by L A Cotton
All I had now was me.
Mikey, Dawson, and the blond-haired guy they’d been with at Shakers were huddled around a laptop when I entered the room. Their heads shot up and the blond closed the lid casually, but I caught their expressions. Like I’d caught them red-handed, only I wasn’t sure what I’d walked into. The blond relaxed back in the chair tucking his hands behind his head; Dawson stood rigidly, and Mikey smiled weakly and said, “Coffee?”
I shook my head tucking a loose strand of hair behind my ear. My heart beat so hard I felt sure they could all hear it, but no one said anything. Dawson just stared at me, his blue eyes burning into me. Seconds ticked by. Each one more torturous than the one before. The blond and Mikey glanced back and forth between us; I felt them staring, but I couldn’t tear my eyes away from him.
Dawson.
How had we ended up here, like two strangers across enemy lines? It felt wrong.
So wrong.
“Well, as much as I’m enjoying all the tension and silence,” the blond spoke, pushed his chair away from the table, and bounded toward me. “I’m Lex. Nice to meet you.” He held out his hand and grinned down at me.
“Uh, hi,” I murmured, uncomfortable that he knew more about me than I about him.
“Joy, right?” he asked letting go of my hand. “Dawson’s told me all about you.”
He has?
My eyes flickered to Dawson, who was staring at me. Right. At. Me. My eyes dropped and I wrapped my arms around my waist. I wanted to appear okay—in control of this screwed-up situation—but with him sitting there staring at me like he’d seen a ghost—or worse—I couldn’t do it.
I couldn’t think straight.
“Nice to meet you.” I attempted a smile, but it was impossible. I never expected to wake up nursing a comedown while standing across from the guy who made my life so much better.
My old life.
“You sure you don’t want coffee?” Lex asked yanking me from my memories. “You look like you could use some.” He pulled out a chair and motioned for me to sit. I dropped into the seat looking anywhere but at Dawson.
“So you work at Hank’s?” Lex took the seat across from me. I nodded, not sure where he was headed with all the questions. “Best breakfast I’ve had in a while.”
“Hey, I heard that,” Mikey called over his shoulder. “There’s nothing wrong with my pancakes.”
Lex’s eyebrow arched, and he shot me a smirk. He’d obviously experienced Mikey’s chaotic cooking style, which made me wonder what else he knew. Mikey placed four mugs on the table, and I pulled one toward me. Heat seeped out of it and I curled my hand around it focusing on the burn.
“I’m sorry I never made it to your mom’s funeral.” I gulped back my guilt, surprised at the way the words tumbled out of my mouth. I hadn’t planned to say them, not really. At least, not yet. Not with three guys watching me like I might shatter at any second.
Mikey took the seat next to me and mumbled something under his breath. I couldn’t bring myself to meet Dawson’s eyes. He already knew too much—had witnessed too much. The room started to close in around me, and I pushed back into the chair trying to get some distance.
“Sorry I can’t stick around, but I have to get back. Thank you.” I flashed Mikey a half-smile trying to convey my gratitude. I hadn’t planned to run off like this, but all of a sudden, I couldn’t breathe. I needed air.
I needed to get the hell away from Dawson’s scrutiny.
Turning away from Lex, I started for the front door ignoring the low whispers behind me. Another chair scraped across the floor and I knew it was Dawson. My feet moved quicker and I yanked open the door and hurried down the path to the sidewalk.
“Joy, wait up, just wait …”
I heard his voice call after me. My heart pleaded with me to stay—to hear him out—but I didn’t turn back. Dawson was my past. But it was more than that. He was part of a different Joy’s memories. The girl I used to be. A girl who no longer existed.
He wasn’t part of my present.
Not anymore.
Dawson didn’t follow me. Mikey texted a couple of times, but I ignored him as I made my way back to my neighborhood. The shower had cleared my head some, but I still felt a little jittery. I hugged myself tighter keeping my head low as I crossed Hefner and turned right onto my block. I’d contemplated heading straight to Sherri’s because I didn’t trust myself to be alone—not after seeing Dawson—but I couldn’t risk running into Donnie yet.
I needed time.
What I really needed was for Dawson to get the hell out of Chancing. His presence here wouldn’t end well for anyone. There was too much history. Unfinished business between him and Donnie—I saw it burning in their eyes in Shakers. So much left unsaid between the two of us. Not that, after all these years, there was any hope of finding a resolution. I was with Donnie now.
Donnie DeLuca.
Four years ago, I would have laughed at the very idea of it. He was our friend—best friend—not someone I could ever imagine being with. He wasn’t strong and confident like Dawson back then. He was quiet and meek and preferred the shadows to the limelight. He didn’t wear his name with pride; he carried it like a noose around his neck. Dawson was the one who shone, who people loved and respected and gravitated to. And I had been his.
My apartment building came into view and I shut down that dangerous line of thought. I was Dawson’s no longer. My hand reached for my purse and met empty space, and I cursed into the cool air. I had no purse, which meant I had no key. Mikey must have used the spare I kept underneath the doormat. But what were the chances he had returned it after leaving with me? I padded up the stairs to my door and peeled back the corner of the mat unable to stop the slight smile tugging at my lips. Of course, he’d returned they key—trusty, reliable Mikey Spencer.
At one time, Dawson was the person I depended on. He was my person; the guy who made life that little bit better. But that was a long time ago, and now, we were nothing to each other.
Liar.
Guilt coiled itself around my heart and the cautious voice inside my head had me glancing around the place before I slipped inside my apartment. The last thing I needed was for Donnie to find out I stayed at Mikey’s last night. He wouldn’t care about the reasons why I wasn’t here all night. Just like he didn’t care about the marks on my face. The marks he put there. Donnie only ever saw what he wanted to see, what suited him. But he would care about me sleeping under the same roof as Dawson. He knew I went to Mikey’s occasionally. I’d begged him to let me have the Spencer’s as a place to run to when things got too much. He didn’t like it, didn’t approve, but he’d eventually conceded. That was when Dawson was out of the picture, though. Now, now, he wouldn’t want me anywhere near Mikey or his house … or his younger brother.
Everything was different now. The apartment looked the same, smelled the same, but it felt tainted. Wrong. It had never felt like home. Home didn’t exist anymore; it hadn’t since Grams died, but it had been my space. The one place I could shut out the rest of the world and pretend that my life was still my own. I’d crossed a line—one I promised myself I wouldn’t cross. The drink, the drugs, it was my way of coping around Donnie; it made things easier with him, but I never brought that shit into my own space.
Ignoring the red flash of the answering machine, I went straight into the bedroom and kicked off my shoes, changed into some shorts and a tank, and climbed into bed. Exhaustion seeped into every cell of my body, only I wasn’t sure if it was the comedown or the aftermath of coming face to face with Dawson. Just the thought of his name had my eyes fluttering shut and my heart beating faster. How was it possible that I still felt this way after everything?
I didn’t have time to think about it. The knock on the front door startled me and my head shot up. No one visited my place except for Donnie or Sherri, on the odd occasion. But it wasn’t either of them. I felt it all the way down to my soul. There was only one person standing on th
e other side of my door.
And it was the last person I wanted to see.
The shocked look on her face was almost comical; I was the last person she’d expected to show up on her doorstep. But she wasn’t the only one surprised—even I wasn’t sure why I was standing there. It hadn’t been a conscious decision, but after she had raced out of the door without a backward glance, I had to go after her. I needed to see her.
After she had bolted, we’d all stood looking at each other and scratching our heads as we wondered what the fuck had just happened. The hurt was written all over Mikey’s face; it was a kick in the teeth for him, and I knew then it wasn’t the first time he’d helped Joy out and provided a safe place for her to crash.
Standing on her doorstep, I questioned, for the first time, if she would want me here. Why it didn’t occur to me before, I didn’t know. Maybe because I didn’t want to think about it or talk myself out of it. I needed to see her. Needed to know she was okay and find out what the fuck was going on with her. Once Joy overcame her initial shock and surprise, she remembered her manners and her open mouth snapped shut.
“Dawson.” It came out in a breathless rush of air. Her gaze had wandered over my shoulder before her dark hazel eyes found mine, but not before I caught the flicker of fear, which she shut down and stepped aside. “Come in,” she mumbled, her head dropped as I moved past her. My hand twitched, desperate to reach out and touch her. To gather her into my arms and never let her go.
The door shut quietly behind her and the tension ratcheted up. Now that I was here, I didn’t know … I hadn’t planned out what I was going to say to her. I had acted on impulse, as usual.
“Nice place.” I spoke without thinking and cursed inwardly. I was talking shit; the place was a dump. Sure, Joy had done what she could with the place, but it was tired and dated and it made my heart ache to know that she lived in a place like this.
“Don’t talk shit, Dawson,” she scoffed, a small smile appeared and vanished almost as quickly. I shrugged and turned to see her hovering at one end of the sofa, picking at a loose thread on the cushion. “What do you want, Dawson?” Tiredness seeped into her voice, and my gaze penetrated deep into her. Dark circles ringed her eyes; she was paler than when I’d seen her at the diner and thinner than ever before.
“I wanted to make sure you were okay.” I paused to watch her pull at the loose thread again. “You left in a hurry.”
Her gaze dropped. “I’m sorry, it’s …” She chewed on her bottom lip, something she only ever did when she was worried or stressed, but didn’t finish.
“Don’t worry about it, I … we never got a chance to make sure you were okay. I know Mikey was really worried.”
Her brow pinched tightly together. “I’ll phone Mikey and apologize for rushing out and well … I owe him thanks.”
“Does he do that often?” I tilted my head to the side, but she refused to look at me or answer the question.
“You can’t be here, Dawson.”
“Why not?”
She heaved a sigh and shook her head. “If Donnie catches you here or finds out I’ve seen you … he’ll …” She trailed off, biting down on her lip so hard I expected to see blood. The fear in her eyes was even more pronounced than before.
“He hit you,” I stated, and she winced at my harsh tone and took a step backward. Why did I have to be so blunt? It was obvious he had, but I wondered if she would deny it. I had promised myself I wouldn’t give her a hard time, but after seeing her, tired and pale with fading bruises, those promises flew out the window and my own guilt doubled. I should have been here for her.
“Dawson,” she whispered a warning not to go there. I eyed her for a minute longer, weighing it up. I didn’t come here for a fight; I came to make sure Joy was okay and to find out what was going on with her. Anything but fight with her. I nodded, a small sharp movement, and saw the relief in her eyes.
Shrugging out of my jacket, I threw it over the back of the well-worn armchair and caught the slight widening of her eyes. Did she really think I was going to leave so soon?
“Got any coffee?” I asked with a grin. Her face relaxed, and for a second, it felt like old times.
“Sure, of course.” Joy tugged at the bottom of her shirt and stood straighter. “I’ll go make some.” She swept past me on the way to the kitchen, her spine rigid as I followed her. Resting in the doorway, I watched as she pulled out two mugs. Joy didn’t need to ask how I liked my coffee; it was second nature to her.
My scrutiny unnerved her, and she spilled a spoonful of sugar on the counter before trying for a second time. I chuckled from the doorway and she cast me a look over her shoulder, eyebrows raised in question.
“And they let you serve customers at the diner?” I joked. It garnered a small smile, but when she picked up the coffee pot, her hand shook. Hot liquid splashed out, landing on the counter, and she jumped back to avoid being burned. Pushing off the doorframe, I crossed over to her in two long strides and stood behind her. I placed my hand over the one holding the coffee pot and guided it to pour two mugs of coffee. At my touch, her body sagged a fraction and her back brushed against my front. Together, we set the pot down, but neither of us moved or even dared to breathe. Unwilling to ruin the moment.
Both her hands rested on the counter, my arm wrapped around her waist and held her flush against my chest. All the remaining tension drained from her, and she leaned into me. I dropped my head to press my lips to the top of her head. I felt the tremor that worked its way through her system, followed by a soft sigh. Inappropriate as it was, my dick stirred to life. The small sound she made, her smell, the warmth of her body, her closeness—all of it combined had started to affect me. But I couldn’t take advantage of her at a time like this.
Joy let me hold her, longer than I expected, before she turned in my arms. Her small hands rested on my chest and she smoothed the material of my shirt to distract herself, looking anywhere but at me. My thumb and forefinger captured her chin and tilted it up, forcing her eyes to mine. What I saw shocked me and gave me hope all at the same time. Mingled in with the fear was a flash of desire, and in that instant, I needed her, no, I wanted her, in a way which shocked the hell out of me but I couldn’t hold back. This was Joy, for fuck’s sake. She was the only one I’d ever wanted, and I thought I would never get a chance again. Screw Donnie DeLuca, I wasn’t going to blow it a second time. I took the chance and lowered my lips to hers, slow and hesitant, watching as her eyelids fluttered shut when my lips swept over hers. Her fingers curled into the material of my shirt as she clung to me. Warmth spread through me, a tingling sensation following as I kissed her. No other girl had ever affected me in that way.
I pulled back before I got too caught up in her sweet taste. Her eyes snapped open and her hands dropped away from my shirt. Dark eyes clouded with desire, but I didn’t see regret in them. If anything, she looked more fearful when she squeezed out from between the counter and me. The moment was over. Hooking hair behind her ear, she turned and pulled open the fridge to take out a carton of milk. Although she tried to hide it, I caught the flush high on her cheeks. Yup, our kiss had affected her too. I suppressed the smile threatening to split my face, not wanting to piss her off.
She added milk to the coffee, and without a word, she led the way into the sitting room. Joy took a seat on the sofa, her feet curled underneath her, and wrapped both hands around the mug to grip it tightly. She had shrunken into herself and stared at a spot on the carpet. I chose the seat at the other side of the sofa and sat facing her side on, one leg bent under me with the other stretched out. Over the top of my coffee mug, I watched as she chewed on her lower lip. I waited, giving her time to talk when she was ready. But she continued to stare at the same spot, lost in her own thoughts, gripping the mug and not speaking.
Five minutes later, I’d lost patience. “What the hell is going on, Joy?” I burst out, and she glared at me, irritated by the interruption.
“What speci
fically are you referring to?” Her eyes narrowed. “How my life’s turned to shit? How I ended up with Donnie? Why I’m still living in this crappy town?” She paused, her chest heaved, her cheeks flushed with anger this time. But then the anger cleared and the look of hurt and confusion made my breath falter.
“Why didn’t you come for me, Dawson? You made me a promise. I waited but then nothing. You never fucking came back for me, and I had to do my best with nothing.” The softness of her voice cracked something inside my chest and her eyes dropped. The anger had left her completely.
My hand scrubbed down my face and my eyes remained closed for a long second before I finally opened them to find her staring at me. Waiting for my answer. This had been eating her up for years, and she needed some kind of closure. I could only imagine the number of unanswered questions she had. I had been a dick. Listened to other people and didn’t even have the decency to explain it to her. Now was my chance. I took a deep breath and hoped that she would forgive me when I was finished.
“You were supposed to be going away to college. What happened?”
“Grams died, and I couldn’t afford it. I only received a partial scholarship after all. It wasn’t enough, and the bank took the house,” she said in a flat voice that lacked any sort of emotion. I was positive there was more to the story, but I could make do with the shortened version, for now.
“And Donnie and the dr- the pills, the coke?” I couldn’t help the bite to my words. It was the one thing I couldn’t get my head around. She flinched and shame washed over her as she lowered her head. But not before I saw the shimmer of tears when she averted her eyes. When she met my eyes again, there was a defiant set to her jaw; she was going to own her mistakes, not hide behind them.
“It started out as a way to forget. Forget about my shitty life, how I wasn’t getting out of this town after all, and you. Mainly you.” She grimaced and a fresh wave of guilt washed over me. “It helped me get rid of the big empty hole inside me. For a while.” She paused and swiped at the tears that rolled one by one down her cheeks. “It started slowly at first. Things were changing for Donnie, but when it was the two of us, it was like old times. He could be the Donnie he used to be. I don’t remember when it changed … it all just spiraled. He took control of everything, and eventually, he controlled me.”