47. Dee
Chapter forty-seven
Dee
The day after my interview, I hide in bed until I have to get ready for my shift. Olivia from HR called me an hour ago to tell me Stonewell wants to offer me the job.
I should feel relieved. I’m not in a position to turn him down with an apartment to pay for, a dwindling savings account, and only a part-time job under my belt, but the thought of having to set foot in that building again has the contents of my stomach curdling.
I told her I would have my answer by Monday.
The thought of making that call to accept the position is so fucking depressing I want to jump right back into bed.
I begged the girls to be my human shield tonight in case things get weird with Dylan, but they all had plans. That is, I thought so until I find Carissa sitting at the bar across from me.
“This is fun,” Carissa yells over the crowd, placing her purse on the bar top. “Why haven’t we had a girls’ night here yet?”
I bite my lip to keep from getting emotional. Fuck, why am I emotional?
It’s always harder to hold it together around the people who love you. The people who show up to hold you while you fall apart. Carissa’s compassion has always been stronger than most. I know that’s why she’s such a wonderful nurse, and an even better friend.
“Thank you for coming,” I say, reaching my hand across the bar. She smiles back at me and gives my hand a squeeze. “I know you’re always wiped after work. It means a lot having you here.” I shake my head. “And probably because girls’ night is more fun when I’m not working.”
She laughs. “Fair enough. What’s the best drink here? I need a good one after the shift I had today.”
I grimace. “Honestly? Draft or bottled beer. You don’t want me mixing your drink. I’m better, but I’m not great.”
She laughs and I grab her a drink before helping the couple next to her.
It’s not too busy tonight. I have no idea which bands are playing, but the crowd appears to mostly include people in their thirties dressed casually.
“How are you holding up? Is he here?” Carissa looks around, presumably trying to locate Dylan.
“I’m fine.” I start washing the dishes in the bins underneath the bar top. “We’ve been giving each other space. I guess that’s easier while we try to figure out the new normal between us now that we’re not living together.”
“You’re talking about it like you guys were just roommates and not…” Carissa shakes her head, her brow furrowed.
“We were just roommates.”
“Dee.”
Yeah, I don’t sound all that convincing.
But it’s true. We never talked about what we were or what we wanted to be.
So roommates is the only thing to call us.
Well, not anymore. Now, we’re friends or coworkers, I guess.
Neither of those labels soothes the ache that’s taken up residence in my chest since Dylan took the last of his stuff with him and left our… my apartment.
“Okay. We were roommates who liked to have sex.”
“And spend birthdays together,” she offers, unhelpfully. “What else? Oh, meet each other’s family. Go on vacation together.”
“But most importantly, the sex.”
She sighs, sympathy dripping from every word as she says gently, “You’re going to have to admit to yourself that you either need to talk to Dylan about fixing this or you’re going to have to find a way to move on.
Because like it or not, there was something between you, and for some reason, both of you decided to leave it behind. ”
“And what if I can’t face it?”
“Since when is Deanna Perry afraid of anything?” she asks, smirking at me.
I shake my head. Fuck. When did I let that happen?
But that’s what Dylan said too, isn’t it? That I was letting fear drive me. But is it really fear, or is it smart to not overcommit when I’m trying to figure out the rest of my life?
“It means more…with him,” I admit. “What if we fuck it up?”
After I’ve said the words, I realize what’s been holding me back. Dylan has been a constant in my life for years. Living with him only showed me more of who he is, and I loved everything about him. A life with him would be anything but boring. It’s terrifying to find that…to want that.
The last six months have felt like a constant upheaval in my life. My career, my living situation, my friendship with Dylan morphing into something I depend on. I don’t want to lose him too.
Then there’s this small voice, one I haven’t heard in years, wondering if there’s a part of Dylan that will someday decide that I’m too much for him to handle.
I don’t ever want to be with someone who doesn’t love all of me.
Maybe that girl growing up with a huge sidecar of emotional baggage and self-doubt isn’t all that confident like she pretends to be.
Maybe there’s still this person inside of me who wants to protect herself… to avoid having something worth losing.
“But what if you don’t?” Carissa asks with a smile.
“Who made you the champion of love and relationships?” I ask, almost regretting the question when I see a wave of sadness overtake her expression.
She turns thoughtful. “I’m no expert, you know that. My relationship record is short and unimpressive, to say the least. But after a little bit of time by myself—and a lot of chocolate-covered pretzels—I’m happy to say I still believe love is out there for all of us.”
“Where can I get some of those pretzels?”
We laugh and I help a few more customers while we wait for the show to start. I feel lighter than I have in days, and I thank Carissa again for taking the trip tonight.
Typically, the opening band will kick off the night, playing a few songs, leading in for the headlining band. But tonight, I don’t hear music signaling the show is starting. I hear Dylan.
“Hello, everyone. Thank you for joining us tonight for the first of what I hope is many community concerts for our youngest musicians.”
He’s standing alone on stage, the purple curtain drawn behind him. I bite my lip, taking in his black jeans, boots, and black T-shirt. It takes me all of two seconds to mentally undress him…then regretfully, mentally put on his clothes again.
He smiles, and the tugging of my heart against my rib cage shakes me to my core. Like all of me wants to be pulled into his arms. Across a crowded hall, and he still has this effect on me.
I can’t ignore this anymore. I need to talk to him tonight.
I shake off my thoughts, finally taking in what he’s saying about investing in the people around us, finding new ways to inspire new artists and young voices.
“I thought I said no to this kind of thing.” A man appearing to be in his late sixties steps up to the bar, watching Dylan.
“You did,” Vicki confirms, meeting his startled gaze.
“He decided he was done listening to nonsense. I invited you here so that you could see all that you’ve been missing.
” She points to the stage. “You need to consider what this place could be if you put it in good hands. The same hands you’ve trusted to run it all these years. ”
My eyes water and gratitude washes over me. This must be Ed, the owner of the Bridge. And Vicki made sure he was here tonight.
“Thank you all for sharing your families’ talents with us. It’s my sincere hope that we’ll get to see more from these future stars. They already shine brighter than the skyline.”
Dylan walks off stage, the curtain dragging over the floor as it opens wide to reveal…
kids. There’s got to be almost twenty kids on stage—maybe between eight and thirteen years old—all with various instruments.
Six singers, a few keyboardists, guitarists, and bass players.
There are four drum sets arranged in the middle of the stage behind the singers.
I squint, trying to figure out if I really see…
“Uh, Dee?” Carissa asks. “Is that your niece? Did I just walk on the set of School of Rock?”
I shake my head as I scan the crowd again, spotting Kai and Morgan off to the side, taking pictures of Emi.
Emi stands and bangs her drumsticks together, screaming at the top of her lungs, “A-one, a-two, a-one, two, three, four!”
My ears are assaulted with the most chaotic musical arrangement I’ve ever heard in my life.
The amount of passion and enthusiasm pouring out of each kid as they perform is truly something special to witness.
After a few minutes, the first song wraps.
With every song, their nerves seem to settle, and their playing only improves.
By the end of the show, everyone is dancing and cheering, and the applause is louder than most of our typical concerts.
Tears find their way to my cheeks and my heart squeezes as I see Dylan rejoin the kids on stage and he motions for them to take a bow, first by section, then again as a group.
I laugh as Emi races toward Dylan and forces him to bow as well. He might look more bashful than I’ve ever witnessed, but he does it, and her grin is contagious as he smiles back at her.
Then his eyes lock with mine. And I give him the brightest smile I can before I whistle and clap along with the crowd. The curtain closes and I realize I’m crying behind the bar. I quickly wipe my cheeks.
“Well, that was unexpected,” Carissa muses, studying me carefully with a knowing grin.
“It was a long time coming,” Vicki says confidently.
“I can’t believe they pulled it off,” I say. “Those kids just had the night of their lives.”
Ed stands there uncomfortably before Dylan joins us. I expect him to go to Ed, to talk to him about what he just did against his wishes, but he comes straight to me.
“Well, that was quite the show,” I say quietly.
“Here. I figured by the surprised look on your face, you didn’t see a copy of tonight’s program.”
I take the pamphlet from him, confused until I look it over, my eye catching on the dedication at the bottom.
This show is dedicated to Deanna, for letting me borrow her bravery. For reminding me to fight for this.
“Dylan, I—”
“That was something else, Brooks,” Ed says, voice stern.
Dylan looks surprised to see him.
“I guess I didn’t make myself clear when I said I wasn’t willing to invest resources into events like this.”
I sense a shift in Dylan, more attuned to him than I realized. His back straightens and his voice is steady when he says, “These are the events that deserve the investment. But if it’s a hardship, I will fund the cost of tonight’s show myself.”
Ed bristles, clearly called to answer for insinuating that a kid’s concert should come second to financial gain.
“We can talk particulars…” Ed shifts uneasily, checking his watch.
“We can, and we will. Ed, I have always respected you. I have given my all to this place, to its staff, to the community that comes together inside these walls. The Bridge isn’t just an investment to me.
It isn’t a profit margin or a bottom line or a means to an end.
It’s a haven for people who want to feel something, who want to create something, who want to witness something.
I forgot to fight for that.” He gives me a look, and my heart swells with pride.
“If you sell this building to the highest bidder, I’ll understand your decision, though I won’t agree with it.
But if you sell it to me, I will make you a fair offer, and I will make it matter.
Like it matters to the kids you saw here tonight. ”
Ed stares at Dylan. Dylan stands proudly, his shoulders back and a renewed strength radiating from him. His presence feels larger than life. I’m so proud of him, I could scream.
I nearly do, about to jump in and give this Ed a piece of my mind, when he surprises us all…
“You’re right,” Ed says. “I know you’re right.
I’ve been ready to retire for years; I don’t need the profit, like you said.
I lost sight of that. I lost sight of everything that I felt in this building when I found it decades ago.
Let’s sit down next Friday and talk specifics.
” He reaches a hand out for Dylan, who shakes it.
I catch the slight tremor before he can hide his nerves, and a wave of affection floods my veins.
He did it. And he was terrified. My turn.