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I pushed my way inside and found the place packed. I didn’t see her at first. There was a tight knot of people dancing at the far end of the room, a live band tucked away in one corner. Iscanned the booths and didn’t see her. I didn’t see her at the bar either. Hovering near the entrance, I finally spotted her dancing with some other guy. It was a young buck in a cowboy hat, and he was pawing all over her, holding her close and grinding his hips. She was laughing, one arm draped over his shoulder.
I considered going up to her, removing the cowboy from her erogenous zone, and punching him dead. My headful of beer was cheering me on, feeding me the recklessness I would need. But I was still sober enough to realize what a bad idea that was. I had no right to get between Aly and any other man she wanted to be with. I had given up that right when I told her I wasn’t interested in a relationship.
Punching the new suitor out wasn’t going to help me either. I would likely go to jail, or at the very least get banned from the Lucky Lady. I might even get myself into a bigger fight than I bargained for. If there was one thing eight years of war had taught me, it was that assholes often traveled in packs.
I turned around and left, popping open my last remaining beers on the walk home. I got in the shower, fully clothed, and felt the cold water freezing my veins. After standing under the spray for a half hour, I turned the stream off and slid down into a heap on the shower floor. I must have fallen asleep because the next thing I knew, I was freezing and there was a knock at the door.
Groggy, I pulled myself up and sloshed out of the shower stall. My boots were soaked, but my shirt had dried off a bit. I pulled the boots off and left them in the middle of the bathroom. Now I had wet socks and wet pants, but I wasn’t dragging along heavy shoes. I made a trail of water from the bathroom to the door, like some kind of slime creature, but I didn’t care.
My head was pounding, and I was thirsty as hell. I opened the door to find my father, half concerned, half annoyed, standing at the bottom of the basement steps. He took one look at me and his eyes grew to half the size of his face.
I straightened, as if I could summon any self-respect. He pushed past me, into the bedroom, leaving me to shut the door on my own. I followed him wordlessly, like a puppy that had been scolded.
He went straight to the bureau, pulled out a dry pair of jeans and a shirt, and threw them on the bed. Without giving me any verbal instructions, he breezed past me and shut the bedroom door. I looked at the fresh clothes for a minute without making a move. I was soaked and frozen, but in some ways, that felt right. I had been such an ass. Did I really deserve to be warm and dry?
After a moment of deliberation, I decided to follow my dad’s unspoken advice and get dressed. I stripped down to my birthday suit, removing the cold, heavy clothing. Putting a fresh shirt on, I grabbed some clean boxers from the drawer. When I was dressed, I went back to the living room to face my father.
He had started a fresh pot of coffee. “Sit down,” he commanded.
I went to the table and sat. I almost felt like I wanted to cry, but that was ridiculous. Men shouldn’t cry. “What am I gonna do?” I pleaded.
“You’re going to sober up and make things right with Aly.”
I sniffed. “I can’t. You don’t know what I did to her.”
“Broke her heart? Disrespected her?” Dad guessed.
I nodded glumly.
“Son,” he began. “It’s clear that you’re broken up over this.”
“Everyone is being so nice!” I slammed a fist onto the table. “I’m a horrible person and the entire town is being supportive.”
“For one, you’re not a horrible person. You just made a mistake. And for two, you have a lot of friends here, if you would just take your head out of your ass to see it.”
I allowed a dry chuckle. The coffee pot beeped, and Dad stood up to pour me a cup. I let the smell bring me around. I had been thinking about this all wrong. Ever since my injury, I had been scheming to leave people behind. I wanted independence and I thought that connections would make me vulnerable.
Now it seemed like I was a part of something bigger, as if the town itself were a living organism and I was only one small part. I was bringing conflict and shame to its life, but it had already forgiven me. I didn’t need to escape. I needed to fall in line.
If I could work for good instead of evil, then I could be a benefit to the town instead of a pariah. But even if I consistently fucked up and never told Aly how I felt, the town would still embrace me. I was one of their own, whether I liked it or not.
I was home.
24
ALY
Saturday, I went to work and I saw Linc from across the yard. He was alone, abandoned by his friends, organizing some logs in one of the piles. I put my head down and hurried past. I had thought he was different, but it turned out he was the same as all the rest of the guys in my life. Just like Porter said, all men were hounds.
I stomped my way into the office, pecking out emails with barely concealed fury. Last night at the Lucky Lady was supposed to have ironed out some of these wrinkles, but it seemed to have done little to brighten my mood. In a lucid moment, I decided that I had to give myself time, but that thought was lost in the next second, as memories of Linc and what he had done surfaced.
Damn my traitorous heart for beating faster at the memory of our lovemaking. It had meant nothing to him. He didn’t want a family, and he had taken it out on me. Still, the image of him standing behind me, nailing me against the kitchen sink, sent shivers of delight up my spine. I really was a weak person.
After successfully avoiding him for the rest of the day, I climbed into my car to go home. In the employee parking lot, I saw him coming out of the barn. He was walking with Danny, though they were not talking. He looked up and our eyes met for one brief instant before I turned away and started my engine.
He looked sad. He looked worse than sad; he looked beaten down. I hoped that guilt was eating him alive inside because that was what he deserved. I couldn’t spend too much energy cheering over his discomfort, though, or I would have to admit to myself that I cared. Aside from wanting him to succumb to some horrible fate—death by ants or crushed by a soda machine came to mind—I had to stop myself from thinking about him. It would do no good and only served to keep my wounds from healing.
I drove home. There was no one left to go out with, and even though it was Saturday night, I was beat. I got into my pajamas and sat in front of the television. Picking out a movie, I made sure to choose one with a lot of explosions and very few women. There was still one scene that made me cry. A beautiful woman, wearing much the same outfit as I had worn last night, allowed herself to be seduced by the main character.
