Charlie loves Macey, and his tolerance for Penny’s aggression is getting shorter by the day. Even Louie has started cowering when she’s around. It’s like her anger is spilling into every corner of her life, and the only option she’s giving us is to fight back or give in. Lucky for her, I’m a fighter.
I wrestle her back into her cage, a task that’s becoming as much of a battle as the socializing is, and then walk Macey around for a few minutes. She doesn’t need much time from me anymore. Charlie takes her everywhere, and both seem to improve with each outing.
After we finish our walk, Macey trots to her dog bed and plops down. I watch her with satisfaction. At least I’ve had three victories here. It feels good to remember that when the other two are making me question my ability and resolve.
Bryson wraps his arms around my waist. “I have a surprise for you,” he says, setting his chin on my shoulder. “Something that should help with your frustration.”
“Yeah?” I perk up. “What is it?”
“You’ll see.” He pulls me by the hand, and I happily follow along.
Charlie’s UTV is parked outside waiting for us. I didn’t even notice him leave to go get it. “So the surprise is close?”
“Yep, just down the hill.” Bryson walks me to the passenger side of the vehicle just like he does when we’re out on a date together. It’s sweet and gentlemanly and so odd coming from him.
“Why are you so good to me?”
His brow furrows. “Should I not be?”
“No, I mean, yes, you should be. I just . . .” I don’t finish because his mood always seems to dip when I bring up the past. He wants to forget it, move on, but our past is always attached. It follows us even when we’ve outgrown it. “Never mind. Thank you.” I give him a quick peck on the lips and hop into the seat. The Gator has thankfully been parked in the shade, so the vinyl is only slightly hot.
I watch as he jogs to the driver’s side, still wondering when this fairy tale with him is going to end. It’s not fair; I know this, but it’s one of the drawbacks of knowing him for so long. I remember his past relationships. I remember how he treated his girlfriends in public and even had insight, mostly through Alison, on how he treated them in private. Bryson wasn’t a bad guy. He didn’t cheat or yell or anything like that. He was just always a little . . . cold.
He weaves us around the barn and down the hill to where Charlie, along with five archery targets, waits. Each one is a different distance away from a long wooden shooting table, which must be the starting point.
“I get to shoot!” I squeal, too excited to hide my elation. I’d been hinting for weeks that I wanted to see the famed archery range, but Charlie had dismissed it, saying the area was run-down and overgrown.
I take in the freshly cut grass and new golden pieces of wood holding up each target. I can see this job was not a quick or easy one. “When did you have time to do this?”
“I didn’t.” He parks several yards back from where Charlie stands and leans his forearms on the steering wheel. “Charlie did it all. I had no idea until he asked me to help him distance out the targets yesterday. I guess he’s been coming out here early in the morning and working.”
I run a hand along my boyfriend’s back, knowing how relieved he is to see the Charlie he grew up with returning. “This place holds a lot of memories for you, doesn’t it?”
He nods, and I can tell by his silence that not all of them are good. Bryson has slayed many demons on this range. I think maybe that’s why he brought me here. To give me an opportunity to slay a few of mine.
“Okay, let’s do this,” I say, wanting to take away the new slump in his shoulders. “I’m ready to hit lots of bull’s-eyes.”
Bryson laughs. “You’ll be lucky if you hit the target at all. It took me a month to even hit the outer ring.”
I hop from the doorless vehicle and spin. “Well, I’m way better than you, so get ready to be embarrassed.”
He laughs again. “Is that right?”
“Yes.”
“You’re positive.”
“Absolutely.”
He moves in, his breath tickling my forehead. “Enough to wager on it again?”
I shiver at the sexiness of his voice. He can turn it off and on so quickly, like a snake charmer who knows exactly which musical notes are the most hypnotic. I glance up through my eyelashes and give him my own dose of charm. Bryson isn’t the only one who’s learned what buttons to push and when. “What did you have in mind?”
He opens his mouth, but before the challenge can spill out, my pocket vibrates and Cameron’s ringtone blares into the bubble around us, fizzling every ounce of electricity.
Bryson sucks in a deep breath. “How many times is that today?”
I mouth sorry and back away, pulling my phone free in the process. “What now?” I say into the receiver with a hint of both laughter and scolding in my voice. It’s not uncommon for us to talk daily, or even multiple times a day, but ever since our dinner out, Cameron’s been unquestionably clingier.
“Which shirt should I buy? I texted you some options.”
“Um . . . did you forget who you were calling?” I’m only half kidding.
“No, I didn’t forget, and I need your help. I’ve been to five different stores and nothing is right. Come on, Darcy, just give me your opinion. I have to look perfect for this concert.”
“Okay, hold on.” I put him on speaker and look through the multiple pictures he sent. Some even of him in the dressing room mirror. “They all look the same.”
“What? No, they don’t. Look again.”
“I am looking, and they are practically the same shirt. Just pick one. You can’t go wrong.”
“But which is your favorite?”
I sigh, exasperated. I can hardly stand picking out my own clothes for the day, let alone his. My eyes wander to Bryson, who’s standing next to Charlie and testing the string on one of the bows. His black shirt is wet where it clings to his back and fades right into the dark gym shorts he threw on. “Get the one with the least amount of black in it,” I say automatically.
“Okay, yeah. Good call. I don’t want to look like Bryson’s twin.”
I hear him shuffling clothes and then the scrape of a hanger. “Can I go now?”
“Oh, sorry, yes. Thanks.”
I slide the phone back in my pocket and skip down to where two of my favorite men are standing. “So, which one of you is going to be my teacher?”
Charlie backs away. “Not me. I’ve seen how you girls shoot. Sue Ann nearly maimed me the first time.”
“That’s because they like to assume they’re better than their instructor,” Bryson inserts.
I scowl at my boyfriend, though it’s layered in the same kidding jest he had when he said it. Bryson lifts the smallest bow from the table and walks it over. He’s smiling enough that I almost think I’m going to come away from the interruption without a comment, until he leans down to whisper in my ear, “Five times, Darcy. Five times in two hours. I thought you were going to draw some lines?” He isn’t upset, more annoyed, which is his default each time Cam invades our time together.
“He’s stressing over a stage outfit.” I take the offered bow and tug slightly on the taut strings. “You should be glad that he cares so much.”
“I’ll be glad when he has his own girlfriend to call,” he mumbles, watching how I’m handling the bow. “Not like that. You’ll hurt yourself.” Carefully taking the contraption from my hands, he settles behind me, his body flush against my back.
I feel a gentle nibble in the crease by my shoulder and pull away, giggling. “Hey! You’re supposed to be teaching me, not trying to distract me.”
“I can do both,” he teases, and my cheeks flush with embarrassment.
“Stop. Charlie is standing right there.” My scolding has no effect on the man whatsoever. He takes advantage of every opportunity to brush against my skin while he demonstrates how to shoot, and there are many, many ch
ances for instruction because, as it turns out, I’m terrible at archery. Not just bad. The worst. My arrows not only don’t make it to the target but they barely make it past my own feet.
The only saving grace is that Charlie thinks my lack of shooting skills is hilarious, and his laughter is so unexpected and welcome, I probably would have missed on purpose if I knew this would be the result.
Bryson, on the other hand, is a pro, and when he stands there, focused and confident, he’s practically the picture of a Greek warrior annihilating the opposing side. I watch the way his muscles contract and release, the way his dark hair whips in the breeze, and the beautiful touch of sunlight on his tanned skin. My mouth goes dry and I’m hit with a twinge of insecurity. My feelings seem to multiply for him daily. And while I know he cares for me as much as he cares for anyone, I can’t help but wonder if there’s a limit to how far it goes.
Another shot slams directly into the bull’s-eye, and I clap, long ago conceding my defeat. He glances behind and winks, waiting for my reaction. I fan myself and act starstruck, which he seems to love.
“One more, then it’s your turn again.” He pulls back, ready to take another shot, and blast it if my phone doesn’t blare Cameron’s song again. I was amused when he uploaded one of his singles as his own personal ringtone. Now it’s a battle cry. Bryson’s back goes rigid, and he misses the target for the first time all day.
I’m walking away with the phone pressed to my ear before he can give me what I’m sure is going to be a look of pure irritation. “You seriously have issues today,” I say into the phone.
“I’m at the grocery store. What kind of pizza do you want for dinner—pepperoni or supreme?”
“Neither . . . I have plans tonight. I told you that.”
“It’s not fair. This is the first Saturday I’ve had off in weeks and you’re off frolicking with your summer fling. Ditch him and come hang out with me.”
I choose to ignore the fling comment. “I can’t do that.”
“Yes, you can. And besides, you owe me and I’m cashing in.”
“How do I owe you?”
“I moved you in and out of two apartments, both with stairs. And I got up early on a Saturday to help you with Bentley, which, by the way, came with a glorious stain to my favorite pair of shorts.” I hear the beep of the self-checkout. “I got you pepperoni.”
“Cam . . .” I glance over at Bryson, who’s in deep conversation with Charlie. “We’ll hang out tomorrow. I promise.”
“I work tomorrow and Monday. Seriously, Darcy, it’s been a week. Tell him you need some time with your friends.” His frustration has leaked past the banter, and I can tell he’s getting upset with me.
“Fine. I’ll agree to try, but I can’t promise anything.”
“Did I mention the world’s most awkward Sunday night dinner you dragged me to?”
I sigh, beaten. “Okay . . . you win. I’ll be there soon.”
“Awesome! I got movie snacks, too.”
I end the call and head back down the hill, dreading every step.
“All good?” Bryson asks, and his voice is relaxed like he’s doing his best to sound casual about the entire thing.
I glance at Charlie and give a quick smile before taking Bryson’s hand. “Can I talk to you for a second?”
He comes without hesitation, but I can feel his stress growing as we walk toward the UTV. I bite my lip, rehearsing the words in my head. If it weren’t Cameron . . . if he weren’t a guy, anyway, Bryson would understand. Friends always get a little uncomfortable when a new relationship shakes up the normal. I’d felt my own round of insecurity not too long ago myself when January had come into the picture.
We stop by the driver’s side, and Bryson grips the vehicle’s metal frame. “What’s going on?”
I swallow. “I know we talked about grabbing dinner, but if it’s okay, I really think I need to hang out with Cam tonight instead.” I can feel the weight of Bryson’s disbelief as he continues to stare at me wordlessly. “He’s my best friend, and in two weeks you guys are leaving on tour and will be gone for months.” He looks away from me and shakes his head. “I know you keep saying that nothing is for sure, but it could be. And if the three of us are ever going to find some kind of positive coexistence, Cam needs to know that I’m not abandoning him.”
Bryson remains silent, maybe to see if I have more to say or maybe to digest what I’ve already given him. I kick the dirt at my feet and try to respect his need for quiet introspection. Finally, he turns back to me, his expression blank. “Is this another attempt to make Cam happy, or do you want to go over there and be with him?”
It’s not a fair question; there are too many layers of context inside of it. I press my fingers to my temples and sigh. “I want my hanging out with Cameron to not be so complicated. That’s what I want.”
Bryson wraps a hand around the back of my head and gently kisses my forehead. “Have fun.” And then he’s gone, walking away with his hands in his pockets.
I watch him all the way to the shooting table, watch him pick up a bow, and watch as he once again hits the center of the target.
twenty-eight
I’m restless. Restless and anxious, and my insides feel as if they’ve spent the last six days in a rotisserie oven. And maybe that’s why I’m pulling into Bryson’s driveway when I know the entire band will be here in an hour.
Despite Bryson’s acceptance of my early departure last weekend, he was different the next day. Distant, guarded. It took two hours and the intentional act of putting my phone on silent the entire night to pull him out of his shell. But out of it he came, and if Bryson had lingering doubts about the two of us, he certainly hasn’t shown any. It’s as if time has become his enemy and he’s determined to capitalize on every moment we have together.
I’m the one who can’t seem to cope. There are too many things going on in my head. Too many decisions to be made and events to anticipate and parents to try to forget about. It’s all pressing in on me, like my stay of execution is finished and I have to deal with all the turmoil right now, this very minute.
“Knock, knock,” I call out, peeking around the corner into Bryson’s living room.
“Hey, I wasn’t expecting you to come by.” Bryson smiles, soft and genuine, and lifts his guitar strap over his head.
“I hope it’s okay that I didn’t call first.” I step inside the room that’s already been transformed into the band’s practice space.
“Of course it is. What’s going on?”
“Nothing . . . I don’t know.” I take a breath, wishing for the umpteenth time that I didn’t constantly feel as if I were getting off a roller coaster. “I guess I didn’t want to go a day without seeing you.”
He lays his guitar down carefully and comes to meet me in the middle of the room. “You guess, huh?”
Embarrassment singes my cheeks. “You know what I mean.”
He chuckles and wraps his arms tight around me. “I do know what you mean. I kind of like seeing you, too.”
I press my forehead against his chest to keep from turning into a melting pile of mush, but that’s what it feels like lately whenever I’m around him.
“Full disclosure. Cameron’s coming early to work on some harmonies.” He kisses the top of my head and pulls back.
“Oh . . . okay.” I’m disappointed. “I won’t stay long, then.”
A frown pulls at the corner of his mouth but he doesn’t push the matter. I was hoping the elephant would disappear if I ignored it. Unfortunately, it’s only gotten bigger. He backs up and squats down next to the microphone wiring, making whatever adjustments he needs to.
I follow him over and sit on the armrest of the couch he’s pushed up against the wall. “I think I’m going to have to try something new with Penny today.”
“And how many strategies will that make now?”
I scowl at the reminder of my continual failure with the little dog. “Four, but the obstacle course wasn’t
a complete disaster. She does love it.” Not enough to stop attacking Macey or stop lunging at Louie’s cage, which was the whole point, but at least I can sort of justify the three hundred dollars it cost me.
“You know what I think?” He glances up at me from his hunched position. “I think deep down you know you need to cancel your spot tomorrow, and this is just one more attempt to stay in denial. Penny’s not ready to be adopted. And in some ways, she’s worse. She nearly took off my hand the other day when I put her back in her crate.”
“I know.” I rub my forehead, out of ideas. “But Charlie gave me until the end of July, which means I have only two more weeks to work with Louie, and he still only comes out of his doghouse when I’m alone. I don’t have the energy to work on his fear when Penny’s there attacking every moving thing.”
“Charlie’s in a much different place than he was before.” Bryson slides the amp over and turns it at an angle. “He’ll give you more time. You don’t have to rush this.”
“It’s not just about Charlie.” I groan. “It’s everything. The estrangement with my mom, worrying about Cam and his reaction to the two of us, the tour that could very well mean you’re leaving. And to top it off, Dad’s stupid birthday party tomorrow is dangling over my head like a cartoon boulder. I just need something I can control right now. I need a victory.”
Bryson stands, and I hate that he’s watching me with a grin on his face. Hate even more that I think it’s one of his sexiest expressions.
“Why is this funny to you?”
“It’s not.” He strolls over, his smile growing. “I just love how everything you’re feeling rolled out in one breath.” He pulls me up to standing. “One might even think you came over here because you needed to talk to someone . . . and yeah, the fact that I was your first choice makes me very happy.” He nuzzles the skin by my ear, and wonderful tingles run down my spine.
I lace my hands around his neck. “What can I say, Katsaros? You’ve hooked me and now I’m no good without you.”
He laughs into my hair. “Do you realize you only call me by my last name when you’re feeling unsure of yourself?”
Love and the Silver Lining Page 23