Unexpected Protector (Isthmus Alliance)

by Sloan Johnson

  “Why am I just now hearing that you’re dating someone?” I ask, trying to hide the anxiety consuming me. This is what I’ve hoped for with her, right? So why is it scaring the shit out of me?

  “Oh, you know… He’s a pretty private person,” she giggles. I seriously consider pulling out my phone and recording that sound so I can listen to it any time I need a little pick-me-up. If I did and I sent it to Tasha, I imagine she would do the same thing. She’s told me more times than I can count that she never thought she would see Holly make her way out of the darkness. “But I can ask him to come and have dinner at the house sometime if that would make you feel better.”

  By mid-afternoon, I feel as though I’m losing my mind. I hate not knowing how Holly is doing, what she’s doing, if she’s okay. It’s times like these when I feel more like her parent than her boyfriend.

  Holly is my girlfriend. Holy crap. I think back, trying to remember the last time there was someone in my life I called my girlfriend. I’ve spent so much time focusing on what I thought I wanted in life that having someone to share it with didn’t seem important. And now look at me, I have someone to share my life with and I’m sitting around watching court shows on the television while she’s out trying to better her life. How pathetic is that?

  Before I go completely insane, I call Dylan and invite him to meet me at Ale Asylum, a brewpub not too far from the school. I don’t want to be late picking up Holly and I know myself well enough to know that’s exactly what will happen if I’m not careful. This way, I’ll be fine as long as I leave a few minutes before her last class lets out.

  When Dylan walks in, I’ve already put quarters in the pool table and there’s a pitcher of beer on a table in the corner. “So, you wanna tell me why we’re all the way out here?” Dylan asks as he approaches me. I wish I knew how to close the chasm that’s been growing between us lately. I know part of it is that we’re both finally getting to the point in our lives where we want different things than we did when we were younger, but I know that’s not all of it.

  “Holly gets done with school at five and I have to pick her up,” I respond, carefully gauging his reaction.

  “Okay, so again, why are we all the way out here? Can’t she take the bus home?” Obviously, he’s still not over his disdain for her. I’m sure the fact that Tasha convinced him to give Holly the money for school didn’t help. I told him I would take care of it, but he shot down that idea, probably because he’s hoping this is some fleeting sex-driven fling that doesn’t stand a chance of seeing her through to graduation.

  “Dylan, you really have to chill about her,” I warn him. I get why he’s upset, but he’s allowing that anger to cloud his vision when it comes to how hard she’s been working since getting out of the hospital. If there’s one thing I’ve learned about Dylan Caprese, it’s that once he makes up his mind about someone, it’s almost impossible for him to change his opinion. But this is one time he needs to, for everyone’s sake.

  He slams back the first glass of beer, quickly refilling it. “See, you and Tasha keep telling me that, but here’s the thing… She’s the one who fucked up. She’s the one that almost got herself killed. She’s the one who almost got Tasha hurt. She’s the one who put the woman I love in such a bad place that she wakes up screaming most nights, thinking about what Nick did to both of them and imagining what would have happened if we hadn’t come when we did. So no, I don’t have to chill, as you put it.”

  I break the pool balls, not sinking a single one. I’m too pissed off to focus on the game. It’s the first time I’ve truly been tempted to punch Dylan square in the jaw. He needs it. He needs to realize that he hasn’t always been perfect and there are people in his life we would put up with, simply because they’re related to him.

  The entire conversation with him throws me into another time. A time when he would have been the one urging me to forgive someone. I’m not sure I ever did forgive Liam, but I eventually forgave Dylan’s brother for the accident that took my sister away from me. I was only nine the night two officers showed up at our front door, long after midnight, informing my parents that there had been an accident. Dylan’s brother had been driving the car, speeding because they were late coming home from a party and Maria, my older sister, was worried about what would happen if Dad caught her sneaking in again. It had become a weekly occurrence; Maria sneaking in because Liam liked to test authority, our father sitting in his recliner waiting for the front door to open and then the two of them fighting in the living room until she accepted her punishment.

  Imagine my surprise when I got my discharge papers from the Army and came home to enter the police academy. The very first night, Zeke told me we were going out to see a buddy of his, someone he met in college who had introduced him to this other side of himself. The minute we walked into the bar, I was consumed with murderous rage.

  “What the fuck are you doing?” I ask Zeke, swallowing back the bile rising in my chest. Of all the fuckers he could be hanging out with, he’s friends with the prick who took Maria from us. It’s this asshole’s fault my mom cried every day for over a year because her first-born child was buried at the edge of town.

  Zeke gawks at me, trying to figure out what I’m so upset about. “Dude, you need to relax. You’re strung so tight you’re going to snap and go flying across the fucking room soon.”

  “Do NOT tell me to relax. How can you be friends with him?” I yell, pointing to the bald man Zeke waved to when we walked through the door. “Don’t you know who he is?”

  “Yeah, I do,” Zeke says calmly. That pisses me off even more. He’s standing here acting as if I’m the one doing something wrong. He’s the one getting all cozy with a murderer. “But I’ll guaran-damn-tee you have no fucking clue.”

  Zeke wraps his arm around my neck, pulling me deeper into the dimly lit bar. My feet are heavy; every step closer to the man who ripped my family apart at the seams is harder than the last.

  My cousin glares at me as we approach the bar. “Tommy, I’d like you to meet Dylan Caprese. Dylan, this is my cousin, Tommy Reed.”

  “Nice to meet you, Tommy,” Dylan says, extending his hand to me. I stand there staring at his hand, then glancing at his face, certain there has been some sort of mistake. I would have bet my life this was Liam.

  The feeling of Zeke’s hand meeting the back of my head pulls me out of my thoughts. “Dude, don’t be a rude little bitch,” he criticizes me. “Dylan’s a good shit as long as you don’t piss him off.”

  “Sorry,” I say to both of them. “I, uh, I thought you were someone else.”

  “Yeah, I figured,” Dylan responds coolly. “I get that a lot. One of the hazards of being Liam’s brother, I guess.”

  The sound of Liam’s name is like a punch in the gut. If it was a simple case of mistaken identity, that would be one thing, but no, I’m standing in front of Liam’s brother. The spitting image of the young man I’ve spent more than half my life hating.

  If I’m being honest, I’ve even gotten to a point where I can admit that what happened was an accident. Liam didn’t intend to lose control of the car going around a curve, hitting a tree at nearly full speed, which sent Maria through the windshield.

  “Whatever,” I say, completely disgusted and regretting my decision to spend the afternoon with Dylan. I should have called Zeke, but I thought, and still do think, that Dylan and I need this time. He’s too much of a brother to me to write him off and if I’m keeping Holly around and Tasha keeps his grumpy ass around, we’re going to have to get past our shit. “Get another pitcher. I’ll be back. And while I’m gone, you need to think long and hard about why I’m so fucking pissed right now.”

  I won’t throw Liam in his face, but I’m hoping he’s intelligent enough to figure it out on his own. I head back to the restrooms, looking over my shoulder to see him glaring at me. Yeah, he totally knows what I’m getting at.

  “Holly, can you get that?”

  I look at Tommy’s cell ph
one, vibrating its way across the counter. After glancing at the display, I really don’t want to pick it up. Dylan and I have never been close, and I’m starting to feel like the harder I work to fix myself, the more pissed off he gets.

  “Holly!” Tommy yells from the basement. I grab the phone and click the connect button, not wanting my bullshit to cause problems between Tommy and me. For once in my life, I have someone who isn’t constantly pissed off at me and I’d like to keep it that way.

  “Hello?”

  My greeting is met by silence on the other end of the line. Does he really loathe me so much that he can’t even bring himself to talk to me on the phone?

  “Holly?” he asks, rather stupidly since there aren’t any other women that would answer Tommy’s phone.

  “Yeah, what’s up?” I’m trying hard to be cordial, but it’s hard. He’s the only one still giving me the cold shoulder and I’m getting tired of it. It’s easy to say it doesn’t matter, but it does. I’m almost a month into school now and I’ve busted my ass every single day to make sure I’m doing what I need to in order to keep my grades up. I haven’t touched anything since the night at Nick’s.

  “I… uh…” This is the first time I’ve heard Dylan at a loss for words. Sure, it might be because I’ve caught him off guard by answering Tommy’s phone, but that doesn’t make it any less fun.

  The game quickly gets old, so I decide to rescue him from this awkward moment. “Tommy’s just coming up the stairs, hang on.”

  I’m a bit surprised by his response. Okay, more like shocked, but I won’t admit that freely. “Actually, I need to talk to you.”

  If I hadn’t been sitting at the breakfast bar doing my homework, I may have fallen over. Why would Dylan want to talk to me? We have this awesome thing going where we avoid each other at all costs, realizing that it’s easier if Tommy and Tasha do the talking for us.

  “Um, okay. What’s up?”

  “Could we meet for dinner later?” Okay, so that was completely out of the fucking blue. “We need to talk about some shit, and I’d rather not do it over the phone.”

  “Yeah, I can ask Tommy what time works for him and have him call you,” I say, even though I get the feeling a double date isn’t what Dylan has in mind.

  “No,” Dylan says firmly. “This needs to be you and me. No Tommy, no Tasha. Can you meet me at Last Chance at six-thirty?”

  Tommy comes up behind me, slinking his arms around my waist. “Everything okay?” He whispers in the ear not connected to the phone. I nod, even though I’m anything but okay right now. I can only imagine what Dylan has to say to me that he doesn’t want to say in front of his girlfriend and one of his best friends. It can’t be anything good.

  “Sure, that sounds fine,” I confirm. Dylan tells me he’ll see me then and hangs up.

  I press the end button and stare at the phone for a moment. I’m still not sure that really just happened.

  “What’s going on, Babygirl?” Tommy takes the phone out of my hand, checking for the most recent call. “What did he say that has you upset?”

  The fact that Tommy starts pacing in the kitchen does nothing to help me calm down. I feel a panic attack brewing beneath the surface and I can’t take him freaking out too.

  “Nothing,” I say out of habit more than anything else. Dylan didn’t say if this was some sort of covert meeting, so I don’t want to tell Tommy about it. But that makes me feel like shit because we promised one another complete honesty, agreeing it is the only way to make things work between us. “Actually, it’s not nothing,” I correct myself. “He wants me to meet him for dinner. Can I borrow your truck?”

  Looking at Tommy’s face, I can tell he’s just about as thrilled by the idea as I am, maybe less so, if that’s possible. He sits down on the stool next to me, turning my seat so I’m facing him. “Baby, are you sure that’s a good idea?”

  I don’t look at him; I can’t. Without realizing it, Tommy has gained this control over me, this ability to sway my decisions to what he feels is best for me. Most of the time, it’s okay because not once has he done that for his own benefit. It has always truly been what’s best for me, not for him or for us. But right now, I don’t think either of us is thinking clearly. Something has been off between him and Dylan for a few weeks now. He won’t talk about it, but there’s definitely trouble in their version of paradise.

  We sit silently in the kitchen while I think about what Dylan is asking of me, what Tommy feels I should do and what I want and/or need to do. Finally, I lift my head so I’m looking directly at him, wrapping my arms around his neck. “I know you worry about me,” I say sweetly. “But I feel like I need to do this. Don’t ask me why, but now that I’ve thought about it, I don’t think it’s a bad thing. Maybe this is what we all need. After all, the problems aren’t between you and Dylan, or Dylan and Tasha; they’re between Dylan and me.”

  Tommy starts to say something, but I place a finger over his lips. “Let me finish, please. Until that night, things were fine. I can’t change what I did back then, but if there’s even a chance I can fix things now for the future, I’m going to do it.”

  When I came up the stairs to see who was on the phone, I nearly ripped it out of Holly’s hand. She was physically shaking, her voice weak as she agreed to meet with whoever it was. The first thing that came to mind was that it was someone from her past and they had somehow gotten my number. Not a rational thought, I know, but who else could elicit that type of reaction from her?

  Knowing that it was Dylan on the line pisses me off even more. Whatever he said caused this reaction and I will never forgive him if I have to spend the evening rocking Holly, soothing her back down from an attack. Not that I have a problem with holding her close and whispering in her ear, I just prefer to do it because I want to, not because she’s having an episode.

  I try talking her out of meeting him without me there, but she won’t hear of it. She insists that she’s going to give him what he wants and she’ll meet him alone. At least they’re meeting in a public place. The fact that he books bands at the club where they’re meeting makes me feel marginally better because I don’t see him doing anything stupid there. He’s already on thin ice with them because of—

  “Wait a fucking minute.” My voice booms off the high ceilings. I hate myself a little when I see Holly cower away from me. “Baby, I’m sorry,” I say, forcing myself to use a quieter voice.

  Dylan’s just enough of an asshole that I doubt it’s a coincidence that they’re meeting at the same club where Holly lured Tasha away. Sadistic fuck.

  “You’re not meeting him there,” I tell her forcefully. I can count on one hand the number of times I’ve demanded anything of her without leaving room for negotiation. This is one of those times.

  I grab my phone and slam the door to the three-season porch open. It’s cold enough to freeze the nuts off a bridge out here, but it’s the only place where Holly won’t hear the ass chewing I’m going to give Dylan.

  “What the fuck game are you playing at?” I ask the second he picks up the phone.

  “Nice to talk to you, too,” he replies. “Now, wanna tell me what you mean by games?”

  If he thinks I’m this stupid, it may be time to re-evaluate my friendship with him. I wouldn’t stand by and watching him mindfuck anyone without stepping in, but he’s not even going to get the chance with Holly. She’s too fragile. Just going back there could easily be enough to make her crack.

  “Nice touch, asshole,” I seethe. “Asking her to meet you at the club. What the fuck is that about? You going to have her walk you through what happened that night? See if you can fuck with her head the way she fucked with yours when Tasha was gone?”

  As I’m yelling, my mind is running through Dylan’s possible justifications for why this was okay. None of them came through the phone. “Fuck,” he groans. “Yeah, okay. I see what you’re saying, but Tommy, you have to believe me, I didn’t plan it that way.”

  “Oh, it�
��s just a happy coincidence that you asked her to meet you there? Out of how many bars and restaurants in Madison, that just happens to be the first one you thought of?” If Dylan was standing in front of me, I swear he’d be lying on the ground with no less than a split lip. I’m starting to wonder if I know him at all.