“It’s cool, man. Only fucking with you.” Batt holds out his hand and they do some kind of macho boyfriend handshake thing. “You know no bro would ever touch another bro’s babe, it’s—”
“I’m no one’s babe,” I interrupt. “I’m here to do a bio project and I can look out for myself, Dakota. Thank you very much.” Better to announce my presence with authority first thing with these guys.
I’m not one of their starry-eyed fangirls, and it’s best to set the record straight if I’m going to be coming here to do projects.
“Yeah, Dakota. Trace can take care of herself,” Wolfe says in a high-pitched feminine voice, then adds in his own deep voice, “so back the fuck off.” He snickers, while placing forks and napkins around the table.
Dak mouths the word sorry to me. “Have a seat, Trace.” He pulls out a chair for me. “I’ll get you that margarita.”
“Got some enchiladas coming out of the oven right now. I’ll make you a plate,” Dalt, who hadn’t said a word through the whole exchange, announces. “Glad you’re here, Trace. It’s good you’re friends with Dak.” He places a steaming dish of food in front of me and puts one down for himself to the left of me.
“I’m glad I am too.”
Dak puts a gigantic bowl filled with a mixed green salad in the middle of the table, then takes the seat to the right of me. A girl could get used to being waited on by all these Magic Mike potentials.
“I thought you might be interested in knowing Nikki moved in with me.” I toss the tidbit of info out to Dalt, because I’m certain he would want to know. Since he stops mid-bite, his mouth gaped open, I think I’m right.
“She’s…Nikki…she’s right next door?”
“Yup. Right there,” I reiterate with a slight smile. This boy has it bad.
“I invited her to come for dinner too,” Dak says. “But she said she has too much school stuff to get done.” He doesn’t take his eyes off his plate, but I can hear the smile in his voice.
“Maybe you guys can all come over to our place next weekend. I can return the favor and you can see Nik then,” I offer nonchalantly. Dak bumps my leg with his under the table and smiles down at his plate. I guess it’s his version of applauding the suggestion with a high-thigh.
“You’ll need to run that by Nikki,” Dalt mumbles and shoves a forkful of enchilada into his mouth.
“I’ll do that. So what’s up with your names?” I ask, changing the subject for Dalt’s sake. All the guys are seated around the table now and they’ve all got dishes in front of them stacked a mile high with cheesy enchiladas and a beer in hand.
“Our names?” Dante asks.
“Mm hmm,” I say through the gooey deliciousness I scrape off my fork. “All your names start with the letter D, right? Is it some kind of house rule?”
“No,” Dak answers. “Just a coincidence. But it is kind of cool because when we play they call us the D-structors, because of our names and the way we work together to crush the opposing teams.” Wolfe gives Dak a high five and the rest of the guys all make some kind of affirming grunt through their mouthfuls of food.
“No way. They do not call you the D-structors. You guys are totally fucking with me, right?”
“We would never fuck with you, sweetheart,” Wolfe grins. As if on cue they chant in unison, all except Dak, “At least not with your mind.” They glance over at Dak to see what his reaction will be to their unexpected coordinated response.
“Aww how cute,” I say, not giving him the chance to jump to my aid again. I need to stand up for myself when it comes to this crew of arrogant hotties. “You’re like a boy band, all synchronized and shit. Are you going to start singing in harmony now?” I tease. Everyone at the table is laughing. “Oh I know! You’re like the Hanson brothers plus one, right?”
“Holy shit, Andersen! She’s seen Slap Shot!” Wolfe’s full mouth gapes open in obvious surprise.
“Are you kidding? A chick who’s seen the movie Slap Shot?” Dalt adds in equaled astonishment.
“Seen it? It was like the national anthem in our house. At the beginning of every hockey season my mom would make popcorn and my dad would make us all sit in the home theater to watch it,” I explain through forkfuls of food. “You know, like other people watch A Christmas Carol every holiday season, we had to watch Slap Shot every hockey season. I can practically recite the whole dialogue.”
“Man, a chick who can recite lines from Slap Shot and has a home theater. I think I’m in love,” Wolfe coos, and the rest of the guys mumble their agreement through full mouths, all except Dak.
He finally enters the conversation. “Her dad is Duke Andersen.”
“No shit?” Batt asks.
“No shit.” I smile at how awestruck these guys are by the life I take for granted.
“Wow, Andersen. You better hold on to this one or I may say screw the bro-code and sweep her off her feet for myself,” Wolfe taunts.
The muscle in Dak’s jaw twitches. “Enough, asshole.”
“What’s with you, Andersen? You on the rag or something?” Wolfe heckles.
“Shut up, man. You’re disgusting.” Dak throws his napkin at Wolfe. It’s obvious he’s holding back a smile and not really mad at him.
“Trace, you want a beer with your food?” Dak asks, getting up to head to the fridge.
“No thanks. I’ll stick with the margarita. We’ve got the report to do.”
“Yeah, Dakota. You’ve got the report to do.” Wolfe purses his lips and blinks his lashes at us.
“Shut up, Wolfe,” Dak and I say at the exact same time. For a second everyone stops eating and the room is silent. Then everyone breaks out into laughter again.
“What? What’s the problem? Just happy to see my man Andersen with another fine lady. He’s been a mess ever since Abbey.”
“Abbey? Who’s Abbey?” I ask over the top of my margarita glass. The room goes so quiet I can hear my enchiladas being digested. I look over at Dak for an explanation, and he’s glaring at Wolfe like he’s either swallowed his fork or decided to strangle his roommate, after all.
CHAPTER
EIGHTEEN
Dak
Wolfe chokes on the food in his mouth. “Oh fuck. You didn’t tell her?”
“For chrissakes, Wolfe. When are you going to learn to shut the fuck up?” Dalt throws a piece of lettuce across the table, hitting Wolfe right in the face.
“How the fuck am I supposed to know he didn’t tell her about his girlfriend?” Wolfe pulls the piece of lettuce off his face and tosses it back at Dalt.
“His…what?” Trace gapes at me in disbelief.
Shitshitshit.
I should have told her about Abbey last night. But after everything else at the lighthouse, I wanted to give her some time.
“You…you have a…a girlfriend?” She carefully sets her fork down on the table, like if she doesn’t get it out of her hand she might stick it in my neck. She keeps swallowing like she can’t get her food to go down.
“No. No. I don’t have a girlfriend.” I place my hand over the hand she has resting on top of her fork, but she pulls her hand away from mine so quickly she almost falls off her chair.
“Trace, let me explain.”
“There’s nothing to explain. It’s none of my business what you do or with whom you do it.” She pushes herself up from the table. “Thanks for dinner, guys. I’ll return the favor one of these nights. Need to get going. Got to finish my report,” she says in curt sentences sounding like someone told her Christmas was cancelled…forever. She walks out of the room.
“Nice. Dickhead.” Batt shakes his head and throws his napkin at Wolfe.
“What the flying fuck? Why does everyone keep throwing things at me? Sorry, Dak. Dude, I wasn’t thinking.”
“You never do, asshat. That’s the problem.” Dalt smacks him in the back of the head.
I didn’t stay to watch the rest of their interaction. I needed to stop Trace from leaving. There was no way I could l
et her go thinking I was another douche who was cheating on his girlfriend or even worse, doing what I did to her last night while I had a girlfriend.
I find her in the living room, swinging her backpack over her shoulder and brushing a finger under one eye. Christ. She’s crying.
“Tracey, please. We need to talk. You can’t leave like this.”
“Yes. I’m pretty sure I can.”
Closing the space between us in two steps, I clutch the tops of her arms and pull her into my chest. Pressed against me, she quivers. I see the questions in those doe eyes, the pained expression of ‘how could you?’
“No, you can’t.” I hold her tighter against me. “You don’t understand. It’s nothing like what you’re thinking. Come upstairs with me and give me a chance to explain.”
“You want me to go up to your bedroom with you so you can tell me about your girlfriend?” She sneers. “You must think I’m the same stupid girl I wa—” I crash my lips into hers to stop her from calling herself stupid again. For a second she leans into me in response and then she jerks back, pulling herself out of my arms.
“Stop it. Don’t kiss me…I can’t…”
“Trace.” I take her hand. “Please let me explain. I promise after I tell you everything if you want to go you’re free to leave. I won’t stop you. Please, just hear me out.” She doesn’t rip her hand out of mine this time, which I guess is a good sign.
I slip her backpack off her shoulder to carry it upstairs for her and grab the lantern off the table. The power isn’t back up yet so the rest of the house is pitch black. She doesn’t object when I lace my fingers in hers and lead her up to my room.
I’m glad I spent time cleaning it this morning, so at least the room is tidy. Except a neat room to impress Trace is the least of my worries at the moment. How do I begin to tell her about my relationship with Abbey and what happened? Once I do, will she still want to be friends with me?
CHAPTER
NINETEEN
Tracey
Now I get it. The shit he said he has to deal with and the ‘love’ he hopes he can find ‘again.’ The reason he keeps backing off; he has a girlfriend, or he did. Someone he loves. Here I thought he wasn’t into commitment and he didn’t want to have sex with me because he thought I deserved better than a casual hook up. Wrong again. He’s already committed…to someone else.
My head is spinning. Why the hell am I following him into his bedroom?
Will you never learn?
I guess not. I’m a big fool who keeps making the same bullshit mistakes over and over. My theory was wrong too, after all. I don’t always fall for gay guys, I fall for unavailable guys.
“Have a seat,” Dak says. He sounds nervous. What a joke, he’s nervous.
I look around the room. The décor is sparse, but clean for a guy’s room. A few surfing and hockey posters hang on the walls. The furnishings consist of a desk and chair, a tall chest of drawers, and a bed. It’s covered in a gray down comforter with matching sheets, and since the desk chair is piled high with clothes, unless I want to sit on the floor it’s the only place to sit.
Oh, what the hell. I slept next to him in a bed all night last night and the only time he touched me was when I begged him to. I sit on the edge of the bed, my hands on my lap and wait for the illusive explanation which is going to make everything between Dak and me okay.
The bed creaks in response to his muscled weight on the edge of the bed next to me. He rubs his hands over his face and keeps tapping his legs, but he hasn’t said a word.
I begin the conversation, because I want to get this over with and get as far away from him as possible. Well, as far away as the house next door, at least.
“I opened up to you about some of my deepest secrets last night and you didn’t think it might be a good idea to tell me about your girlfriend, Abbey, the girl you’re in love with?”
I’m going to talk to Professor Clancy tomorrow, there’s no way I can be lab partners with Dak for the rest of the semester. And we for sure aren’t skating together. Bri will be happy to know I can’t skate in the Winter Fest after all. Speaking of Bri, does this Abbey girl know how he’s cheating on her? I almost feel sorry for her. I wouldn’t wish that painful heartbreak on anyone.
I glance over at him in the middle of the pissed off verbal spew in my mind. His chest is heaving in shallow breaths like he’s trying to get the courage to speak. He’s scared…scared to tell me what he has to tell me.
“I…I don’t want to tell you this,” he says in a barely audible voice.
And I don’t want to be sitting here listening to your bullshit story.
“No. I’m sure you don’t. That’s obvious. Why—”
“I’m not in love with Abbey,” he says, his voice low. He’s staring down at the floor, leaning over his legs, arms resting on his thighs, his head dropped forward. “There is no Abbey. Not anymore,” he whispers.
“Did she break up with you?”
Probably the reason he’s whoring around with Bri and whoever else. He’s trying to get over a broken heart. The irony almost makes me snicker, but he seems to be hurting and even though he’s hurt me with his lies, I can’t be cruel.
“No. She didn’t break up with me,” he murmurs, still staring at the black carpet between his feet. “She died, and it’s my fault.”
I sit there speechless and let his words sink in. I can’t have heard him right. “What? What did you say?”
“I said, Abbey’s dead because of me.” He turns to me.
“I…I don’t understand. Wolfe said she’s your girlfriend,” I say in a softer voice, because now I know for sure he’s hurting and it’s for something much worse than a girl breaking up with him.
“She was my girlfriend and I did love her. It was three years ago. Freshman year.” He looks back down at the floor. “Abbey was…well she was great. Pretty, sweet…she was… kind of petite and fragile. She really loved me and depended on me to be there for her and I loved being there for her. We got hot and heavy pretty fast.”
My stomach is a balled knot as Dak explains his love for another girl, one who is no longer here. I hear the tenderness in his voice and the pain for her loss. This is so much more than my pain over what went down with Sean. Sean is alive and my memories of him are only as a complete asshole, not as someone sweet and worthy of my love. Dak says he’s responsible for her death! Whatever that means, it has to be a heavy burden to live with.
Once he begins to open up, the story pours out of him in an unrestrained flood.
“We were together for almost a year. Things were good. We were …I guess we were in love…a couple, always together. But Abbey…well…she wasn’t…she wasn’t into athletic activities. She…she didn’t like the water. It was okay. We had a good time together hanging out doing other things, but I couldn’t imagine someone not loving being out in nature on a river or in the ocean. I felt like she was missing something. I thought if I could get her out there she would see what she was missing. I could get her to love being on the water if I showed her how mind-blowing the scenery and experience was on the river. Maybe even take her kayaking and snorkeling at some point, even get her into the ocean and teach her how to surf.”
He stares across the room. His vacant gaze isn’t focused on anything. His eyes are blank liquid pools, only reflecting the imagery inside his head to himself.
“It was early spring, I needed to get some samples from the east branch of the Penobscot River for a project.” He closes his eyes like he’s reliving the scene in his head.
I don’t say a word. He listened to my whole sordid story last night and the result was cleansing, almost healing for me. The least I can do is allow him the same opportunity to purge his soul. Whatever he’s about to tell me, I owe him that much.
“The river waters were high from all the melt off. That area of the river can be tough when the waters are high, but I’d done it many times before so I didn’t think twice about taking out the canoe. I liked
using a canoe because it was easier than a kayak to maneuver along the bank and collect whatever specimens I needed.”
He’s clutching his hands together, still leaning forward on his legs. “Abbey didn’t want to go. She legit wasn’t into the water. I used to tease her, because she grew up on the coast of North Carolina and never got into water activities.” His eyes are clamped shut, and he gives his head a slow shake, like he’s disgusted with himself for having given Abbey a hard time for her lack of enthusiasm for the ocean.
“She kept telling me she wasn’t comfortable being in a canoe. But I knew she could swim. We had picnicked on some of the lakes and played around in the water. She was okay with being in the lakes. I insisted she would be fine, that she would love it and she could wear a life vest. Besides, I would be there and wouldn’t let anything happen to her.” His voice drops to an almost inaudible whisper.
I hate where this is going. My heart is pounding against my ribs. I want to reach out and hold him, tell him everything is fine. But it’s not fine. His shoulders are beginning to shake and tears are spilling over onto his cheeks. He’s falling apart in front of me and I don’t know if it’s my place to comfort him. He opens his eyes and runs his hand over his face to brush back the tears, though he still doesn’t turn to look at me. He keeps staring straight ahead at empty air.
“I launched the canoe far enough down on the trail so we would be beyond white water. The current was crazy strong there too, though, and Abbey was still extremely nervous. I kept pointing things out to her, trying to get her to relax and take in the beautiful things all around us. I rowed closer to the shoreline to collect some plant life and Abbey stood up to try to move toward me. I don’t know if she thought we were going to get out of the canoe or if she was just trying to get closer to me. I don’t know what the fuck she was doing…I never got a chance to ask her. The last thing I heard her say before we went over was ‘Dak, I want…’”
He rubs his hands over his face and then he leaves his face buried in the palms of his hands. His pain is palpable. I reach out and touch his arm to remind him I’m here, despite knowing it’s not nearly enough. His muscle tenses under my touch, but his only response is to continue telling me about the horrific memory unfolding inside his mind.
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