Chapter 10
CHAPTER TEN
Dean
I t’s funny how I’m telling myself I’m not going to karaoke at the Red Lion tonight when I’ve showered, shaved, and dressed for it.
It’s funny how I’m telling myself I am going when I’m pacing the floor on shaking legs, my heart pumping out of control at the prospect of leaving my apartment, my safe space, and heading out for the night with my family and the girl I can’t help wanting.
The feel of her lips brushing against my fucked up neck skin was unbearable in so many ways.
Intense, numb, and yet almost painful in a way I can’t explain.
And so, so good. Good enough that my mind whited out, and I panicked.
I wanted to run as far away from her and the wretched confusion she brings as I could…
Almost as much as I wanted to grab her and crush her to me, to plead with her to do it again, and not to stop even if I begged.
There’s a knock at the door, mercifully interrupting my thought train, but also clanging the alarm. My time is up. Eli and Em are here, and I have to decide right now if I’m going and taking the uncomfortable risks, or staying safely behind and missing out …
“Dean?” Eli’s voice makes me jump because I’m so keyed up. Damn. I’ve been staring at the door rather than answering it.
I open the door and turn away, walking towards my jacket and wondering if I’m going to pick it up and put it on, or hang it back up on its peg and admit defeat. “Are you OK?” Em sounds concerned behind me. I turn, and her eyes widen as she takes in the sweat beading on my forehead.
Eli gives me one of his assessing once-overs. “You don’t have to go if you don’t want to.”
The man knows me.
If I don’t go, I’m letting people down, especially myself.
And Liaden. I’ll look rude, and like I don’t give a shit about spending time with her, when the exact opposite is true.
Even though the plan is to be just good friends, I would never want her to feel like I can’t be bothered.
And given that the thought of missing out on time with her tonight is making me mad with myself, well, god damn it, I have to be there.
I’ve got to get my shit together and go.
If I walk there with Eli and Em, they’ll spend the walk reassuring me, and maybe I’ll feel calmer by the time I get there.
And even if I don’t, I’ll have them there for support.
And besides, I want to go. Even if the very thought of spending an evening in a loud pub, surrounded by people, makes the back of my throat jump with nausea.
There’d be paybacks. Just sitting at the same table as her in the good old familiar Red Lion, socializing like I’m normal, would be the highlight of my damn year. Of my decade, truthfully.
But on the other hand…
If I do go, I’m running a serious risk of a public meltdown.
And then Liaden will see me as I really am: a broken, unsalvageable wreck.
And I just… I want to foster the illusion of not being that in her eyes for just a little longer, even if it’s dishonest, even if misleading her like that makes me a total sack of crap.
I just enjoy the way she looks at me, and flirts with me, as though she thinks I’m a viable dating prospect.
It’s heady, and it makes me feel like a real man. I don’t want to lose that .
And that’s why I don’t think I can do this.
That basic truth grabs hold of my brain with sharp talons as I watch their looks go from concern to resignation.
The wrong song plays, because accidents happen even with Leo paying off the organizer, or the room starts to feel too crowded and too much like a party atmosphere, and at best I’ll clam up and break out into a cold sweat. At best .
At worst…
I don’t even want to think about it, but my brain conjures up the images anyway. Hallucinations. Vomiting. Having to be physically restrained so I don’t hurt anyone else.
Or her.
That’s the worst prospect of all. I could lash out in an unknowing haze, not realizing she was too close and in range. I could seriously injure her…
Not chancing it.
I shake my head. I’ll catch you up, maybe.
I’m…not quite ready yet. My nerves are churning my gut, and even though I haven’t been able to stomach any dinner, I might still end up throwing up.
My palms are slick with hot sweat, hands shaking after those dark thoughts of accidentally hurting Liaden.
I think of her eyebrow, split like Leo’s, blood pissing down her beautiful face…
NO. Never. I will never, ever let that happen, no matter what I have to do. Or not do.
Em and Eli aren’t stupid. They know I’m full of shit, but they don’t try to change my mind.
“Want me to stay behind for a bit?” he offers. I shake my head immediately. I’m still dead set on cutting the ropes that bind him to me, and I’m not letting him miss out on anything for my sake anymore.
And I still need to tell him I have to punk out of his wedding. My throat thickens uncomfortably again.
“Alright, well, text me if you need me to meet you.” He knows I won’t, and I know I won’t, and this whole conversation is one big fakeout waste of time when they could be on their way to a fun evening, so I herd them towards the door, summoning up a vague smile as best I can.
Em’s return smile is slightly sad, but I refuse to think about it.
Once they’ve gone, I sigh with relief, miserable disappointment, and self-loathing. I glance around my room, at the dull emptiness of it all, safe, never changing. For the first time, that feels like a bad thing as well as a good thing.
I haven’t Skyped Mom and Dad yet today, so I try to get myself together enough to do that without them seeing I’ve hit a low point, and then I guess Netflix will once again drown out the horrible noise in my brain for a few more hours.
Eli
“He’s not coming, is he?”
I can hear the disappointment in Em’s quiet voice. I sigh heavily. “I don’t think so, no,” I admit. She squeezes my hand, sympathetic and as sorrowful as I am, and we walk on in companionable silence.
What kills me is I know he wants to go. If the anxiety and panic and PTSD could just be switched off for one night, he’d be there and be the life and soul enough to give Leo a run for his money, muteness be damned.
The Dean I knew before the shooting was always the first person to take part in anything.
He knew everyone, was everyone’s friend.
And there was nothing he enjoyed more than a night out with his pals.
That guy’s gone, for the most part. And I’ve mourned him while his ghost lived beside me, a constant reminder of what was lost.
But then Liaden showed up, and over the past few weeks, I’ve seen odd fragments of the old Dean shine through, like tricks of the light.
She makes him smile in a way I haven’t seen in fifteen years.
That’s huge. And I badly want that to keep happening.
If she can do that for him in just a few weeks, then that’s more than years of therapy has managed.
And all I want is for him to be safe, healthy, and happy .
To have something meaningful in his life that’s just his, and not just tacked on to other people.
For so long I’ve been his rock, and that’s fine by me, and can go on indefinitely as far as I’m concerned.
But there must be more for him in this life than just staying at the edge of mine.
I just want to get a handle on this woman first. See what she’s really like.
And honestly, it’ll be good to observe her when Dean’s not around and she’s being herself, not the version of Liaden Dean sees.
He needs someone who can be strong enough for him to feel safe, but also someone who can pull him out of his bubble and get him to live his life.
I’ve been able to protect him up until now, but the living part…
there is a limit to what I can get him to do.
But she might have a chance at inspiring him to do more. And this might be his best opportunity to have a good life.
I guess there’s only one way to find out.
I swallow my misgivings and take a deep breath. I need to size her up, and, for Dean’s sake, I need to be hard to impress.
Liaden
Just as I reach the door of the Red Lion, I see Sadie heading around the corner towards me.
Thankfully, Peter isn’t with her. Somehow I can’t see him cutting loose with a stirring rendition of I Think We’re Alone Now with the rest of us, and I imagine just the notion of spending a night karaoke-ing with Leona the ghastly foghorn lady would have him screaming for valium.
“Heyyyy!” Sadie treats me to a one armed hug I wasn’t expecting. I hug her right back. “Glad you could make it, and I love your top!”
I look down at the loose black crochet jumper I’m wearing, a perennial favourite for when I gig. I’d considered just wearing a bra underneath it this evening, but I thought that might be a bit over the top, so I went for this hot pink camisole instead.
“That’s kind of a shame,” she says, her eyes twinkling with amusement. Oh. I must have said all that out loud…
I grin sheepishly. “Sorry, I have no filter whatsoever. What I meant to say was, thank you, Sadie, and I like yours, too.” Which is true, not just a polite quid pro quo; she’s wearing a black off the shoulder Fleetwood Mac top with the Rumours album cover on the front.
“Stevie Nicks will always be my one true queen.”