by L. L. Akers
“You were just a kid. Both of you were... living in that trailer, partying all the time. I’m not surprised you don’t remember me. I was there several times with a buddy of mine but always late, after the bars had closed. We could usually count on Daniel to have booze, so we hung out there sometimes. I didn’t know that was you when I pulled you over—not until I looked in your car window and you turned those eyes on me. It’s been years and you’ve changed a lot, but even then you were beautiful.”
“Then—I was drunk, Dusty,” Emma exclaimed. “Why didn’t you tell me this before? Like when I was confessing my drinking issues to you at the restaurant?”
Although it was dark, the moon was shining just enough to see a tear slowly roll down Emma’s cheek. Oh shit, Dusty thought. I made her cry. Damn.
“Um, I don’t know. I guess I figured it’d come up sooner or later. I didn’t realize you wouldn’t remember me at all. I thought maybe you were just not mentioning it because you were—”
“Embarrassed? Yes, I am embarrassed, Dusty. That was a bad time for me. You have no idea. I self-medicated with alcohol. I had a problem. I don’t remember anyone who hung out there, unless they got there before dark. After dark, I was hiding from my demons in the bottle.”
Dusty didn’t know what the right thing to say would be. Sure, he remembered Emma was always drunk. He’d even helped carry her to bed a few times when Daniel was too drunk himself to do it. But he’d always kept an eye on her when he was there.
“When did you stop... um, drinking so much?” Dusty asked.
“Not soon enough,” Emma snapped.
“Can I ask... was it because of Daniel? Did he hurt you? He always seemed to take such good care of you—when he was sober.”
“No, it wasn’t because of him. Actually, he tried to save me from myself. Daniel was a good guy. I have nothing bad to say about him. He held on as long as he could, and when he didn’t see me getting sober, he moved on. I still see him sometimes—a lot, actually.”
Dusty’s eyebrows rose at that.
“I didn’t say that right. Me and Daniel are just friends. I was fourteen when we started living together, Dusty. I clung to him to escape from my own childhood. I grew up too fast. That’s why I’m better off alone. I’ve had a hard past—from before Daniel. I got sober. I rarely ever drink anymore. But I can never change my past,” Emma quietly said.
In the dim light, Dusty could see the shine of more tears silently falling down her cheeks, dripping off to probably land on her shirt, and the slight tremors in her body. He wanted to reach over and wipe them away. But he could sense her shutting herself off and felt more than saw that it was not a good time to touch her or comfort her. It was obvious she was trying not to cry in front of him. Her voice was still strong and steady, and Dusty had seen that before. Whatever happened to her before Daniel had hardened her, made her into a survivor. And many times survivors confused tears for weakness—something to avoid at all costs.
“You don’t know what it’s like, Dusty. To have people who really didn’t know me remember me as that girl. I see the way they look at me, and I feel their judgment. But they don’t know my story so they just make up their own. I can hear their whispered lies. Funny thing, though, the truth is worse than their lies, so I just let them stand. That’s why I don’t get close to anyone... and why I don’t do relationships. There’s too much explaining to be done, and I don’t want to have to explain myself. I am what I am, and I think I’m just meant to be alone.”
“I like who you are, Emma. I think you came through it all right. I disagree with you. You’re not better off alone. No one is better alone. Everybody needs somebody.”
“I have somebody—my family,” Emma answered firmly, turning back toward the front and putting her legs down. Closing him off. Dusty felt desperation seep into him; he had pushed her away before he’d even caught her. He watched her swipe at the tears on her face with the back of her hand and then move to straighten her hair, proudly trying to hide the gesture.
“True,” Dusty answered. “But you can still get lonely, even if you’re not alone. Family can only be so much to you. Sometimes people need... more. I know I do.”
“Dusty, thanks for dinner. Can you take me back to my car?” Emma asked quietly.
Dusty started the car and backed up, turning around to head back toward the security shack. His thoughts were racing. She’s never going to go out with me again. I screwed it up. Why didn’t I keep my big mouth shut? Stupid, stupid, stupid... She didn’t even remember me. I told her for nothing. She didn’t even have to know. What if she never goes out with me again? Dammit all to hell!
He slammed on the brakes and turned to Emma.
“Emma, I screwed that up. I should’ve told you up front we’d met before, whether you remembered me or not. I’m sorry. I want to see you again,” he said desperately.
He didn’t think she was going to answer; the pause was so long. Finally, still staring straight ahead, she said, “Dusty, I have baggage. I’m no good for you.”
“I don’t care about your baggage, Emma. I like you. I’ll take my chances. Stop thinking you know what’s good for me—I know you’re good for me.”
The sounds of the crickets and the bullfrogs seemed to get louder and louder as Dusty sat there, his foot on the brake, the car running, waiting for her answer... but all he got was silence.
“Emma, you can surrender, you know.”
“Surrender to what?” Emma answered, starting out her window and avoiding his eyes.
“Back in the day... when you were living out on your own, with Daniel. The girl I saw then always seemed to be waging war with herself. You’re not that girl anymore, but you’re still armored and ready for battle.”
“I won the battle, Dusty. I guess you don’t see that.”
“It’s not about what I see. I told you I like the person you are. Hell, I liked the girl you were then. You had spirit. You just needed to find a way to harness it, and you have now. It’s about what you're still seeing. Why are you still fighting against your past, fighting yourself? What’s it going to take to prove to yourself that you’ve won?”
Emma sighed loudly. “You know something, Dusty? I deserve a freakin’ medal for making it through that shit and not stabbing someone with a fork. Now I don’t want to talk about it anymore.,” she said.
She leaned her head against the window and closed her eyes. Her arms were crossed tightly against her chest. “Just take me to my car, Dusty.”
Guess that’s the end. He sighed, feeling helpless, wishing he could turn back the clock and delete the last hour from their date, but he’d blown it. The way she sat there so cold and quiet told him that she was done. He took his foot off the brake and drove on, returning her to her car.
Dusty was adamant he wanted to follow her home to make sure she made it safely. She wished he’d just go on, and leave her alone. She was humiliated that he’d seen the way she was before, when she was that girl. But even worse, she couldn’t stop wanting him anyway. Why does life always have to suck for me?
She wanted to crawl in the bed and curl up like a ball. She wanted her mother. Her mom was strong and could talk her through this, but she was a big girl now, and her empty apartment awaited her.
As she drove, she thought back to the faint reflection of the moon shimmering on the lake, parked in front of the calm water with the bullfrogs croaking, feeling the closeness of Dusty in that front seat, breathing his masculine smell—the whole scene was so intoxicating. She had wanted to give in to his need to comfort her. She’d felt him getting ready to reach out to her. She’d known it was coming, so she’d thrown up a wall before her body took over her brain. She was afraid to soften, afraid that she would take more than his comfort, and then she wouldn’t be able to easily walk away.
He was right; she was lonely—so lonely. The first few years after Daniel left, after she’d gotten sober, she’d had her hands full. He’d helped her whenever she really needed he
lp, but for the most part, she was still alone. She didn’t miss Daniel. It was only the last few years she’d really felt the absence of a man in her life at all.
Emma pulled into her parking spot in front of her apartment. Dusty pulled in beside her in the empty space that was also assigned to her. He met her at the sidewalk and she met his serious look with a small smile. It was sweet he was still intent on making sure she was safely locked inside, especially after she acted like an idiot to him. She opened the door, stepping in to drop her purse and keys on the entry table. Before turning back to say good-bye to Dusty, she was caught by her image in the matching mirror hanging just above the table. She looked at herself for just a moment, she thought, but the image looking back captured her attention and held it, reminding her who she was... or had been.
The girl staring back at Emma through the streaked glass was the scared, broken Emma of her past, still there to remind her of whom she really was... and why she couldn't—shouldn't—invite Dusty in. She was blemished on the inside, marked, even if only she could see it. Dusty was a good guy. He deserved someone better—someone who didn’t have baggage—and he would eventually realize it and leave her even more broken if she let him in.
She broke her stare, turning back around to see Dusty had stepped in uninvited. But she gave him a small smile, hoping they could at least be friends. "Goodnight, Dusty. Thanks for walking me in." She held out her hand, intent on giving him a friendly shake. Keep it platonic, Emma, she thought. This one's not meant for you.
Dusty ignored the gesture, putting his own hands on her shoulders. At his touch, a little gasp slipped out of her. She looked up, knowing he was going to kiss her. Before she could put words to her objection, she lost herself in his eyes, mesmerized by the flecks of gold peppered in the gray. The warmth of his hands on her shoulders was sending sparks spiraling downward. She shuddered as the sparks rapidly kindled into flame at her core; she hadn't felt such a delicious heat for so long. It made her want to forget about her past, forget about that girl in the mirror, and just melt into him, even for just one night. She closed her eyes in anticipation, not sure she had the strength to push him away, and unconsciously pushed her lower body into his.
"I saw that look you gave yourself, Emma," Dusty whispered in her ear as he gently turned her back around to face the mirror. "Now look again and tell me what you see."
The unexpected spin caused the flame to hastily move from her core to her face, burning in embarrassment. He had to have seen her close her eyes, knowing exactly what she was expecting and knowing she had intended to let him. Oh my God, he must think I’m an idiot at best and a slut at worst.
She tried to focus on his question. What do I see? She couldn't answer. She could never explain to him the images that still haunted her.
"Okay, then. I'll tell you what I see. I see a beautiful, smart woman. A warm-hearted, spirited woman who's grown beyond her past. Not a broken child. It's time you see what everyone else does," he whispered before turning her back around and leaning in to softly kiss her lips.
The kiss was quick, closed mouth, but in a second, Emma felt a wave of wet desire roll through her. She wanted him to finish the kiss and more. She ached with hopefulness that he would gather her up and carry her to bed and just scratch the itch that had been nagging at her since she’d met him. To hell with a relationship; she just needed one night.
She was half a breath away from pleading for him to do just that when he pulled away and looked down at her, putting his fingers to her lips.
“Lock up tight,” he said.
Then he backed up the few steps that took him out the door, smoothly turned around, and left, leaving Emma staring out into the night, feeling a mixture of confusion and loss and a fierce and throbbing need for him.
CHAPTER 20
Emma sat in one of the little, hard chairs at a bistro table in the internet/coffee café a block from the studio. She stared into her drink, her thoughts whirling. She barely noticed the chatter and noise around her as she thought again about Dusty.
He hadn’t been in class today. She had hoped he’d call or text her, but nothing. She must’ve looked at her phone a thousand times during class and before and after a particularly exhausting voice-session at work—nothing unusual; it was just that she’d had no energy after thinking all night about Dusty and then worrying all day. He didn’t look the type to cut class. He seemed like such a responsible kinda guy. Wonder if cutting class had anything to do with me? Maybe he just didn’t want to see me? He probably doesn’t want to deal with any more of my drama. Instead of showing him I wasn’t “that girl,” I probably proved I was with that pissed-off and pouty attitude I showed him last night...
Emma bit her bottom lip as last night’s events circled in her mind. I did act like an immature little bitch, but still... he kissed me. Does that mean he’s still interested? But if he’s still interested, why hasn’t he called or texted me?
She rolled her neck, trying to work out the kinks, taking the opportunity to gaze around the café again, her eyes not settling on anyone or anything for more than a nanosecond. She tried to push thoughts of Dusty away, but they swept back in.
Finally, a guy she was actually interested in... She knew it would happen one day; she knew she couldn’t—or wouldn’t—stay in her own little world forever, never letting anyone else in, protecting her heart. She’d never truly given her heart away to a man before. Sure, she’d had a special kind of love for Daniel, but not head over heels in love. She hadn’t known the difference when she was only fourteen and needing someone—anyone. Daniel had helped her get out on her own, start a new life as an adult, away from the turmoil of her childhood. But then they’d both actually grown up and, with that, grown apart. Emma inwardly laughed. Yeah, right... we were such grownups... drinking and partying and never worrying about any consequences.
She sighed. There was so much she would go back and change if she could—not everything, but a lot of it. And sure, she was lonely sometimes—he hadn’t been far off that mark last night—but she had more than enough in her life to keep her from being alone. So he hadn’t called.
The end, Emma. Get over it.
She shook her head. But that kiss... That’s why I can’t get him out of my head. I just need to not see him anymore. Keep my simple, busy life the way it is, she thought. I’ve got the rest of my life to find someone. There’ll be another Dusty, she argued with her thoughts wistfully.
Someone tapped her on the shoulder, startling her out of her thoughts. “Hey.”
She recognized his voice before she turned around. “Oh! Dusty. Hi. What’re you doing here? And why weren’t you in class today?” As soon as it left her mouth, she regretted it. He’d probably think she was too nosy.
“Just happened to come out and saw you sitting in here. I meant to mention last night that I had a mandatory training at work I had to attend today. I just got out. Are you waiting for someone?” Dusty asked while looking around the cozy little cafe.
Emma raised her eyebrows. “You just happened to come here?”
Dusty shrugged his shoulders and looked away. “Okay,” he answered, looking properly embarrassed. “You caught me. I saw your car outside and took a chance. So are you...? With someone, that is?” Dusty ran his hand through his hair while his eyes flicked around the café again, as if he were looking for someone. He let out a long breath while his eyes darted around.
Her heart thumped to hear him admit he was looking for her; the thought of him seeking her out gave her a warm feeling inside and shot her mood straight from melancholy to hopeful.
“No. It’s just me tonight. I had a few hours to myself after work and didn’t want to sit at home. Have a seat,” she offered, waving her hand to the chair across from her.
She watched as he folded his big frame into the little bistro chair. She giggled.
“What?” he asked.
“Nothing,” Emma answered while looking away.
“No, really. W
hat’s funny?”
“You. Sitting in that chair. You’re just a really big guy for that little bitty chair,” Emma answered, trying not to laugh.
“I know, right? Why is it these places always have tiny chairs?” Dusty looked around at the other people sitting and talking or tapping away on their laptops and tablets. “I’m like... the biggest guy here. I guess it’s true that coffee stunts your growth.” Dusty wiggled in the chair and hunched over the table. He appeared to be trying to make himself smaller... less noticeable.
Emma laughed at his joke. “You want one... a coffee or something?” she asked, grasping at his joke to open a conversation, hoping to make him more at ease.
“Naw, I’m good. What about you? You looked deep in thought in here when I first saw you,” he said, his eyes searching her face. Emma looked down, unable to meet his gaze. “Penny for your thoughts?” he asked, reaching into this pocket and pulling out a penny and then sliding it across the table toward her.
Emma put her finger on the penny, twirling it in tight little circles on the table, keeping her eyes on it instead of Dusty and his uneasy perch.
“Nothing worth buying here,” she finally answered. She looked up and gave him a small smile, hoping he wouldn’t persist in knowing her thoughts. She was dying to ask him why he hadn’t called; however, she was pretty sure he’d interpreted her actions at the boat landing to mean she didn’t want to see him again—so it was on her. But that was before the kiss. Now she didn’t know what she wanted. She was stoked that he’d cared enough to stop when he saw her car, and he was sitting here... Dammit. This is so complicated! Yes, I want him, she thought to herself, but if—or when—he knows everything about me, he’ll just walk.
She slowly slid the penny back to his side and crossed her arms tightly against her chest.
Dusty looked disappointed as he placed his own finger on the penny. He caught her attention as he began to slide it in long, lazy figure-eights, his big hands, his long fingers, the one low-hanging light over their table seeming to be spotlighting this in slow motion. Emma imagined that hand on her, tracing that same pattern on her bare stomach, slowly heating her up, like he did last night.