Chapter 48 Dani
DANI
I got back from my road trip two days ago. It was a fun break. After spending five weeks in Colorado Springs, wallowing in my room, hanging out with Elsa, and finally going to therapy, I found the strength to hit the road.
I started with my siblings, staying two nights with my oldest brother, Remi, and his wife and one-year-old daughter.
That was all things precious, and I left feeling better than I had in weeks.
I then stopped in to spend four days with Shantee, my sister, and her husband and twin boys.
That was chaotic but lots of fun. I was more than happy to hit the road again, though, and made it across the country, staying in motels along the way and finally ending up in NYC.
I parked my car in long-term parking at Newark Airport and caught the train into the city.
It was wild. I’d never been to a place that big before, but Jed and Tobin took the best care of me.
The restaurant where Jed’s working is so flash.
Tobin made me spend the last of my savings on a new dress that sparkles and hugs my body like nothing I’ve ever owned before.
I got hit on a bunch of times throughout the night, and Tobin had to end up pretending to be my boyfriend.
All I could think about was Ty and how, if he’d been beside me, I would have had an actual boyfriend.
One I loved and cared about. One who could make me smile and feel safe and…
listen to Whitney Houston with me. Someone I could travel the world with.
“Ahhh,” I softly whine to myself as I leave the grocery store. Mom sent me on a shopping run, and I was happy to go because I’m starting to suffocate in my room.
New York was thrilling and exciting and… Colorado Springs is not.
I want to hit the road again, but I’m out of cash. I need to get back to working and earning.
My parents carried me when I first got back here. They could see I needed time to heal. I ended up telling them everything, and they totally remembered Tyrell.
“Oh, he was such a nice boy. I always liked him.” Mom had smiled, then looked slightly horrified as I burst into wailing sobs.
I told them about the party and how triggering it was to see that guy on the floor. Dad had me booked into therapy within a few days.
Sitting with that lovely, softly spoken therapist made me realize I should have done this immediately after Atlas’s death. I had no idea I’d been carrying around PTSD over the night he died. I’d just mourned and tried to move on.
But therapy has been helping me to really process my grief and trauma.
I’m feeling stronger. Calmer. More capable of dealing with life.
I can do this.
I can travel and be the woman I need to be. And I’m starting to dream again. About how I want to spend my days. Of course, travel is right up there, but it can’t be the only thing. I used to love managing Atlas’s band, but I’m not about to jump back into the punk rock world.
But… what if I could take the things I loved about managing and the things I love about tending bar and combine them?
What if I could open my own place?
A jazz bar or a sports bar or some cool kind of coffee lounge. I’m not sure yet, but the idea has definitely piqued my interest. I have no idea how I’ll make it happen, and with wanting to travel as well… how can I make what little money I have work for me?
I really need to get myself a job, probably for a few years, and save as much money as I can. I’ll make that my only focus, and eventually all these dreams that are firing me up will come to fruition.
I’m still pretty set on being single, but as I carry these heavy grocery bags to my car, I can’t help imagining Tyrell beside me. He’d be carrying the bags, and I could swan along beside him, unlocking the car and driving us home. He’d probably help me unpack them, then ask me what I want to do.
He was always thinking about me, never demanding anything or putting pressure on me. I could be myself around him. I just didn’t realize I could. Or I wasn’t aware that I was just being me. And then I got scared and put all these barriers into place.
And now, I’m… I don’t know.
“He’s probably moved on already,” I mutter to myself, hating that idea with a depth that’s causing my stomach to hurt. “But he deserves to be happy.” I’m still whispering to myself, no doubt looking like a crazy person .
Dallas is probably full of friendly, gorgeous, kind women. Tyrell’s no doubt inundated with dates and invites. There’s bound to be someone he can fall in love with. His past-the-third-date girl is out there, and I won’t be surprised if he’s already found her.
“And that’s a good thing,” I say, then repeat, “I want him to be happy.”
I just wish the idea of him with someone else didn’t hurt so much.
I want to be single, right? This is what I want.
So why don’t I feel better?
Unlocking my car, I dump the groceries in the trunk and am about to get behind the wheel when a male voice grabs my attention.
“Dani?” I whip a look behind me, my eyes narrowing until I recognize the long-haired guy loping toward me.
No way.
My body tenses like it always used to, but I hide it behind a smile… like I always used to.
“Reef.” I point my keys at him. “It’s been a while.”
“Yeah.” He slows to a stop, eyeing me up like he can’t decide if he wants to use up one of his rare smiles on me.
He still looks exactly the same, sporting his long, scraggly locks, ripped jeans, a baggy hoodie, and a beanie that looks like it hasn’t been washed—ever.
He was the bass player in the same band as Atlas, and his fashion sense could be described as stoner-skater boy from a 90s teen movie. The only thing he’s missing right now is his beat-up board.
I never 100 percent warmed to the guy. He threw off a vibe that was a completely different frequency to mine. I don’t think he liked me much either.
In fact, I still don’t think he likes me.
I give him an awkward smile, waiting for him to say something.
I never understood why Atlas looked up to him. He was a little in awe of the guy and couldn’t shut up about what a talented musician he was. When Reef invited him to join their band when we were still in high school, it was the biggest honor.
“So…” I tip back on my heels, unable to stand this awkward silence anymore. “How are you?”
Don’t ask him that? Why are you drawing out this conversation?
He moves a step closer to me, and yep, the guy still reeks of weed.
“Yeah, yeah, I’m good.” He tucks a lock of hair behind his ear and eyes me up and down. “You?”
“Yeah.” I nod, not sure what else to say. I’m not good. But I’m not bad either. I’m just… existing right now.
He nods, his lips rising into a barely-there smile as he looks away from me, obviously thinking something over. After a beat, he lets out this derisive, scoffing laugh that I don’t understand before looking back at me. “Thought you’d left town.” He sniffs. “That’s what I’d heard anyway.”
“I moved up to Nolan for a little bit, but I’m back now.” I point at myself. “Obviously.”
“Nolan.” He narrows his eyes at me. “Causing trouble up in Nolan, huh?”
My head tips back as I try to figure out what he means by that. “Uh…”
“I’m heading up there next week,” he murmurs, his head bobbing as he scrapes the asphalt with his Converse.
“Okay.” I nod, still wondering why he thinks I’m some kind of troublemaker.
“There’s a concert up there, and they’ve asked me to fill in for the bass player. He can’t do the final couple shows, so…” He tips his head, his try for humility completely failing. He is so fucking proud right now.
My lips part, my eyebrows rising. “Are you talking about Electric Reverence?”
“Yeah.” He frowns, pointing at me. “You know ’em?”
“Doesn’t everybody?” I counter. “How do you…? How did you manage to get that gig?”
“I know one of the guys in the band. We used to hang. Atlas knew him.”
“Oh, I… I… I didn’t know that,” I end in a whisper.
“Yeah, he used to party with us on the regular.” His eyes narrow on me again. “You probably met him too.” He works his jaw to the side, his voice getting gruff. “You always were at those parties. Always by Atlas’s side.” He sniffs. “Until you weren’t.”
My blood runs cold. “What’s that supposed to mean?”
That scoffing laugh punches out of him again, and he shakes his head. “Doesn’t matter.”
“He told me to fuck off,” I whisper, steeling myself against that guilt the therapist has trained me to let go of. I made my choice that night. Atlas made his. There is no turning back time. There is only acceptance. Forgiveness.
I wish I hadn’t said that now. I wish I’d just kept my mouth shut.
Reef’s dark look is making my skin crawl. “You know he didn’t mean it.”
Gritting my teeth, I cross my arms and squeeze out, “It sure felt like it at the time.”
Reef’s hard stare tells me he’s not buying my shit.
But it’s not shit.
Atlas’s harsh words cut me that night, and so I took off. And sure, I wish I hadn’t. But I did, and this man, standing here trying to make me feel guilty for that, is going to undo weeks of therapy.
Which means I need to get the hell away from him.
Right now.
“Well, I guess I’ll see you there,” I throw out, then instantly regret it.
Why did you say that?
I don’t even know if I’m definitely going.
Yes, you are. Jed and Tobin made you promise! And Nix wants to see you.
She’s seemed brighter the few times I’ve talked to her, and I did say I’d be there.
Shit. Why did I say that?
Maybe I could just fake a sickie or—
You want to go! You know you do!
“Guess you will.” Reef’s scathing look is enough to make me want to bail. My friends will get it. I so don’t have to be there.
But you do. And you know why.
I haven’t let myself admit it yet, but there’s that feeling again, bubbling and brewing… begging on its knees for me to wake up and acknowledge it.
“Later,” Reef mutters before turning to walk away.
Yuck. That conversation was… anything but pleasant. Reef couldn’t have been more obvious if he tried. He blames me for Atlas’s death.
But he was there too. The memory is obviously still pretty fresh for the guy. Why didn’t I challenge him on it? I should have asked him why he didn’t keep Atlas safe that night, why he didn’t check on his friend, who he obviously still misses. He wouldn’t be so dark toward me otherwise.
Shit, the guy will be at the after-party.
I shudder, making a mental note to stay as close to Jed and Tobin as I possibly can. Nix is pretty feisty too, so she’ll be an asset. I’ll just surround myself with them, and everything will be fine.
As I close my car door, I grip the wheel, my mind shifting to Tyrell.
The instinct to pull out my phone and text him about who I just saw is strong. He’d know Reef. He used to hang with Atlas and his band buddies. He was their personal bodyguard. Black Jack.
“Oh shit,” I whimper, resting my forehead against the wheel and letting myself feel that aching cavity in my chest.
I spend most of my days trying to ignore it, but right now, I let it grow and pulse and burn.
“I miss you,” I whisper.
And a big part of me really hopes he’s at that concert, because I want him by my side at that after-party. Watching over me. Keeping me safe.
More than that, though… I just want to see him again. I want to study his smile and listen to his deep voice. I want to lean against his side and enjoy the feeling of his arm enveloping me.
Are you sure you want to stay single for the rest of your life?
The question taunts me, and I sit back with a loud sniff, wiping my cheeks as if tears have fallen. But none have. My face is as dry as my heart right now.
Doubts curl through me, winding around my rib cage, crawling into my chest and making it tight and uncomfortable.
The truth is, I can cope on my own. That road trip proved it.
And now the question I have to answer is… do I really want to?