3. Chapter Three
Chapter Three
Beau
“ I know I don’t have any right to be the one saying this to you, but if being here doesn’t make you happy anymore, you can always make the decision to leave. Walking away might be the strongest thing you could do.”
“Stayin’ somewhere doesn’t make you weak, darlin’.”
“You didn’t let me finish. You could walk away. But first, you might want to look around for the pieces of yourself you’ve lost here so you can take them with you when you go. And tonight might’ve been a really good start.”
I’m sitting in the front seat of my truck on Saturday and staring at Trailhead’s big barn doors, thinking back to the conversation I had with Riley—or that Riley had with me—the night I danced with Levi. However much they might’ve doubted their own right to do it, there was nobody better suited for a heart-to-heart like that, Riley more observant than most people in my life and someone I couldn’t imagine wanting to silence about anything. Ever.
Their own situation, and whether they’d walk away from it, remained a question for another day.
Now, I look around the crowded parking lot and wonder whether Levi and Adrian are already inside, or whether they’ll show up at all. I’m not sure it matters to Riley’s argument either way when I was lit up by something that probably didn’t have a lot to do with Levi himself. At its simplest, I think I’d been struck by the contrast between Levi and Adrian—one man who very much wanted to be there, and another who looked like he wanted to be anywhere else—and how, on a night spent worrying I was becoming too much like one, I ended up with the other in my arms.
Dancing had been the perfect choice for me then, and I want to do it all over again tonight, whether Levi’s here or not. A really good start, indeed.
It takes me another several seconds to move, the reason for my delay impossible to name even if I cared to try, but then I rub my palms against my jeans and grab my hat from where it rests on the passenger seat, pressing it onto my head as the door of my truck slams shut. The summer sun is just setting around me, and I take a deep breath before making my way toward a place I know inside and out, a muted version of another world teasing me until I pull the heavy door open.
Everything is more —louder and hotter and busier—than earlier in the week, but I’ve spent years at Trailhead and I could’ve predicted every detail laid out before me now. Both pool tables are in use, and enough people are sitting nearby that I assume someone’s waiting their turn. The mechanical bull is still, but with a handful of curious eyes on it, it won’t be a surprise when it comes to life soon. The dance floor is mostly full, a sweaty crowd laughing through some line dance I haven’t bothered to learn but could pick up quickly. And the bar itself is packed, every stool taken except for the one closest to the beer garden, Darren slammed by drink demands that don’t keep him from holding my seat for me, just in case.
I try hard not to think about why.
I catch Riley’s eye as I pass, and I wink when I’m greeted with a genuine smile and a subtly blown kiss. It’s a congratulations of some kind, or just the sort of warm welcome I think I’d miss if I ever gathered the courage to find another bar and other friends and maybe a relationship with someone new. I’d miss Riley , actually, and that’s the beginning and end of that.
Just past Riley, V moves as calmly as anyone, possibly behind the bar because a nameless new hire has called out or just because she’s the owner of Trailhead and can work any shift she wants. Her long gray braid bounces against the small of her back while she reaches for one bottle or another, and she exchanges friendly barbs with Jake—one of my favorite fellow regulars—without missing a beat. She’s at least as friendly to me, and honestly, V could’ve kicked me out on my ass a few times over, but she never, ever has, her steady acceptance of my bullshit something I’m reluctant to let go.
And I’m not stupid. I’d miss Darren too, and it’s a relief to be met with a coaster and a beer and a familiar hand knocking my hat sideways just because it’ll piss me off for half a second.
“It’s about time. Rumor had it you were coming in tonight, but I started to wonder if my sources were all wrong,” he says.
“Right. Sources. You throw some GPS shit on my truck?”
“Fuck, no,” Darren laughs, his dimples a likely distraction for anyone who hasn’t lived with them. “Tracking your ass would’ve bored me a very long time ago.”
“Okay, fine. Who was expecting me?”
“I was.”
I turn at the sound of a voice I still barely know, Levi grinning behind me with just a touch of something shy playing at the corners of his mouth. He’s dropped the cowboy look for a t-shirt that has to be a couple of sizes smaller than what Adrian wore the other night, and it makes Levi look younger than I think he must be, though his glasses are as perfect for him now as they were then. I glance away only long enough to take a long pull from my bottle, my past quick to taunt me and be gone again, and then I nod.
“Welcome back. Wasn’t sure you’d make it.”
“Same, actually,” Levi says. “Darren told us you haven’t been around all week.”
“Us, huh? You actually managed to drag Adrian out again?”
“I did. Didn’t even have to whine or beg about it.”
I shake my head, able to picture Levi’s pout just fine, but stuck when I try to imagine Adrian falling victim to it. “Is that really the kind of thing that would’ve worked on him? ”
“From anyone else? Not a chance. From me? I don’t know because I’ve never had to try that hard with him. He’s been far too good to me for far too long.”
“But you haven’t been good to him?”
“I’d tell you to go ask, but I’m not sure that’s the best idea,” Levi says. “He’d probably think I was still trying to get him to dance with you.”
“Ah, well, we wouldn’t want him to worry. Just make sure he knows I'm capable of havin’ a conversation without it leading to anything more than that. I’m always happy to say hello and then leave him to his whiskey.”
As I take another sip, Levi looks toward the dance floor, listening for a new song, and I remain impressed by his ability to pick out a good two-step within the first few seconds. My bottle lands gently, and I follow as he walks away from the bar, the two of us winding our way through the crowd to find the room to move comfortably. Levi still doesn’t have cowboy boots, though I’m not sure why he’d buy them for a couple of nights out, his restlessness probably temporary enough to wear off after a few more dances even if mine may not do the same. I frown and smile again, and before I can ask about his shoes or anything else, he turns to reach for me.
“Are you okay with leading again?”
“Of course,” I say, aware of a few reasons to bite my tongue before I surrender to the temptation of the easy innuendo, and the confession that I’ll lead or follow a willing partner anywhere.
First, I’ve already had to reassure him more than once about our dancing being only that, and I’m not interested in making the guy uncomfortable when we’re both out here to have fun. Second, I don’t have a habit of breaking up relationships, and while flirting with Levi shouldn’t threaten anyone, I can’t be sure it wouldn’t, especially when I barely know half of the couple in question and haven’t spoken a word to the other. Third, I’ve fucked up a lot in the past few years. I’ve fucked a lot in the past few years. Men I’ve danced with on this same floor have ended up pressed against the bathroom wall or crowded into the back of my truck or dragged into the keg room when I’ve succeeded in lifting Darren’s keys, and while there’s nothing wrong with the sex itself—neither the quality nor the quantity, really—I’ve done it for all the wrong reasons.
In front of someone I’ve hurt enough to have called it even a while ago.
But as we begin to dance, Levi must clock something in the twist of my smile, easily smiling back, curious and maybe ready for trouble I hadn’t seen coming.
“How often do you dance with other men just to get a reaction out of Darren?”
I spin him because I can, and we’re straightened out again when I tilt my head back down and answer honestly. “It’s not the dancin’ with them that gets a reaction.”
“Ah, of course. And there’s been a lot of that.”
It’s not a question anymore, but I nod. “Too much of it.”
“You’ve been careless?”
“Not physically—not the way you’re thinking. And it’s been a while now. Months.”
Levi softens his grin and still knows too much. “Because you’ve started to wonder whether you should be here at all.”
“Somebody was taking notes the other night.”
“I guess. For what it’s worth, I’m glad you came back to dance with me tonight. Or—with anyone else, I suppose.”
“I’m glad to be dancin’ with you , Levi. And besides, I promised you the chance to see if I’m any good with more than five other people out here,” I say, finally catching a glimpse of where Adrian’s sitting, their table further from the dance floor than it was the last time, a more solid boundary drawn, no matter how unintentionally it might’ve happened. Adrian isn’t watching us, choosing instead to scan the room while he sips from his glass, and maybe it’s the distance, but he seems closer to a smile than a scowl. After guiding us into a turn, I squeeze Levi’s hand and tip my head toward Adrian. “He looks more relaxed now.”
“I think he is,” Levi agrees. “It’s not his default setting, so you have to give him a few minutes to get there.”
“And he’s always quiet?”
Levi glances down at our feet—whether for reassurance or time, I’m not sure—before I’m treated to his smile again. “He didn’t use to be, no. But we’ve been together for years and I—”
“You make enough noise for both of you?”
He shrugs in my arms. “Something like that, yeah. But whatever’s happened before, I think we’re both glad to be here tonight. He gets to people watch, and I get to do this. And maybe he’ll decide it’s a good place for him to be loud again. ”
“So, the fun isn’t over? The two of you will come back to Trailhead?”
“I’d love to. Pretty sure he’ll be okay with it, too. But what about you? Is it any easier to stick around when you get to dance with me without worrying that we might end up with our pants down at your ex-husband’s job?”
It’s not the first time I consider that, and I continue to look around while we dance, breathing deeply as I watch Adrian with his whiskey, V with her middle finger extended toward Jake, Riley with a row of shot glasses and a bottle of good tequila, and Darren with a customer draped half across the bar just to play with his rainbow bandana for longer than I ever have.
“Yeah, I think it is,” I tell him. “And you’ll get busy again when school starts, right? So maybe this is the perfect timing for both of us.”
Levi pushes himself into a turn, fighting my lead until we’re both somewhere between a laugh and a growl. “Not sure you’ll get rid of me that easily. Dancing feels better than therapy, and I may need the stress relief.”
It sounds like he might be speaking from experience, and I’m not about to argue. I haven’t seen a therapist myself, no matter how many times it’s been a really good idea to find one, but dancing has always helped to dull my sharpest pain, and I know that sitting on a stool two feet from Darren has been a penance paid on at least a couple of levels. Nothing had stopped me from two-stepping with a dozen different men, just for the pure joy of it, but I had forgotten how to draw a line there, and it wasn’t until Levi showed up that I finally remembered I could.
I want to dance, and if I want more than that too, I’ll let it start somewhere else. Anywhere but in the sawdust I’m sliding through now.
“Then I guess we’ll see how the rest of the night goes, and then make our plans from there.”
And that’s exactly what we do.
When we’re sticky with sweat or a little bit breathless, we take breaks, Levi following me to the bar so he can grab another drink for Adrian before returning to their table to spend some time there. For his part, Levi seems content with the one beer that he’d been given before I even arrived, and the crowd is still decent enough that I can’t keep much of an eye on them anyway, only catching the occasional flash of Adrian’s smile when the angle is right. Darren is still working closest to where I sit on my regular stool, but after a couple of hours of dancing with Levi more often than not, it’s Riley who reaches for me, two fingers hooked around one of mine like it isn’t significantly more than they give anyone else.
“Glad you came back,” they say.
I chuckle, careful to make sure they know just how affectionate it is. “Lot of that goin’ around tonight. And I think it’s gonna take a while for me to gather all those pieces of myself, so it might not be the end of seeing me in this place.”
“Never wanted it to be the end of seeing you here. Just the end of seeing you lonely.”
“Oh, come on, darlin’. There were plenty of nights I wasn’t lonely.”
Riley quirks that sexy pierced eyebrow. “I said lonely, not alone.”
Five simple words, maybe made into an uncomfortable accusation by anyone else, though it’s nothing like that now. I have a feeling they’ve parsed the difference in those definitions plenty, and they’re not doing anything but offering their own mirror to me and silently promising to hold on for as long as it takes me to look a little more closely.
I would do the same in a heartbeat, and I’d consider it something of a failure if Riley wasn’t sure of it.
“You know, betting on those two tonight would’ve been a lot more interesting,” Darren interrupts, beers handed over to a group of women before he jerks his head toward Levi and Adrian. “Still got the cute talker and the quiet, pretty one, but the second time through the front doors seemed like it might’ve been voluntary.”
“It was,” I agree. “Then too—the first time. They just haven’t done the whole drinkin’ and dancin’ thing in a while, and Adrian takes some time to warm up.”
“But Adrian isn’t the one you’ve been dancing with,” Riley says.
“No, I—that’s Levi. Adrian doesn’t dance. Levi told me he’s a photographer and I think he—it’s probably a decent peek into a lot of little worlds, right? Being in a place like this? Gathering inspiration maybe?”
Darren snorts. “Watching you isn’t inspiration enough? ”
“I don’t know. You still stay here all night writing poetry about me on the bathroom walls?” I ask.
“Riley stole my good pen.”
I roll my eyes and let my gaze fall to where I can see Levi lean in for a kiss, Adrian’s hand at his jaw to hold him there longer than I’ve noticed before. I think Levi will return to the bar one more time—to say goodnight, at the very least—and I offer Darren and Riley a quick glance first, Riley already nodding as they pull their fingers away and bend them around a small towel instead.
“They’ll be back again,” I say. “Every week, probably.”
It can’t be much of a surprise for two bartenders who make a pretty nice living off of Trailhead regulars, and neither of them has much of a reaction when Levi reaches my side, casual greetings exchanged all around before Riley’s gone and Levi smiles.
“Maybe two more songs?”
So, Levi and I dance through those two songs.
And when Levi and Adrian are back the following weekend, we dance a whole lot more.
Adrian is still content to sip his way through a couple of Jack and gingers each night, and he watches Levi and me just enough for us to maintain eye contact for a beat or two, everything about it as emotionally neutral as it is fleeting. I haven’t pushed Levi for an introduction, mentioning it only once after the first time I had promised not to scare him, and I say nothing tonight. When Adrian attempts to sweep his dark hair away from his forehead again, I catalog it as a nervous habit of his, and though I wonder how often Levi combs his fingers through it to help him, I don’t bother finding the words to ask.
I do ask him plenty of other questions, and Levi asks plenty back, hours of two-stepping allowing for the same comfortable back and forth we’ve enjoyed from our very first dance. We take some time to work on his West Coast Swing, and don’t run away when we can mess around with a couple of line dances, and there’s conversation between those moments, too. It’s easy, whatever this thing between us is, mostly because it’s not a thing at all, and maybe we’ve each been in search of something simple. I spend less time in the middle of banter that doesn’t belong to me anymore, and Levi relaxes into a life that might be a little like his old one and still kind of brand new, and we don’t even have to talk about plans for the next week when a nod will do.
That Saturday night rolls around, and Riley’s the one to greet me with a beer before Levi and Adrian arrive, Darren busy being adored by what looks a lot like a bachelor party.
“I talked to him last week,” Riley starts. “Adrian. Not for long, but I—yeah, I think he likes it here. Being able to watch everything going on around him.”
I’m mid-sip, and I do my best not to choke. “How’d I miss that conversation?”
“You’re usually pretty busy dancing with Levi, aren’t you?”
“And then the observant customer introduced himself to the observant bartender.”
Riley smiles. “Something like that.”
“Should I be worried about anything?” I ask. “He doesn’t hate me, does he? ”
“Not while Levi’s this happy.”
I play with my bottle, staring down at it long enough that Riley could’ve walked away. They haven’t yet, and probably won’t, working on a refill for someone without having to go far, and it’s only when I see them twist a towel in their hands that I look up again.
“You think that’s all it takes? In a relationship. If we make sure our partner is happy, does the rest fall into place?”
“No, I think that’s exactly what we keep fucking up,” Riley says, and I can’t figure out whether their we has narrowed the conversation all the way down to the two of us, or whether maybe Adrian remains an important third. “Nothing will fall into place if we haven’t decided we get to be happy, too.”
An older couple steps up to the bar then, and I shoo Riley away because we both know better than to talk about anything serious on a busy Saturday night, when the music gets loud and the demand gets high. I think I’m fortunate to have had as much time with them as I have these last couple of trips to the bar, and I don’t take it for granted. Plus, I assume Levi and Adrian will be here soon, and sure enough, I’m only halfway through my beer when I catch them from the corner of my eye, Adrian slipping away as soon as he finds a free stool against one of the high countertops running along the walls. Levi chases him, if only for a second, a kiss enough to make Adrian smile before Levi leaves him for me.
That sounds so much worse in my head than I think I mean for it to be.
But then Levi is at my side, and it probably doesn’t matter, the two of us hand in hand when we weave our way to the dance floor without more than a comfortably friendly hello. We dance and we chat about nothing and we take turns pretending that neither of us feels the need to check on Adrian every now and then. We separate to return to our own drinks, far away from each other for no reason at all, and then we’re back in each other’s arms again, my boots smooth through the sawdust while I silently wonder whether Levi will ever buy a pair to replace his silly little oxfords.
And wonder how long it would take for Levi to break them in now that both of us will stay at Trailhead long enough to try.
I laugh at something he says and forget to wonder about anything else.
Levi says goodnight after a few hours and more dances than I bother to count.
The following weekend, I wait at the bar, and Levi and Adrian never show up.
It happens again the week after that, and Darren, Riley, V, Jake, and at least a couple of others look at me with such different kinds of concern—or pity, if I want to be especially offended by it—but it doesn’t change the fact that I’m drinking alone again. I fuck around on my phone a bit, shaking my head at the fact that Levi and I had never exchanged numbers, and I’m not quite creepy enough to start scouring the social media profiles of every Levi Scott. At some point, there’s a leather-clad arm reaching from behind me to pull the phone from my hand and tuck it into my front pocket, and I turn on my stool to give Jake a weary grin .
“Here to rescue me?”
“Here to dance with you,” Jake offers. “Is that the same thing tonight?”
It probably is, and I appreciate it, especially because I know Jake is plenty content to keep his biker boots far from where he’ll likely trip over them. In a parking lot full of pickup trucks, Jake’s motorcycle is one of very few, and he only dances when he’s drunk enough to be convinced. He’s sober now though, and I let him off the hook, taking the opportunity to do a quick shot and catch up instead.
A week later, I don’t make the trip to Trailhead, relying on Murphy’s law to bring Levi and Adrian back while I’m flopped on my couch to watch some disaster movie, a few bites of cold Chinese takeout left on the coffee table. When it doesn’t work, I go to bed earlier than I have in a while.
The next week, I’m bored enough to return to the bar, and I feel like I’m right back where I started the night I met Levi. Darren flirts with me and gives me shit in equal measure. Riley is kind, and when they flirt too, it’s a perfectly gentle thing I’ve already kept safe for years. The music is familiar, and the beer is cold, and I have no complaints except for the way I miss something that was just barely tangible in the first place, my hand opening and closing around my bottle like it might help alleviate the ache.
In my own defense, I think there’s probably something to be said for the fact that I haven’t fallen all the way back into old habits—I’m not at Trailhead during the week anymore—but there’s only so much I can congratulate myself when I get a text from Darren the following Wednesday night.
The quiet pretty one just walked in. Don’t see your talker yet but figured I’d give you a heads up in case you want to drag your sad ass in here before he shows
I move quickly, maybe more so than I should when it proves things about myself I don’t want to be true anymore, and I’ve swapped my sweatpants for jeans and my bare feet for boots before I bother to wonder why Levi and Adrian wouldn’t have arrived together when I’m pretty sure they only have one car. For a split second, I’m struck by the idea that they might’ve broken up, but it doesn’t make sense that Adrian would’ve been the one to have claimed custody of Trailhead, so I shake my head and lock the door to my apartment before I hurry to the stairwell. I live four minutes from the bar, and none of my questions matter much when Levi’s likely to answer them soon.
Except that Levi still isn’t there when I let the barn door thud behind me.
There’s not much going on inside, and it’s easy to spot Adrian, even when his back is turned to me and his shoulders are slumped forward, his body likely curved around his first Jack and ginger of the night. Walking past him without a hello is routine by now, and my stool is open, and Darren would be pulling a beer from the cooler if this were any other night.
It’s not any other night though—just like a long ago morning wasn’t any other one of those—and I know it when Darren’s hands remain empty as he steps out from behind the bar and waits for me there. There’s no wicked smile or obscene gesture. There’s no too-loud innuendo or suggestive arch of an eyebrow. There’s no attempt to slide right past me on his way to earn another several tips and no acknowledgement that there’s anyone else in the bar at all.
I step all the way up to him, close enough to kiss him if that were a thing we still did, and I shake my head even when it didn’t help silence anything way back when.
“No,” I plead.
Darren’s eyes drift closed. “Outside. Now.”
It’s absurd for me to think I could leave. That I could turn around and drive home and forget I was ever there. Tonight. Weeks ago. Any of it. All of it. It’s absurd, and it’s why I don’t do anything but follow Darren through the beer garden door and into fresh air that does nothing to help me breathe. There are a handful of people drinking at one of the picnic tables set up outside, the string lights overhead lighting them up and leaving Darren and me in the dark as soon as we round the corner of the building. We’ve done this for years—disappearing for a moment alone in what is still a public place—and when he falls against the brick exterior to look up at me, it’s so familiar that I want to scream or kick something or just resent him for as long as I can.
My hands fall to his hips like a bad habit, and I try again. “No.”
“Yes,” Darren sighs. “There was a car accident. A month ago. Adrian wasn’t with him. It happened fast.”
I attempt to do the math, and my head hurts too much to try, but a month ago has to be so fucking close to when I last saw Levi. And it’s a story I know too well—how the world will snatch someone away even if you’ve just spoken to them. Laughed with them. Touched them. I understand that it happens that way all the time, and so I nod now because it’s what probably comes next.
Acceptance.
Or did I forget a few steps?
Is that even possible when they’re not my steps to take?
“Why is he here?” I ask, clearing my throat when it comes out all wrong.
Darren shrugs. “I didn’t ask. But maybe he needed to get away from home. Maybe he needed to go somewhere they were happy.”
“You think he was happy here?”
“Which one?”
It’s my turn to shrug and then I finally let go of Darren to take a step backward, the baseball cap I’d grabbed before leaving my apartment tilted far enough forward to shield me from the sympathy he’ll try to offer. I need to get back inside—we both do, actually—but I also need to stop feeling things that have nothing to do with me. I danced with Levi, sure, but I’ve danced with a lot of guys, and they come, and they go, and it’s tragic what happened, but I can’t—this isn’t—it doesn’t belong to me.
“You have to get back to work.”
“I do,” Darren agrees. “And I think you should stick around for a while. Riley will worry if you leave.”
“ Riley will, huh?”
“I know you’re not gonna come back inside for me. ”
It’s a hell of a lie, but we both swallow it down before I gesture toward the beer garden we can’t quite see. “Go.”
“I’m sorry.”
“Me, too,” I murmur. “Go.”
The music sounds both too loud and too quiet when we slip back into the bar, and Riley, for all their expected worry, remains as far away as possible when I slump onto my stool, the kid too aware of what it takes to handle fragile things. Darren hands over the beer I should’ve had a few minutes ago, before things flipped upside down, and I cling to it now like it might stop a freefall that must have started when I walked through the front door tonight.
Or that first time Levi didn’t show up.
Or the first time he did.
I take a sip, maybe even two, and then I sigh, because I’m done talking to Darren, and I will crumble when I talk to Riley, and there’s only one other person I think is worth a hello right now. The bottle hits the coaster harder than it should when I set it down, my hand shaking when I leave it there and make the weakest version of a fist just to prove I can. A second later, I clear my throat and think it might not matter, and if there’s anyone who would’ve considered stopping me, they don’t move from where they watch me slide off the stool and onto the dusty floor.
I sigh again and walk across the room.