Chapter 23
Chapter
Twenty-Three
NOW
Dash
C ool morning light greets me when my eyes pry themselves open. My body jerks. Where am I? My hands slide across a fuzzy white blanket, there’s a window, I’m on a couch. Fuck. I’m still at Syd’s apartment. I must have fallen asleep.
I move carefully, sensing that someone’s on the floor just below me. Syd. The longer strands of his hair fall across his face. There’s a slow rise and fall of his chest as he peacefully breathes. I watch him for a while. He’s covered in a blanket, too. He must have slept out here with me.
The man deserves an explanation. He deserves to be loved by someone whose heart doesn’t belong to someone else. It can’t be me. Even now, all I want is Stacey. Stacey might never get over himself enough to be with me, but I have to end things with Syd. I’m an asshole for not realizing it sooner.
Syd stirs. He opens his eyes, smiling. An arm slides up to grip mine. “Good morning, bright eyes.”
Fuck. This is going to be painful, isn’t it?
“I tried to move you to the bedroom, but it upset you, so I let you sleep here. I was worried about you, so I slept on the floor.”
“Isn’t that bad for old people?” I tease, stretching.
“I’ve still got some life in me yet. How about you wash your face, and I’ll make coffee?”
I take him up on the offer, so I can pull myself together. How do I do this? “Rip the Band-Aid off” style? Plead for forgiveness? I let go a heavy exhale. There’s no easy way to do this.
When I head out to the kitchen, he’s got hot coffee ready. All I can think about is Stacey at home drinking “first coffee”, the most sacred coffee of the day, according to him. I slide into a seat at the kitchen island.
“So,” Syd begins. “Does your confession have anything to do with the phone call I got from Newlands Golf Course last night? They phoned while you were asleep.”
My stomach flips. Shit.
I rely on old self-soothing movements, rubbing my right hand up and down my left forearm.
“I didn’t mean to scare you, Dash,” Syd says. He places a hot cup of coffee in front of me.
“I’m not?—”
“You’re rubbing your arm. You don’t think I’ve figured out what that means? I might not know as much about you as Stacey , but I pay attention. I intend to know as much.”
Shit. The way he said Stacey doesn’t bode well. “Stacey is?—”
“Your best friend and the man who put a thirty-thousand-dollar deposit on our wedding venue, Mr. Alderchuck.”
“Um …”
“Care to explain?”
“It … it started off innocent,” I begin, but then I remember the really not innocent kiss. “It was a pissing contest.”
“A pissing contest?”
“Yeah, because even off the ice we’re testosterone-fueled clowns.”
“Ooookay. Clearly, something hockey-culture related I’m probably not going to understand, but I’m following.”
“But it kinda began about a couple of weeks ago when he kissed me.” I don’t know how accurate that is. It’s when our most recent mess began, but Stacey and I began forever ago. “And I kissed him back.”
He nods, but he’s quiet as he processes what I’ve said. “The name Alderchuck came up a lot.”
Stupid tears fill my eyes. I don’t want them. Syd will crumble for them, and he shouldn’t. I deserve whatever I have coming to me for this—yelling, names, the whole works.
There’s a reason for it all, a long-ass story’s worth of shit that happened, leading me to this exact point in time, but there’s no excuse. I said I’d tell him about what happened to me, seeing as he already knows the gist of it—still not happy about that—but I can’t. I don’t want to.
Can’t, don’t want to, but oddly compelled to blurt it all out as if it’s the only way to purge it from my bones.
“When I was eighteen, my dead mom’s boyfriend chained me to a bedpost on the floor to prove how well I could behave for him. I had to dislocate my thumb to escape, or I might be there still. Fuck, sometimes, when I sleep alone, I am there.” I check in to see how horrified he is, but for once I don’t wanna puke while saying the words. I think Billy would call that progress.
“That’s … Dash, I’m so sorry.”
“Everything’s better with Stacey. I’ve been told more times than I can count that a person’s not supposed to heal you—you’re supposed to heal yourself. But Stacey heals me. Over and over again. When I wilt from time to time, all I have to do is sit near him and it’s as if his very energy wraps around my insides, eating up all the bad shit threatening to take me down.”
Don’t know if Stacey’ll still want me when I tell him that, when I admit that I can’t live without him, but I’d rather work our way back to friendship than ever hurt someone like I’m about to hurt Syd again.
Other relationships don’t work for me, and this is the solid proof of it.
“But even if none of his magical healing properties existed, I’d love him.” I don’t know how to convey my love for Stacey in a way Syd will understand. It’s all the little moments we’ve spent together, the big ones, the fights, the grocery store runs, Frappuccino and sushi, late nights working bar together.
It’s also my complete and utter adoration of the man. No one will ever measure up to him, and that’s even when he has his head up his ass. Even when I hate him—maybe especially when I hate him. Even when I want to pound on him a bit.
“I’m, fuck, I’m so sorry.” The tears finally boil over. I hate that I did this to him, but I’m not gonna run from it. I’m gonna take responsibility for being the worst.
Syd stands up. He pulls me out of my seat, and I let him comfort me, even though maybe I should be comforting him? I don’t know that he needs it. Maybe he didn’t get my meaning?
“Shhh, it’s okay. I forgive you. What happened to you was awful and you’ve bonded to Stacey because of it. Those sorts of codependent relationships never work out in the long run. Over time, all that will fade away, and I’m willing to wait it out. That’s how much I fucking love you, Dash.”
Ask me how tired I am of hearing Stacey and I are nothing but a trauma bond.
It makes us sound so bad. Like we were never real. Like our friendship is something to be ashamed of. I’m ashamed of a lot of things, but not what I have with Stacey.
Guess I can’t blame Syd for an assessment like that, but that doesn’t stop the grain-of-rice-sized pebble of resentment from sprouting to life. My friendship with Stacey means everything to me. I wish Syd hadn’t reduced it to the equivalent of poison.
“I’ve left you alone for way too long. That’s my fault.”
That’s … I don’t like that. He can’t be for real.
“It’s so not your fault, Syd.” More people blaming themselves for my failings as if I can’t possibly fuck up on my own—just what I need. “But I can’t marry you when I have these kinds of feelings for my best friend. I’m sorry.”
Syd’s fingers grip around the back of my neck tightly, so fucking tightly, I’m sure he doesn’t intend on letting me go. Does he know he’s doing it? My heart rate kicks up. My mind races with ways to put him on his ass.
You’re a big strong hockey player now. You’ve kicked lots of asses of men stronger than Syd. You can kick his too. But I’m frozen. Can’t move, can’t speak. Can barely convince myself to inhale. His fingers dig deeper, till they hurt. My brain races, searching for things I might have missed about him. Syd’s never been violent, hell, I’m more violent than he is. It’s gotta be shock. Please say it’s shock.
“I need you to let go of me, Syd.”
He takes a deep inhale, but steps away. His eyes glisten, and his lip trembles. Watching a man as strong as him fall apart like this is enough to convince me never to date anyone again.
“I didn’t mean to do that. I … fuck, I’m sorry, bright eyes.”
“I’m sorry, too. I didn’t mean to hurt you.”
“I know. That’s not who you are, Dash. I know you care about me. But are you sure? Sure you won’t think differently in a few days?”
I shake my head. “I’ve been in love with that man for a third of my life. If he rejects me a third time—no. Know what? It’s not happening. I’ll stage a fucking intervention. I’ll have Sutter and Rhett drag him to a cabin in the middle of nowhere, and we’ll all knock sense into him.”
Syd gives a weak smile. “What’s a Sutter?”
“A hockey player with shady-ass friends.”
I push the heavy door to Syd’s condo building open with a sinking feeling in my gut, itchy eyes, constricted chest. I’m a wreck. He tried to convince me to let him drive me to where I was going, but I lied and said I had an Uber on the way. I needed to get out of there. Breaking up is so fucking hard.
But even with all that, there’s a lightness in my step. My heart’s beating just a bit easier. Syd can be with who he truly deserves. And I …
… well I can return to my pining. Or something.
All I know is that it’s clouding over already. So much for the sunny day I woke up to. Everything’s spiraling, transforming into the same murkiness shrouding me.
I walk to The Wicklow, which is a considerable distance from Syd’s condo. We don’t open for a few hours, so color me fucking surprised when I turn up and see Stacey’s hideous canary yellow Hummer in the parking lot. Fuck me. I don’t know if I’m ready to talk to him yet. Wonder if I can sneak up to Dad’s for a quick pep talk? Tugging the hood of my hoodie over my head, I slip inside.
Yeah. Guess who’s already at a fucking table with his brother and Thing One and Thing Two perched on either side of him? Yeah, it’s Mr. Fucking Alderchuck. Why does he gotta be here so early?
I’m surprised to see Casey without Sutter, though. They’ve been attached at the dick. They could be having a spat, knowing them. We never truly know if they’re flirting or fighting.
Like the shining example of adulthood that I am, I storm directly toward the kitchen, letting the two-way door slam loudly as I pass through it, full-on tantrum mode engaged. I’m not dealing with Stacey and his entourage. I head up the stairs to the small apartment he refuses to leave, even though he can afford a much better place. He’s too practical for his own good.
I don’t knock because I never knock, but maybe I should have. I hear voices. “Dad?”
There’s a murmured curse in Dad’s harsh voice and some shuffling. “We’re in here, Dashie! Ah, just a second.”
We?
Dirk and Dad come out of Dad’s bedroom, carrying his dresser. Dirk’s in a T-shirt that looks familiar, though I can’t recall when I’ve seen it before. Sweat beads just under the band of his hat.
Dad’s round biceps contract tightly from the weight of the dresser. All his tattoos are on show in that tank top.
“What’re you two doing?”
“Oh, Dirk here was helping me move the dresser. Got a guy from Marketplace coming here to buy it.”
“Um, why?”
“Getting a new one.”
Wow, I’ve seriously fallen into the upside-down. Dad rarely gets a new one of anything.
“You kept saying this thing was so old. Finally took your advice. Need something?”
I was gonna just talk with Dad, but I guess Dirk can hear too. I make myself comfortable on the couch. “Syd and I broke up—I broke things off, for the record.”
“Oh, Dashie, I’m sorry,” Dad says.
“I’m fine. Mostly. Break ups suck, but he was so damn mature about it.”
If that were Stacey and I, it would have been a fight. A big one. Yelling, throwing shit, the works. A smile breaks out across my lips. I would have been the one yelling and throwing stuff. Stacey would be chasing me around the house.
They exchange a look and put the dresser down. Each takes a seat on either side of me, and Dad opens his arms for me. He … huh. He smells different. Familiar but different.
“Wanna tell us why you’re smiling about breaking off your engagement?” Dad says.
“I ah, I broke it off because I’m in love with Stacey. Don’t know where to go from here, though. Nothing about this is normal. But I’ve never felt better.”
“I’m gonna be so for real with you, bro,” Dirk says. “I’m gonna lock you two in a room if you don’t get your shit together.”
“Dirk,” Dad scolds.
“You don’t have to hear ‘em. Seven years of this crap.”
“You give shitty pep talks,” I complain, but he’s entitled after putting up with me for so long.
Dad gives him a withering glare on my behalf. Dirk huffs, throwing his hands in the air, stands and storms toward the fridge. There’s the hiss of a bottle opening. What is with him? Dirk has a low barometer for bullshit, but he’s not usually this performative.
“Dirk’s not saying it with the grace he usually does, but I agree with his sentiment—get your ass down there and talk to him.”
Dirk relaxes against the counter, sipping his beer. He’s silent but less tetchy.
“Well, this has been a waste of my time. Thanks for nothin’, you two. I want a pair of dads like Jack has. You don’t have anyone to rein you in, Pops.”
Dirk spits out his beer, doubling over with laughter. Didn’t know I was so funny.
“Yeah, Trav,” Dirk says. “You need a man to rein you in.”
Come to think of it, Dad hasn’t dated anyone seriously in a long fucking time. Not that I know much about his dating life.
“Wish I hadn’t brought the topic up, to be honest. Alright, I’m good. I can do this. Question, you okay if I chase Trevor and Alvin out of the restaurant with a pool cue?”
“It’s Trent and Alex, and no,” Dirk answers for him.
I stand up. “Fine. You comin’ with, Dirk?”
“Am I, Trav?” he says, which is fucking weird. Why are they being so weird today?
Dad shakes his head. “No. The dresser, remember? I need your help with it.”
“There you go, can’t. He needs my help. I’ll be down in a bit. I’m sure it won’t take long.”
O n my way out of the kitchen, I brush shoulders with a man who has a wingspan as long as my body. He’s not from around here. Wearing a three-piece suit, tie, and shoes polished to shine like marble, he glides further into the restaurant as if he’s about to buy the building.
“Hello there, young man. Any chance you might know Stacey Alderchuck?”
Oh. Oh. Without him having to say it, I put together who this is. This man is the walking stereotype of daddy vibes. I’m not missing this for the world. “Right this way. Could I get your name?”
“Philip.”
Daddy Philip. Damn that has a nice ring. I show him to the table. Everyone’s eyes pop out of their skulls, including the summertime twins. They squeal.
“Daddy! Oh my god, we missed you.” They abandon Stacey like he’s last year’s iPhone and scramble to latch onto a side of the mammoth man. No wonder he needs two of them.
“Were you well-behaved for Stacey?” he asks them.
“We were, but you can still spank us if you want to,” Alex says.
My cheeks flush, and I swallow. Why do they have zero boundaries?
Philip hugs them to his sides. He’s being stern with them—probably because they like it—but there’s a fondness and love in his eyes I’ve seen somewhere else. Okay, it was foolish for me to be so jealous when clearly this is the man for them. I guess I need to find out more about this whole polyamorous thing. Not that I’m interested in it myself, just curious.
These two aren’t touching my Alderchuck anymore. Ever a-fucking-gain, just to be clear.
I didn’t notice their bags before. Stacey stands, handing them over to Philip. And then he does something fucking strange. Yanks me to him using the waistband of my jeans. What the fuck? But I’m not going to complain. Not right now, anyway. I’m more than happy to stake my claim in front of everyone.
Stacey’s arms wrap around me from behind. His head rests on my crown. To Philip, we must look like we’ve been together for years.
“Is this your man? The one you spoke about?” Philip says.
“Yep,” Stacey says.
“Nice to meet you, Dash,” Philip says. “Thanks for helping me find them.”
He knows my name?
“And I can vouch for them. They were well-behaved. It was mine causing trouble,” Stacey says.
“Hey!” Mine, though. He said mine. Wait a sec, Philip called me Stacey’s man. Did I miss a conversation?
“You’re kind of a brat,” Trent says.
I scowl. It’s time for them to go away and never come back. I stick my tongue out.
Philip laughs. “Alright. I’ll be in touch about the hockey game, Stacey. Thanks again for looking after them.”
“Hockey game?” I ask.
“Trent wants to see a hockey game. I was hoping you’d help me arrange something for them.”
They’re not leaving? I don’t ask it out loud, but I’m sure it’s on my face. Philip chuckles.
“I’m taking my boys to a hotel for some much-needed attention,” he says, leaving it to my overactive imagination to decide what “much-needed attention” means. “But we’re looking forward to it.”
They leave, one on each of Philip’s arms. Never have I been happier to see someone get the fuck out. But as soon as the door shuts, Stacey’s arms around me become noticeable. They’re not arms I’d think anything about usually, but today they’re different.
Familiar, but new.
And then they become a trap.
“I read your journal, Dashie,” he says in a voice that could melt steel.
Fuck me. I’d forgotten I’d thrown it at him during a hasty retreat. “Y-Yeah, and?”
“You’re coming with me.”
He shuffles me through the kitchen and toward the back of the restaurant while butterflies tear up my insides and waves crash in my ears. For the first time, I can’t begin to guess what’s going to happen. Will we fight? Yeah, of course, but that’s all I can be sure of. And to be honest, I don’t care what happens. For weeks now, I’ve felt like I’m leagues away from Stacey, even when he’s in the same room.
We feel like us right now. I’m alive again.
He releases me once we’re in the back where the cubbies and lockers are. I spin around.
“Don’t you dare think I’m running to you just because they’re gone,” I say, even though that’s exactly what I want to do.
“Oh, for crying … I wasn’t with them, Dash.”
“You had fucking kiss marks all over your damn body.”
“Wouldja just come here a minute? I don’t like you all the way over there.”
I’m less than a foot away from him. “No.”
“Can you have mercy on a guy whose heart was just put through the fucking blender, Dash?” He clutches his chest. “I thought I was never gonna get to have you. I believed that with all my damn being. If that wasn’t the case, I wouldn’t have even entertained the idea of doing anything with them.”
All I hear is that he wasn’t with them. Still don’t love the idea of them kissing his body, but this is leagues better.
“Even before you expressed your feelings about them, I couldn’t do it. It was my lame attempt to get over you, but there is no getting over you.” He turns away from me, punching the wall, pounding the shit out of his knuckles.
Stacey punching the wall doesn’t do anything bad to my insides. I know he’s the safest place in the world.
His chest rises and falls. He can’t look at me. I don’t know if I can look into those brown eyes of his just now either. If I do, I’m gonna want him, and there’s something we need to talk about before that can happen.
Stacey whips around, brows frowning, chest heaving, slightly crazed.
He’s so fucking sexy right now, I might die. Heart attack right here. Cause? Sexiness overload. I want him to kiss me again. Worse, I want to provoke him into kissing me. I want the feral side of him who grabbed me in Dad’s office and showed me what a real kiss felt like.
I’ve never felt all that powerful during sexually charged interactions, but with Stacey it’s just like when I’m flying down the ice, a puck in my cradle, about to score. I want him to fuck me—that’s not even a question—but I want so much more than that. I want to be consumed by him. I want him to sink into me until we mold so completely, we can’t be pulled apart. I want Stacey to belong to me, and only me ever again.
I step toward him, one, two, three steps.
We meet in the middle, intense air swirling around us like a tornado. He grips my face, and my hands slide up the side of his shirt, connecting with his hot skin. My heart might implode.
He’s shaking.
“I want you so bad, Dashie.”
“I want you, too, but?—”
“But?”
“I’ve been keeping something from you. Well, it’s not as dramatic as that sounds it’s?—”
“Whatever it is, I don’t care. We’ll work through it. After I forked out thirty grand for your wedding to another man, I was fucking devastated. For a moment, I’d lost you forever.”
“I lost you forever once,” I point out. My insides shattered that day.
“That was a particularly painful entry. I spent the morning reading your journal. Crying. Philip called and said he was on his way, already halfway to Vancouver from Seattle. I still wasn’t sure what to do about us, but then I saw you walk into The Wicklow and it was like we’d found our way back to each other. I’m not tempting fate anymore. I want to be with you, only you. Forever you.”
“I want that too, but I don’t know if I’ll ever be a whole person, Stace. That’s what you seem to want. You want me healed and whole before you’ll have me.”
“What? No. No, no, no, sweetheart. Nothing like that.”
“I still can’t function without you, that gonna be okay?” I hold my breath. He might walk away after hearing everything, but he should know.
“I’ve had some realizations of my own. I can’t function so well without you either. Don’t even want to.”
“Really?”
“I’m a mess without you. I’m the world’s biggest fucking hypocrite because I spent all this time telling you how wrong it was to exist for someone, when all the while, I existed for you. You had it right all along, Dash. I just want to be with you.”
All I’ve wanted to hear is that he wants to be with me. I don’t know what to do with it now that I have.
“What about everything you said? Are you gonna hear me say something and bolt? Because there’s a lot I don’t say around you.”
“And now you’re gonna say it without end because you like to test me.” He smiles as if he’s looking forward to all that, and yeah, he’s right. I’m gonna test the hell out of him. “Bring it, baby. I can take whatever you throw at me, Dashie.”
“Yeah?”
He nods. “But I want to make something clear. There’s been no misunderstanding here. I don’t regret turning you down before, as much as it almost fucking killed me. It would have been wrong.”
I bite my lip. “It sucked, but in hindsight I agree.”
His lips find their way to my neck, and when I tell you I fucking shiver … fuck.
“I’m needy.”
“I like you needy, Dash. Too much.” He kisses my neck, sucking just a little. It’s hard to breathe. “I live for the moments I get to take care of all your needs.”
“I’m high maintenance.”
“I love maintaining you.”
“Looking after me’s gonna be a full-time job,” I promise him, and maybe I want to scare him a little. He needs to know what he’s getting into. “I second guess everything, which means I’m often paranoid and anxious.”
He stops what he’s doing to my neck to raise his brows at me. “You’re not that good of an actor, Dash. I know.”
My body starts to let go. “I’m the worst kind of jealous and possessive.” But only of him for some reason. I couldn’t give a fuck who Syd was with. “I’m deleting your Benduovr profile.”
Stacey laughs. Too loudly, if you ask me. “Believe me, I know. Still surprised you let me have a profile at all. You’re the one who made it for me in the first place.”
“I was trying to be okay with you dating!” Clearly, I failed.
“Anyway, you know what a barbarian I am, we’ll be two possessive peas in a pod.”
How jealous he gets of Hunter comes to mind, but not for long. Hot breath heats the underside of my jaw while my cock slowly fills. Those little kisses are everything, lulling me into a haze.
His hand drops to find my left hand. Fingers inspect the place where my ring used to sit. I left it on Syd’s dresser when I was getting ready to go.
Stacey pulls back to meet my gaze. “Does this mean you’re already…?”
I nod. “Yup. Free agent.”
“I don’t think so, Dash. You are so not a free agent.”
“Oh, yeah. Why’s that?”
“Because you’re mine.”