Ready to Fall (A Second Chance Bad Boy Next Door Romance)

by Anne Connor

  Grabbing my drink, I toss the rest back and then put it back down on the bar, looking straight ahead, planning out exactly what to do next.

  But I don’t have to plan it. I’ve gone over it a million times in my head. When I was in prison, I had time to think. I kept to myself, and all I could do was think. About her. About what I would do when I finally saw her again.

  I could apologize a million times, once for every second that I caused her pain. Or I could say nothing, and take her by the hand and lead her back to my house, where I would wrap her up in my arms and make her mine all over again with my words, my lips, and my cock.

  Make her forget we ever said goodbye.

  But the truth is I don’t know what the fuck to do. None of it would be good enough for her. She doesn’t deserve an apology. She deserves a magic spell to take away the pain I know I caused her.

  “Travis, I think that’s -” Alec says, interrupting my thoughts.

  “I know,” I say, keeping my voice calm and even. I toss a twenty dollar bill on the bar and get up, keeping my back to the other end of the bar where Daisy and her friend Sarah are standing.

  I look over my shoulder again. I need to see her. I need to see her now and I need to place her in my mind where she was years ago, before everything got fucked up, back when everything was simpler.

  Even though only a year has gone by, it’s been a long year, and it shows in her eyes.

  She looks happy. She looks good. She looks beautiful and self-assured in her little black dress. It was never like her to wear a dress here, and I wonder why she isn’t wearing a pair of black jeans and a black t-shirt.

  Sarah throws her chin up and laughs at something Daisy said, and my heart tightens up. Daisy isn’t even thinking about me. She’s over there laughing about God-knows-what, and I’m probably the farthest thing from her mind.

  Or maybe she’s laughing at how she wasted her time with a fucking prick like me.

  My jaw clenches up as Alec finishes his drink and starts over to me.

  “You okay, man? Want to go over to talk to her?”

  “She looks busy,” I manage, shoving my hands into my pockets and turning to leave. “And I need a smoke.”

  I want the warm nicotine to flood my veins and calm me down. If Daisy’s moved on, then I know she’s too good for me, like I always thought. But the idea of moving on from her seems unfathomable.

  I shouldn’t bother her. It wouldn’t be fair.

  My fists clench up into balls under the weight of what I’m seeing. I want her to be happy, damn it. I just can’t believe she’s happy without me. I’ll never be happy without her. Seeing her laughing with her best friend like nothing ever happened to me - to us - sends my head into a tailspin.

  “Everything okay, pal?” Alec looks at me sidelong as the music clanging out of the jukebox in the corner stops. I take another look over at Daisy and Sarah, but now there’s a guy with them. He’s standing a little too close to Daisy, but she’s still smiling and laughing. His hand comes down on her shoulder, and a wave of heat grips my chest, sending energy pumping through my veins.

  Daisy’s eyes aren’t smiling like her lips are. I remember her smile, one that would light up her whole face. But there isn’t any joy behind this smile, and as she inches away from the guy standing between her and Sarah, I can see he’s swaying like someone who’s not here to meet a nice girl who he can take to church tomorrow morning. Daisy tries to be polite, but her hands go up toward his chest - not like she’s trying to give him any ideas, but like she’s trying to get this guy to leave her the hell alone.

  But then something happens. She smiles.

  My Daisy smiles, and I head for the exit.

  I can’t watch this shit anymore. If she can be happy without me, I can’t watch it.

  I can’t watch her be happy without me.

  Daisy

  I haven’t been to the bowling alley in a long time, but when I step in tentatively, a flood of nostalgia nearly overwhelms me. It’s strange, because it looks so different, but it smells exactly the same - the combination of alley wax, slightly burnt soft pretzels, and tonic water - and if I didn’t know this was the bowling alley just two blocks from my house, I’d have thought it was in a different state.

  My eyes glance upward, at all of the newly-installed screens above the ball returns. They used to be the old-school style ones, where the balls would race back to the players between beams next to each lane, but now they’re the below-floor kind. The main lobby area used to be carpeted in bright orange area rugs taped down on the edges with clear packing tape and worn out in spots, but now, there’s dark cherry wood slats horizontally across the entire alley, the lanes flanking the large space on either side.

  But the shoe rental stand is still straight ahead, and the smell is still exactly the same. You can try to scrub away what a place used to be like, I guess, but you can never really get rid of it, and that smell sends my mind back to that summer after college, sending little details of me and Travis right to the forefront of my mind.

  I remember him once taking me back where the mini shoe-lockers were set up behind the bar. He was always so cool, in some t-shirt of a band I didn’t know. He kissed me up against the lockers, and someone had left their orange key sticking out of the keyhole. Travis noticed and gently put his hand on the small of my back and maneuvered me away from it. He asked what I thought was inside there, and I said it was probably just someone’s shoes. He pretended to start to open it, but then he stopped, giving me a cute smile and pressing his lips to mine, never taking his hand off the small of my back.

  “You still with me here?” Sarah’s voice cuts through my memory, sending me reeling back to the present. I look over to her and realize that we’ve barely made it more than a few steps into the bowling alley, when a strange feeling hits me in the gut. It’s not nostalgia - it’s something else. It’s something like nostalgia, but the sadness at its edges is dulled and blurred with a suggestion, just a flicker, of hope.

  “Yeah,” I say, striding forward with her, trying to act with all the confidence I can muster. “Let’s go get that drink.

  We cut around the shoe rental stand and past lanes of older men, sipping beer and chatting casually, not paying that much attention to their games. When we get to the bar, we take our position at the end, plopping our handbags and elbows down.

  Behind us are round tables with three or four chairs pulled up to each, but besides a young couple sitting at a table tucked into the corner with a light-up St. Pauli girl behind them sharing a basket of onion rings and looking sweetly into each other’s eyes, the place is empty.

  Sarah flags down the bartender, and I decide I need to make the most of this situation. She orders two beers, the bartender’s eyes glued to the deep-v neck of her grey t-shirt.

  “I look out of place,” I say to Sarah as the bartender slides two tall glasses of foamy light-amber beer across the bar to us. She takes a crumpled twenty out of her miniscule purse and smooths it out on the sticky bar.

  “You do not,” she says, looking down at my shoes. “You’re perfect.”

  I take the glass to my lips and close my eyes, letting the froth at the rim of the glass hit my lip as I tilt the glass back and take a sip. It’s been an hour since I left the police gala, and I’ve never been much of a drinker, but right now it seems like I should be. All of the young recruits and old-timers were drinking beers like it was a regular custom for them, and if I’m going to fit in with them, I should probably learn to conform. Aside from the glass of champagne I grabbed on my way out of the party earlier just so I’d have something to do with my hands, I hadn’t had anything to drink all night.

  Letting out a deep sigh, I put my glass back down on the bar and look over at Sarah. Her face is cast down toward the bar, and her eyes are focused on nothing. It’s not like her to be at a loss for words. She was always the first one to speak up in class, whether she knew the answer or not. That’s one of the things I always ad
mired about her. She leaps first and asks questions later. That’s one of the most admirable qualities. To live without fear.

  “Okay,” I say. “What is it?”

  “What? I didn’t say anything.”

  “Exactly. So get to it. What’s going on in there?” I point to her forehead, the tip of my index finger connecting gently. “Spill.”

  She takes a small sip of her beer and puts the glass back down on the bar, and I notice there are a few more people starting to filter in. I try to look at them out of the corner of my eye, and keep myself toward Sarah. I feel like every time someone new comes in, it could be Travis, but I know it’s unlikely. Sill, it keeps my heart close to my throat.

  “Okay. I didn’t know that it was Travis’ day to come home, that’s all. And I guess I’m just concerned for you. And I feel stupid for making such a big deal out of the thing with Colin.”

  “Oh,” I say, waving my hand through the air between us. “That’s nothing. And I don’t blame you for being curious about Colin. He’s a good guy.”

  Sarah shoots me a glance and lifts a skeptical eyebrow at me.

  “He is!” I say. “He’s actually too perfect. Just the kind of guy I should want.”

  “You mean just the kind of guy your dad wants for you.” She purses her lips into a straight line. She’s absolutely right. “This is all the more reason for you to tell me all the things that are wrong with him.”

  “There’s nothing wrong with him,” I say despondently. “That’s the whole problem. It would be easy to dismiss him out of hand if there was truly some huge red flag. But there isn’t. That’s the issue here.”

  “Did you ever think that maybe you’re the problem?”

  “That’s harsh,” I say, but maybe she has a point. Something isn’t connecting between me and Colin, and it isn’t his fault. It makes sense that it could be a problem with me.

  “Just think about it. He’s perfect, but just not perfect for you. And that’s only a problem because you’re the one who has to be in a relationship with the guy. Or not. What I’m trying to say is that this is all up to you. No one else.”

  She’s right. It is up to me. Then why do I feel so helpless? My mind drifts back to that night. I had the ring Travis had given me on my finger, and I feel so good about my choice to say yes. But then everything fell apart, his name forever attached to a docket number and my father telling me everything that I never wanted to be true about him.

  That night made me question everything, and now I don’t know how I can trust even myself. I keep wondering if I was partly to blame for the way that night happened.

  My choices aren’t mine alone anymore. And I don’t know who they belong to, which is scarier than having to make them for myself.

  Travis

  The bar is starting to fill in like it used to on Friday nights, but she doesn’t see me. I don’t want her to see me. Shit, I don’t even want to look myself in the mirror right now.

  Alec and I make our way out the front doors, the sliding glass opening to let the cool October air swirl around us. There are signs up now that weren’t here a year ago saying we can’t smoke within fifty feet of the property, so we go around the side where no one can see us before I light up.

  “Can I get one of those? Jess won’t let me smoke in the house anymore. She doesn’t like me smoking at all,” Alec says.

  “How’s the baby?” I pinch the end of a cigarette by the filter and hand it over to Alec, flicking my thumb against the ignitor on my lighter and cupping a hand around the end of his cigarette to shield it from the wind.

  “She’s absolutely wonderful.” A grin travels across Alec’s face and lights up his eyes. “She’s starting to talk now. It’s amazing. She calls for me in the middle of the night when she needs something.”

  A heavy silence descends on us, and I can see what he’s thinking.

  “Look,” he says, sucking on the end of his cigarette and exhaling into the air above us. I cross my arms in front of my chest and lean back on the brick wall behind me, knowing what he’s about to say.

  “Don’t. You’ve been there for me more than enough times for things to already be right between us.” I suck in a mega-dose of nicotine into my lungs, feeling the warmth of the smoke radiate through my chest before opening my eyes as it hits my brain. My mother would be so fucking disappointed in me for willingly ingesting this shit.

  “Man, that’s what I want. For things to just be right.”

  I tried to make things right. I tried to tip the scales so everything would be even. And maybe it is now. Daisy’s at the bar right now, and she doesn’t need me anymore. Maybe that means everything’s right in the world.

  I glance behind me, through the big window on the side of the building. Daisy isn’t smiling anymore. This poseur has his arm swung over the shoulder of my girl, and he isn’t saying much of anything. He isn’t crossing any lines, either. And even though I know Daisy can deal with this herself, she doesn’t look so happy anymore.

  I watch the two of them closely as this asshole’s eyes trail down my Daisy’s face to her collarbone and then her neck. She’s all covered up, but her curves are even more accentuated in that black dress than they would be if she was all bare-skinned. His fingers land on the back of her neck, and I see her throat contacts as she swallows, a nervous glint in her eyes, moving back and forth from the bartender to the stranger touching her.

  A sick possessiveness rolls through my chest and I stamp out my cigarette. It’s irrational, but I want to make sure she’s okay. I hear Alec behind me, telling me to stop. But I don’t stop. I’m not going to do anything rash, though. Just make sure she’s okay. Because I can’t stop myself.

  I enter the building and stride over to him like I’m running into a burning building, about to put out a blazing fire.

  “This guy bothering you?” I spit out as I come up behind him.

  Her blue eyes flash beneath the dim lights, brightening up her face. A wave of emotion crashes through her eyes, passing from shock as they widen to excitement as she bites down softly on her bottom lip.

  “We’re fine over here, bro,” the guy says, stepping between me and Daisy.

  Anger flashes in my chest as I look around the bar, trying to pinpoint who he’s here with. I spot a few young guys who look exactly like him in the corner, laughing and pointing at us, and I know he’s with them.

  “Don’t you have somewhere else you need to be right now, bro?” I push my finger into the guy’s chest. “Like laughing over there with that group of assholes in the corner?”

  The guy’s jaw clenches up, and he takes his hand off Daisy’s neck. She lets out of relieved sigh and turns her body toward the bar, but looks up at me and mouths thank you.

  “Just go,” I say.

  My voice surprises even me as he puffs up his chest, looks me straight in the eye, and then walks away from me and Daisy.

  Daisy’s head hangs down over the bar as she breathes heavily, and she puts a hand on the back of her neck, as if she’s trying to rub away the skin where this guy put his hand on her.

  “It’s okay. He’s gone.”

  I put my hand over hers, and for an instant her stiff fingers relax under mine, unfurling the tension that guy put into her. But just as fast, she pulls her hand away.

  “Thanks.” She stiffens up, her breathing coming in more even now, and she looks up at me with eyes that could take away anyone’s pain in an instant. “But I could have handled that on my own.”

  Her words wrap around my heart and sting it. I want to think that she could have handled it on her own, but sometimes guys can be pretty fucking awful.

  I know first-hand.

  “I’m not saying you couldn’t have.” I toss a glance over to where that guy’s retreated to his group, but they aren’t there anymore, and I’m relieved. I don’t want to know what I’d do if that guy tried to intimidate Daisy again, give her attention she didn’t want. “But from the looks of it, I thought you could use
some help.”

  She looks up at me again, a cool expression taking over her perfect, heart-shaped face. “Help? That’s what you were trying to do?”

  Daisy pulls her purse toward herself on the bar with one hand and pushes her beer away with the other. She slips her hands carefully inside the purse, and I hear a faint zip mixing with the pop or dance or whatever the hell it is music now coming from the speakers tucked into each corner on the ceiling of the small bar.

  My heart leaps into my chest when I see what she pulls out.

  It’s the ring I gave her a year ago.

  But it looks dull. Like it hasn’t had a chance to sparkle at all.

  She told me she would start wearing it when she had the chance to sit down with her parents and tell them our plans.

  I never did ask her father for permission, because I knew I wouldn’t have his blessing.

  She looks down at it, the stone and band sitting perfectly inside her cupped palm. I wait for her to say something. To give me a signal.

  Daisy reaches down and takes my hand in hers, letting me lace my fingers through hers. The air between us holds electricity and fire, and then she goes cold.

  Looking up, her forehead pinching with an emotion I can’t read, her eyes go down again to our hands locked between us, but there’s no feeling in hers.

  She drops the ring inside my hand and closes my fingers around it.

  “I needed your help a year ago,” she says quietly.

  The stone digs into my hand as my fingers crush around it, wishing this wasn’t really happening.

  She turns away from me slowly, and walks away.

  Daisy

  Aside from the fact that there isn’t much crime here in Riverside, my desk is situated far from the jail where people who have been apprehended are held to await bail.

  “Okay, you’ve got to have enough in there for two people.” Colin jogs up next to me as I swing my car door shut.