Chapter 16 - Dawson #2
“Wait and see,” I said, keeping my eyes on the road, though I caught the way her gaze flicked to mine. I liked the light, playful turn the night had taken.
Minutes later, we eased into a cramped lot. Neon bled from a battered sign above a dive bar. Paint peeling, the kind of place you pass a dozen times without even noticing.
She peered out the window. “Are you sure this is the right place?”
“Trust me.” I offered my hand, and she took it, stepping onto the cracked sidewalk beside me. The bass thumped out from the bar, gritty and unpolished, determined to shake our formal wear straight off.
“I used to come here all the time back in the day,” I said. “Before I was Dawson Barnett, captain and star winger for the Golden Knights.”
A slow smile crept onto her face. “Now I’m really intrigued.”
She let me lead her through the door, and instantly the place came alive with recognition.
It had been years, but regulars looked up, lifting their drinks in greeting.
Some shouted my name. I kept my hand on hers, squeezing lightly in a bid to assure her this wasn’t going to be a repeat of what happened at Mandalay Bay.
“This is Carissa,” I said to everyone we passed. No qualifiers, no labels. Just her.
One guy at the bar grinned, lifting his phone. “Dawson, can I get a photo? My nephew’s gonna get a kick out of this.”
Before I could reply, a voice barked over him. “I don’t run that kind of establishment.”
Marlena, the owner who carried her years proudly, shooed him away. She pivoted, letting out a laugh that carried a familiar warmth, and pulled me into a crushing hug. I peeked over her shoulder, and caught Carissa stifling a laugh behind her hand, averting her eyes.
“I thought I was never gonna see you again. Now you’re a big star and all.” When she finally let me go, she almost seemed sad to do it.
I gestured to Carissa. “This is Carissa. I wanted her to see my favourite hang-out.”
The woman’s eyes flicked to Carissa, approving, then she guided us toward a quiet booth in the back. “A nice quiet spot for you and your… friend.”
“Oh, we really are just friends.”
Marlena shot me a knowing wink. “Sure you are, honey. I’ll go get you some beers.”
The faintest smile on Carissa’s face lingered a while after we’d been left alone, unmistakable although she tried to hide it, fingering a peeling corner of the specials menu.
“We’re painfully overdressed for this place,” she said after some time. “People are staring.”
“That’s just the effect you have on a room.”
Her eyes shot up, and only then did I realize I’d spoken the words out loud. Which, all things considered, was less than ideal.
“I’m going to pretend I didn’t say that, or blame my bowtie for choking the filter out of my brain.”
“Personally, I never cared much for pretending,” she said, her smile softening as she held my gaze. “And I kind of like your brain without a filter.”
“You do?”
She gave the slightest nod. Barely there. The air between us had pulled taut, practically cracking with electricity.
“We’ve only just walked in, but already you look more relaxed than I’ve seen you all… ever.”
Marlena slid two bottles onto the table with a look that promised commentary later and vanished again.
Condensation slicked the glass, pooling against my knuckles when I pulled one closer.
The booth felt tucked away from the rest of the bar, vinyl warm from earlier bodies, the music duller back here. Manageable. Human-sized.
Carissa curled her fingers around the neck of her beer and tipped it toward me. “To bailing on parties with stuffy dress codes.”
I clinked mine against it. “To surviving the fallout.”
She laughed and took a drink, eyes bright, shoulders easing out of the awkward tension they’d been holding. This place did that to people. It stripped the shine, and left the bones. A sanctuary in every meaning of the word.
We talked about nothing at first. The drive.
The cool sign outside. How good it felt to leave the flashing lights behind for a bit.
Once the conversation flowed to talking about the weather, the heat under my collar was out of control.
I stuck with it though, following her lead and keeping things one hundred percent platonic.
I had no idea of how things stood between Boone and her, and so had no business pushing for anything else.
Our stories braided without effort. When there was a pause, it didn’t scrape.
Everything just felt… easy.
Marlena passed again, eyebrow lifting. “You good back here?”
“Perfect,” I said, with no need to lie.
Carissa watched her go. “She’s like a mother hen. Adorable.”
“She is,” I said. “Kept me fed when my fridge was nothing more than a science project. Kept my head on straight in the time my name wasn’t on anyone’s radar.”
“A good woman.”
I drank to that. The beer was cold and unpretentious. It tasted like Friday nights before everything came with pressure and expectations. I felt my shoulders drop another inch.
Songs switched in the jukebox. Something familiar. A beat that lived in the hips. A couple near the bar started moving, laughter spilling. Carissa glanced that way, then back at me, eyes asking without really asking.
“I’ve seen you shred the ice, but do you dance?”
I choked on my sip of beer, and set the bottle down with a spluttering cough. “Only in places with low light, where two left feet go unnoticed.”
She slid out of the booth and took my hand. “This qualifies.”
The floor was crowded but forgiving. Her hand was still in mine, which felt dangerous, so I focused on the music instead. On the way her body moved with mine, confident and unguarded. Her smile kept finding me, and I stopped pretending I didn’t notice how it was specifically meant for me.
When the song ended, she didn’t let go right away. Neither did I. We walked back to the booth together, the air warmer than ever now. Or maybe it was just me.
“I hope you’re in the mood for a trip.” Marlena stood at our booth, waiting, and I instantly recognized the book she was hugging close to her chest.
Carissa looked from me to Marlena. “A trip?”
“Please, don’t,” I groaned.
But I should’ve known better than to think what I wanted held any kind of weight. Marlena sat down and patted the empty space beside her. Carissa hesitated, but once she realized what the book was about, her eyes danced with delight and she slid in beside her.
“This is so unnecessary,” I said, taking a seat opposite them.
Marlena held up a finger to silence me, already paging to the first array of newspaper clippings. The book was bursting with more of the same—her carefully curated archive that spanned my career from as early as junior leagues. Decades-old headlines, and grainy photos that showcased my goofy hair.
“Your tooth!” Carissa exclaimed, then burst out laughing. They’d paged to the clipping of my first big title win. I was front and center, grinning wide with one tooth missing.
“It was a rough game.” I took an extra-long sip of my beer to disguise the heat coloring my face.
“Look at this one.” Marlena was a woman on a mission, but I couldn’t be mad about it. There was nothing but love and pride in her voice as she took Carissa on a trip down memory lane.
“Aw, baby Dawson,” she said, tracing a picture with the lightest touch. “You look so… young.”
“I was.”
Her smile softened. “I meant happy. You look happy.”
I swallowed hard. I was grateful for coming up the way I did, but I didn’t spend too much time dwelling on what it was like. There was too much to think about now. Too much at stake to bother with ‘happy’. But that was something I couldn’t explain. You either got it, or you didn’t.
“She’s right,” Marlena said.
I took another sip. “Nasty habit of hers. Can’t say I’m crazy about it.”
Their laughter lifted the weight in my gut, and the mood shifted. Thankfully. I continued watching them gush over my past, taking the side commentary with as much grace as I could manage.
“Here… This is my favorite.” Marlena flattened the yellowed pages with both her hands as she pointed out the biggest photo in the spread. “The day he got his jersey. Look at that face.”
“Handsome, right?”
But she ignored me, and went on. “For years I had to listen to him go on and on about how he was going to play for the Golden Knights one day. ‘I’m gonna be a Knight, Mar. Just you wait.’”
“You never said I was wrong,” I quipped.
“Because I never thought you were,” she replied without missing a beat. “I saw the heart in you, and knew you could do anything you put your mind to.”
This time when Carissa looked at me, her eyes held the shadow of something I hadn’t seen before. A haze that made them sparkle in the dim yellow light of the bar.
“He’s still all heart,” she said softly, almost to herself. “Even though he tries to hide it.”
Marlena nudged her with an elbow. “We know better, don’t we?”
“Are you two about finished with all this?” I waved my empty beer bottle. “Some of us are working up a thirst listening to you go on and on about days gone by.”
Not exactly the most subtle of hints, but it did the job. Marlena eased out of the booth with a sigh, and took her book of memories with her. “Another round coming up.”
Another song started. Slower. Carissa rested her chin on her hands and gazed at me across the table, unreadable thoughts streaming behind her eyes.
“I bet you’re relieved to exist in my good-hair era.”
She didn’t laugh, but her smile didn’t waver either. “Pressure changes things. I get it.”
“Yeah.”
“Not wanting to disappoint anyone. The weird guilt that comes with wanting more…”
“Yeah.” I felt like a fool for not being more profound, but it was the only thing I could find in my head. She was so right, and so goddamn beautiful. A knot twisted in my gut.
“You’re different here,” she said, glancing around.
“Am I?”
“Looser,” she said. “Not the captain version.”
“I don’t bring him everywhere.”
“I’m glad,” she said.