I know I don’t deserve it. I know I hurt you. I’m sorry and I’d really like the chance to tell you why I did what I did. Then you can get up and walk away if you want.”
My heart beats between us, loud enough I swear she could probably hear it. I’m already formulating how to counter whatever argument she has when she answers and I do a double take. “What?”
“I said, okay,” she repeats.
My mouth opens and closes twice before I can make a sentence again. “Does tonight work?”
“Tonight isn’t good for me, but tomorrow I can.” She pulls out a card from her pocket. “Here’s a place I like to go to. Meet me there at seven? You should be done with PT and your debriefing by then.”
My fingers take the card from her gently, my head nodding. “Yeah, okay, sounds good.”
“See you tomorrow, Colt,” she replies before stalking off down a separate hallway. I don’t even know how long I stand there looking at the piece of paper she handed me. Her long, cursive writing stares back at me, so I know I didn’t hallucinate this.
In a fog, I head back to the reception area. Scott waves goodbye to me. I think I wave back. Somehow, I make it to my car and back to the hotel where I manage to get a workout in. It isn’t until hours later that I pick up my phone and find a text from Zane. I forgot to warn him.
Z-Thom: Lyric is here.
Z-Thom: You asshole. You could have warned me.
Z-Thom: Yup, she hates us. She wouldn’t even hear me out.
Z-Thom: How the fuck do you have plans with her?
I type him out a quick response and slip into the shower. I don’t need him to tell me why this may be a bad idea. I shared the same room with her all day, breathing in her air and hearing her voice. My loving Lyric was never the issue. I loved her, wanted her, died a thousand times and bartered for my life with God, saying if I ever saw her again, I’d apologize. Seeing her blew that plan out of the water. I can’t leave Virginia without her.
Chapter Twelve
Lyric
Stupid is what I am. How in the actual world I thought I could have dinner with Colt Street and not let my feelings get in the way I’ll never know. It was overwhelming being in his presence for hours at the office. I blame it on the fact that my brain short-circuited by the end of the meeting after smelling him, hearing him, and talking with him after eight years. I came close to backing out right there when he asked why I hadn’t contacted him after knowing I’d be seeing him today. I’m proud of myself that I held firm. If he only knew how much Mark had to beg me to take this commission for them. Colt and Zane, the boys from my past, all in one day, yeah no. I had fought hard against this. Avoided calls, tried filling my calendar, you name it, I did it. The universe had different ideas though because everything I tried fell apart and somehow I still ended up having the availability and Mark was relentless in getting them on my schedule. In the end, I decided the business was good for my company.
Then to make matters worse, I actually agreed to have dinner with him to what, hear him out? That sounds torturous. My eyes slide to the picture on my desk and roam over the tall man with darker skin, black hair and startling amber eyes standing with his arm draped over my shoulders. “This is all your doing, isn’t it?”
His smile in the picture doesn’t change, but I swear I can hear his light chuckle echo in the room. It would be just like him. Anything that made me uncomfortable, he used to find pleasure in doing. I don’t know why I loved him when he lived to push my buttons.
Colt. After eight years, my ex-boyfriend had swept in and turned my life upside down. When he left, I was a mess. I made it to Alabama and spent the first semester wanting to come home. I skated by in my classes, not really finding any enjoyment in them. I was no closer to picking a major than I had been at the beginning of the summer and felt like I was sinking. The campus felt more like an ocean and less like the pond I was used to. I was drowning, not making many friends, only my roommate and another girl on my dorm floor, and I was holding on to a relationship I no longer had any control over. I remember feeling abandoned and minuscule.
It wasn’t until I met Jordan that I started living again. I owe everything to him. He picked me up and forced me to see what I was doing to myself. My roommate had tried to set us up on a double date. I made it about halfway through dinner when he called me out on my bullshit. I cried, and he told me I deserved better than what I was doing to myself. I was letting Colt have power over me. I was letting him continue to dictate what happened in my life and he had no idea. He was hundreds, thousands of miles away, and he had made it very clear how he felt about me and our relationship. They say tough love works wonders, but Jordan dealt out brutal love. Honesty. He brought me home after that failed date and we didn’t speak for months. Fortunately, we had the same group of friends in common and I saw him at parties and events. I took his barbs and jokes about how pathetic I was over a guy and forced myself to start living my life again for me.
Did that mean I wasn’t affected by Colt today? Hell no. I just managed to take my control back. I paid attention in class. I found I loved psychology the most but wanted to minor in criminology. I was intrigued by forensic interviewing, personality and human behavior. I joined a co-ed volleyball team where Jordan also played, and he started to realize I was fixing myself. His cold attitude had managed to light a fire in me. I became a member of the psych club and organized a thriller, serial killer movie and documentary night every Wednesday. That was the first time Jordan asked me on a date again, and I turned him down. I turned him down several times.
I spent more time with my roommate and the other girls, piecing myself together. My style changed. My hair went through an almost blonde phase to pitch black. I grew it out then I chopped it off. I got a tattoo. I challenged myself to be comfortable single and gave myself time to grieve a relationship, not only my first boyfriend but also someone I had been friends with for half my life. I went on random dates and a few ended in heated kisses. Camryn called me frequently and praised me for trying.
I went home that summer after freshman year and that was when all hell broke loose. I decided to pick up extra shifts at the floral shop I had worked at in high school as well as pulling three evening shifts a week at Roadside waiting tables. I made bank that summer and it was worth it. I also gained the experience to put on future applications for serving and bartending when I went back to Alabama. Much to my parents’ dismay, I did grow to like being at school and had no intention of moving back home. After one of my shifts, I joined Camryn on the patio. She and Tim were both home for the summer too, when I noticed a girl with blonde hair at the bar who kept looking over at me. After the fifth time, she walked over and asked to sit at the empty seat at our table.
“You don’t remember me, do you?” she asked, timidly, biting the edge of her fingernail.
“I’m sorry,” I told her, shaking my head slightly.
“I was at the party last summer,” her head bowed down, “I was invited by Colt.”
&n
bsp; Everything clicked into place and the soul crushing memories flew back to me. “What do you want?”
“Look, I just wanted to clear something up,” she talked fast, clearly nervous, “I didn’t sleep with him.”
“What did you say?” I asked, clearly she thought I must be stupid. “I saw you.”
“You did,” she nodded, flushing, “we didn’t sleep together, though. We never even kissed. I puked on my shirt and Colt let me borrow his. I passed out and he and one of my friends watched me all night to make sure I didn’t choke and die. I was so embarrassed that’s why I flew to the bathroom the next morning when I heard people. Steph, my friend, was still in the room when I walked out. I didn’t think he was going to lie like that. I wanted you to know because yes, I thought he was hot, but I wouldn’t have ever done that knowing he had a girlfriend.”
Her words and the way she kept staring into my eyes, I couldn’t not believe her. It didn’t make sense though. Why would Colt lie? Needless to say I got drunk. I somehow made it to our spot. I’m not sure how many times I went there after that, but I know it wasn’t healthy. I could hear Jordan’s voice in my mind telling me I was being pathetic and giving Colt back all my power. Before I left home after that summer, I grabbed my dad’s ax. I had only meant to chip off the part where our initials were, but I ended up toppling half the tree over. I apologized to the town council even though, deep down, it gave me a sense of satisfaction. I haven’t been back since then, except for holidays.
The rest of college changed even more after that. I became myself. My hair grew, the color went back to natural and I stopped trying so hard to be happy and just was. One night after a long shift at Tidal Wave, a college bar, Jordan walked me back to the home I rented with some of my girls and asked me out again. That time I said yes.
Leaning back in my office chair, my eyes close. I have three hours until I’m meeting Colt. I wasn’t lying when I said I didn’t have his number. I also changed mine, so he couldn’t contact me either, so neither of us have confirmed we still have plans tonight. My gaze drops to my watch and I mentally plan out how much time I’ll have once I get home to get ready, then berate myself for even caring. Closure. I need to keep thinking about this as closure. I just want to know why. So if he’s ready to talk about it, I’m ready to hear it, I think. I have nothing to be sorry for is the mantra I’ve repeated many times over the years. He chose to lie and to hurt me. And as Jordan always said, there’s nothing wrong with getting angry.