think anyone ever will again.
I wish I could put into words how happy I am when I'm with you. I want you to know that I'll think of you often and it will always put a smile on my face.
I'll find you when I come home.
I love you.
Dean
A tear fell onto the paper, turning the white paper translucent. I quickly wiped it off before it could smear the ink, then pressing the paper into my chest. I felt heavy and light at the same time. I wanted to sing and cry and dance and scream all at once.
Dean loved me.
Chapter 17
T wo Years Ago
I had to turn on the GPS guidance on my phone when I got into town. Everything was different, and even though the bar was still in the same spot, the buildings, and even the beach, were not. I finally found it, maneuvering the rental car into the quiet parking lot.
What had once been the hottest disco bar in the small town was now a rundown country bar. Gravel and sand crunched under my feet as I headed up the rickety wooden steps toward the open door. It looked as though they had covered the open air portion of the bar. Bad country music blared out into the parking lot, the dim light from the bar glowing neon yellow and red.
Inside, a girl with full tattoo sleeves leaned against the jukebox, feeding it quarters and singing along with the music. I could see where a fight had occurred earlier, a chair in pieces by the door. Several males were in a smoky corner, taking turns around a faded green pool table, but I wasn't there for them. I was there for the long-legged man sitting hunched at the bar, surrounded by empty whiskey glasses.
The bartender stood behind the bar, wiping a glass clean with a dirty towel. He saw me walk in, his eyes going up and down, and then again. He nodded toward Dean, setting the clean glass in a rack by the sink. I walked confidently to the tall bar.
"Dean, what are you doing?" I asked. Dean turned, his eyes languid but unsurprised.
"Getting drunk off my ass. Care to join me?"
"No. I want to get you to a hotel and me on a plane. It's time for us to go," I said. I grabbed his arm, feeling the strong muscle tense underneath my fingers. He pulled away from me, shaking his head.
"Leave me alone. It's what you're good at." He turned back to the bar, motioning for another whiskey. The bartender pretended not to see him.
His words stung. We had been politely distant since his hire, but that was as much his fault as mine. I wondered if he had been as lonely as I had. I sighed. We needed to fix this if we were going to work together. Our stony silence was not conducive to a working relationship, and with Jack transitioning to power in the next few weeks, Dean and I were going to be put together more and more often.
"Two whiskeys, neat." I motioned to the bartender. He quickly poured to whiskeys into glasses, sliding them directly to me. I picked them both up, stepping back and heading toward a small booth against the wall. I stopped and held one out to Dean. "Come sit with me. Like old times."
He looked at me warily, but then stood. Even while inebriated he moved with a deadly grace. He sat in the cheap plastic booth, taking the whiskey glass from me and nursing it gently. His eyes, those oceans of blue, watched me carefully. I took the whiskey in one swig.
"Will you tell me what you are doing here? This is a little out of the way to stop for a drink on the way home." I glanced around the bar. Our relationship was like this bar: once beautiful but now rundown and empty.
Dean sipped at his drink and cautiously eyed me. "Reliving old wounds."
I bit the inside of my cheek. I didn't want to be vain, but I had a feeling he was at least partially referencing me. "You want to talk about it?"
"What? Are we friends now?" Dean sneered and finished his drink. He motioned to the bartender for another and I nodded approval.
"Listen, Dean, I know we have some issues. I'd like to change that. Can we just pretend we never met each other until your interview? Water under the
I wish I could put into words how happy I am when I'm with you. I want you to know that I'll think of you often and it will always put a smile on my face.
I'll find you when I come home.
I love you.
Dean
A tear fell onto the paper, turning the white paper translucent. I quickly wiped it off before it could smear the ink, then pressing the paper into my chest. I felt heavy and light at the same time. I wanted to sing and cry and dance and scream all at once.
Dean loved me.
Chapter 17
T wo Years Ago
I had to turn on the GPS guidance on my phone when I got into town. Everything was different, and even though the bar was still in the same spot, the buildings, and even the beach, were not. I finally found it, maneuvering the rental car into the quiet parking lot.
What had once been the hottest disco bar in the small town was now a rundown country bar. Gravel and sand crunched under my feet as I headed up the rickety wooden steps toward the open door. It looked as though they had covered the open air portion of the bar. Bad country music blared out into the parking lot, the dim light from the bar glowing neon yellow and red.
Inside, a girl with full tattoo sleeves leaned against the jukebox, feeding it quarters and singing along with the music. I could see where a fight had occurred earlier, a chair in pieces by the door. Several males were in a smoky corner, taking turns around a faded green pool table, but I wasn't there for them. I was there for the long-legged man sitting hunched at the bar, surrounded by empty whiskey glasses.
The bartender stood behind the bar, wiping a glass clean with a dirty towel. He saw me walk in, his eyes going up and down, and then again. He nodded toward Dean, setting the clean glass in a rack by the sink. I walked confidently to the tall bar.
"Dean, what are you doing?" I asked. Dean turned, his eyes languid but unsurprised.
"Getting drunk off my ass. Care to join me?"
"No. I want to get you to a hotel and me on a plane. It's time for us to go," I said. I grabbed his arm, feeling the strong muscle tense underneath my fingers. He pulled away from me, shaking his head.
"Leave me alone. It's what you're good at." He turned back to the bar, motioning for another whiskey. The bartender pretended not to see him.
His words stung. We had been politely distant since his hire, but that was as much his fault as mine. I wondered if he had been as lonely as I had. I sighed. We needed to fix this if we were going to work together. Our stony silence was not conducive to a working relationship, and with Jack transitioning to power in the next few weeks, Dean and I were going to be put together more and more often.
"Two whiskeys, neat." I motioned to the bartender. He quickly poured to whiskeys into glasses, sliding them directly to me. I picked them both up, stepping back and heading toward a small booth against the wall. I stopped and held one out to Dean. "Come sit with me. Like old times."
He looked at me warily, but then stood. Even while inebriated he moved with a deadly grace. He sat in the cheap plastic booth, taking the whiskey glass from me and nursing it gently. His eyes, those oceans of blue, watched me carefully. I took the whiskey in one swig.
"Will you tell me what you are doing here? This is a little out of the way to stop for a drink on the way home." I glanced around the bar. Our relationship was like this bar: once beautiful but now rundown and empty.
Dean sipped at his drink and cautiously eyed me. "Reliving old wounds."
I bit the inside of my cheek. I didn't want to be vain, but I had a feeling he was at least partially referencing me. "You want to talk about it?"
"What? Are we friends now?" Dean sneered and finished his drink. He motioned to the bartender for another and I nodded approval.
"Listen, Dean, I know we have some issues. I'd like to change that. Can we just pretend we never met each other until your interview? Water under the
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