Her face is written in pain, past and present, and fear for more in the future. “I don’t want to hurt you or get hurt, not again. I just don’t know what to do.”
A single tear tracks down her cheek, and I catch it with my thumb, wiping it away. I wish I could wipe whatever’s hurt her away as easily.
“Go on a date with me Saturday.” It’s not a question. It’s a solution to her confusion. “Just to prove to yourself that you can.”
“Bruce, I don’t want to hurt you,” she argues again weakly.
I thump my chest with my palm. “Let me worry about that. You just enjoy figuring out Allyson Meyers again. From what I recall, she’s a hell of a woman, a spitfire rebel who danced on the roof of my truck, lived without fear, and was willing to try just about anything once. Maybe twice just to be sure,” I say with a shit-eating grin, memories racing through my mind in flashes of our past.
She nibbles her lip uncertainly, but after what feels like a lifetime but truthfully is only a few seconds, she smiles. “Okay. A date.”
She’s probably gonna freak about this later, but I’m absolutely going to hold her to her word. In the meantime, I kiss her lips once more, hard and rough to build up her need. She might not know her heart, but I know her body. I want her to think of this later when she panics and when she touches herself.
The water turns off down the hall, calling our moment of alone time to a halt.
“Tell Cooper good night for me. I’ll see you on Saturday for practice, and then I’ll pick you up at seven for our date.” I scan her face, looking for any sign of an impending freakout I need to address before I leave, but I find none. She looks . . . hopeful?
One last quick peck and I’m out the door.
I think I did the right thing. I hope I did. I’m going to help her find herself if it’s the last thing I do, even if my heart breaks again in the process. But maybe I can help put hers back together instead?
Chapter 20
Allyson
“I can’t do this.” My reflection looks back at me with fear-filled eyes as I shake my head.
From the bed behind me, Michelle’s bored voice repeats the same thing she’s been telling me for the last twenty minutes. “Yes, you can. Yes, you are.”
“I shouldn’t do this.” Maybe a different argument will get her to see reason?
“Yes, you should.”
No dice, apparently. I plop down on the bed beside her, blowing a loose curl of hair out of my eyes. “Michelle, I’m serious. This is such a bad idea. I’m going to hurt Bruce, or I’m going to get my heart broken, or we’re both going to end up mad again.”
Michelle flops back on the bed and closes her eyes. “Tell me again.”
I’ve already told her all about my conversation with Bruce, and I mindlessly repeat it again, focusing mostly on what he said. I don’t know how he ever thought himself only a ‘dumb jock’ because he’s one of the most perceptive people I’ve ever known.
I’ve been thinking about everything he said, turning it over in my mind time and time again, evaluating and analyzing from every angle.
I’ve worked hard to let the past go, but I won’t argue that it’s shaped my thoughts, reactions, hopes. And Bruce’s learning all that, the down and dirty of my last ten years, is inevitable with the way he notices every single thing about me. I don’t want to be lessened in his eyes when he finds out.
That’s my real fear, I guess.
What if I don’t date anymore, not because of Cooper like I’ve been telling myself but because I’m broken, unsalvageable? I’m a walking, talking FUBAR—Fucked Up Beyond All Repair despite all the work I’ve put into being better. And I am better, so much better that I want to grab up the me of years ago and shake the ever lovin’ shit outta her.
But the scars and the shame run deep. Even so, I don’t want to be FUBARed anymore. And Bruce makes me hope that maybe I won’t always be.
“Whatever roller coaster you just went on, that’s the real shit you need to dig out and deal with.” Michelle’s voice breaks into my train of thought, and I peek over to find her watching me closely through narrowed eyes. “With yourself, with him, or hell, with me, if you want.”
I shrug, not sure whether I want to share all that with her. She knows a little about my marriage but respectfully tiptoed around my boundaries when I clammed up about the details and has never toed the line again. She’s a great friend.