Angel of Redemption (59 page)

I watch her trembling fingers as she writes. When
she’s done she holds it out to me.

“Just leave it there,” I tell her, nodding toward
the counter. “But I’m not promising anything.”

“I know,” she says quietly. “Thank you.”

Stephanie walks toward me. I step back, making it
perfectly clear that I’m uncomfortable, and hold the door open. She gets the
message and passes by me.

“Hey.” She turns. “Uh, I saw your picture in the
paper from that gala thing a few weeks ago. The girl, is she your…”

“Girlfriend.” It rolls off my tongue like I’ve
said it a million times
—I
should
have said it a million
times. What happened with Stephanie was not a relationship. It wasn’t love. It
was a fluke—a messy, juvenile mistake. As I look at her, the idea that my
future with Kayla could be anything like my past with Steph is suddenly
ridiculous.

But Kayla’s not my girlfriend—not
officially—and I have no idea if she’s going to forgive me. I’ve been
pushing her away for months and she’s taken it in stride, but now I may have
pushed her too far.

Stephanie sniffs.
“She’s really pretty.”

“I know.”

She walks through the door, turning back one last
time. “Thank you,
” she whispers.

“I haven’t done anything. And like I said, I’m not
making any promises.”

She smiles lightly.
“You listened. That’s
more than anyone else has done for me.”

I shut the door, twisting the lock and adding the
extra chain across the top. Sitting back down on the couch, my mind is reeling.
I can
’t wrap my head around what just happened.

“Fuck!” I yell, slamming my fist down onto the
coffee table. Guess I’m not sleeping again tonight.

Dean

Steph’s visit totally
fucks me up. I’m like the walking dead on Thursday. I text and call Kayla again
to no avail, which makes me feel even worse.

“What the hell is wrong with you?” Aiden asks.
“Are
you hungover?”

“No,” I grunt.

“Spent all night getting laid?” I walk away from
my brother before I can punch him in the face.

“Hey, sweetie,” Tracey coos as I walk into the
kitchen. She’s doing the breakfast dishes, her hands submerged in soapy water,
but looks up when I grab a glass from above her head. “Oh, Dean. Are you sick?”

I sigh. “I’m just tired.”

She pulls her hands out from the water and dries
them on a towel before touching my face like a mother checking her child’s
temperature.

“You’re warm, honey. Did you get any sleep last
night?”

I try to smile. “I’m fine, T.”

“You don’t look fine. Why don’t you go take a
nap? I’ll bring you some soup and crackers in a little bit.”

As much as I want to argue, I don’t have the
energy. I drag myself to my bedroom. I actually am starting to feel really
shitty
—beyond the not sleeping and the ex-wife visit. I’m suddenly
cold, my skin breaking out in goose bumps.

Crawling under the covers, I try to get warm.
Within minutes, I’m back up again, stumbling my way to the toilet. I don’t even
have the time to lift the seat before I empty the contents of my stomach, which
is essentially coffee and an English muffin. After half a dozen hurls, I begin
to dry heave. When I’m sure there’s nothing left, I fall backward against the
wall and shut my eyes.

“Oh, dear Lord.” I hear Tracey’s voice close by. “Aiden?”

Footsteps echo through my ears. “Ah, fuck!” my brother’s
voice rings out when he sees me.

“No wonder those boys have such filthy mouths.
You two
…”

“Sorry, T. Dean?”

“Hmmm?” I can hear myself respond in my head, but
it doesn’t sound like me at all.

“Can you get up?”

“Mmmmm.”

“Was that a yes or a no?”

“I’m gonna say it was a no.”

“I can get up,” I groan.

“Just don’t spew on me,” my brother says, helping
me stand. I feel really fucking weak. It reminds me of the time that Larry
Rambow beat the shit out me in lockup and left me coughing up blood all over the
cafeteria floor. That was really his name: Rambow. No wonder he was such a mean
motherfucker.

“That’s great, Dean. If I ever meet Larry, I’ll
know how to pay him back.”

“That’s horrible. Aiden, he’s delirious.”

“I’m fine,” I growl, even though I
’m
pretty sure I’m not. They get me back into bed and I feel Tracey’s ice cold
hand on my face again.

“He’s burning up. Will you get me a cold
washcloth, please?”

* * *

“Do you want something to
eat?” Tracey asks the next morning when I finally feel good enough to get out
of bed.

“No,” I grumble, scratching my jaw. After a week
of not shaving, I now have a full beard. Tracey holds out a mug.

“Here, it’s tea to settle your tummy.”

“Can I have coffee?”

“Coffee will agitate your stomach. Stop being
difficult and drink the damn tea.”

I chuckle weakly and take the mug from her. “Thank
you.”

“Are you feeling any better?”

I look up at her. My head is aching, my stomach
is churning, and I
’m pretty sure I still have a fever.

“I’m fine.”

“Mmm,” Tracey hums, narrowing her eyes. “Go back
to bed, Dean. I’ll take care of things today. Aiden’s coming in at seven for the
night shift.”

“Where’s Simon? I thought he was supposed to be
on tonight.”

“He was. He’s sick, too.”

* * *

“Aiden, have you seen my
credit card?” I ask when he comes in that night.

“What are you doing out of bed, dude?”

“Trying to find my fucking credit card,” I snap.

He sighs.
“Which one?”

“Mine. The Chase one.”

“Nope. Sorry. You want me to ask the boys?” Aiden
frowns at me. We hate going there, but occasionally one of them gets sticky
fingers.

“Yeah. Just mention that it’s missing. Chances
are, if one of them has it, it’ll show up mysteriously in a place I’ve already
looked.”

I go back to my office and try to think of the
last place I used it… Hudson’s, the night I went out with Kayla. I pick up my
phone and call. It’s Friday night, so it’ll be busy. Lance is the only one who
picks up the phone during busy hours.

“Hudson’s, this is Lance.”

“Hey, it’s Dean. Did I leave my credit card there
last week?”

“You sound like shit. What’s the matter?”

“I was sick,” I grumble, wiping a bead of sweat
from my temple and swallowing back a wave of nausea.

“Was? I haven’t seen your card, but I’ll check in
the back. Do you want me to send it with your fiancée if I find it?”

“My what?”

“Kayla,” he laughs. “Do you want me to send it
with Kayla?”

“Wait, she’s there?”

“Uh
…yeah.”

“No,
” I rush out. “Don’t worry about it.
Thanks, man.”

I hang up and pull on my coat and hat. It’s been
raining all day, and the air is almost icy. I look like a homeless scrub, but I
can’t be bothered to shave.

“I’m heading out,” I yell to Aiden as I lock my
office door.

“What?” he yelps. “What the fuck do you mean you’re
going out? Dean!”

I ignore him and slam the door behind me. I
’m
really in no shape to be driving, but I need to talk to Kayla.

The parking lot of Hudson’s is packed. There must
be a big game on tonight. I have to park two blocks down. I stumble my way to
the entrance.

“Hi, can I help you?” the hostess asks, looking
me over with a frown.

“No, I’m, uh
…looking for someone.” I scan
the place. I don’t see Kayla anywhere, but over at the bar, I spot Lance
talking to Gage. I swallow hard and make my way over.

“Heeeeey, man.” Gage grins, lifting his fist for
me to bump. His eyes are glassy and heavy, the telltale sign that he’s
completely stoned. I can’t begrudge him his “medicine.” It helps him with the
phantom pain in his amputated leg.

“Hey, G,” I reply, feeling a tremendous amount of
guilt hit me.

“It’s been a long time, brother.”

“Yeah,” I grimace. “Sorry ‘bout that. You know how
busy life gets.” It’s a shit excuse.

“Whatever,” he shrugs. “No biggie.” While part of
me wants to stay and see how Gage is doing, I really just need to find Kayla. I
look over at Lance.

“You look worse than you sound. What the hell are
you doing here?”

“Kayla?”

“I think she just went outside. Patio.”

“Thanks.” I turn toward Gage.
“I’ll catch
you later, G?”

“Sure thing,” he slurs.

I make my way toward the back and out the door. I
see her standing by herself against the railing. Her head is down.

“Hey.”

She jumps. “Jesus, you scared me.”

“Sorry,” I apologize. “You okay?”

She nods, but I don’t believe her. Her eyes aren’t
shining like they usually are. They’re sort of dull and pained. She looks over
me. “Emily said you were sick. Are you feeling better?”

“Yeah,” I lie.
“How have you been?
” I absolutely
hate that we’re resorting to this type of small talk, but it’s my fault. I need
to fix it.

She shrugs. “Busy. Dealing with work and family
shit.”

“Family? Is everyone okay?”

“Yeah, I guess so. My mom and Richard had a
birthday dinner for Claire the other night. For some reason, they invited Andy
and me. Sara came, too.”

“Oh, yeah?” I ask, hoping that moving in this
direction is a good sign in terms of our communication. “How was that?”

“Amazing food, wonderful service, shitty company.
Claire said about three words all night, including ‘hi’ and ‘thank you,’ and my
stepdad was on some sort of a roll. He spent the first half hour yelling at my
mother. Somehow, it was her fault they were out of his favorite bottle of wine.
Then he spent the rest of the night insulting me and bringing up things I’d
rather forget, but hey, it was just family and friends so no big deal, right?”

I scrape my hand over my jaw. I can hear the
agitation in her voice. I should have been there with her
—for her.

“Then he complained about the necklace I gave
her. Apparently, I’m an idiot for not realizing gold is more valuable than
silver at the moment. And Karen’s gift was both inappropriate and cheap. That’s
when Andy and Sara excused themselves, leaving me to the wolves.
”

“I’m sorry,” I say quietly.

“For what?”

I open my mouth. I
’m sorry she had to deal
with her fucker of a stepfather. That she had to do it on her own. That I’ve
been a complete asshole. None of that comes out, though. Instead, a wave of
nasuea hits me, and I swallow the need to vomit.

“What are you doing here, Dean?”

“I came for you.”

She shakes her head, her lips turning downward
into a sad frown. “Why?”

“Because I needed to talk to you.”

“So we can clear the air? So I can say everything
is okay? So you can take me home and fuck me all weekend, and then take off
until you feel the need again?”

“That’s not what happened. I didn’t
—”

“I wasn’t going to push you,” she interrupts. “I
was perfectly content to let things be what they were. I was happy just being
with you, in whatever way, because I
…” her eyes dart around the patio
before coming back to me. “I care about you. But you hurt me. I wasn’t asking
for a commitment, but I
was
under the
impression that friendship—even one with benefits—means not
completely blowing someone off.”

“Hey, Kayla. I thought you might like another
drink.” I turn toward the male voice and nearly lose it when I see who it is. I
look back at Kayla.

“What the fuck?” I spit. Her expression is
controlled. I can’t read it at all. “No fucking way.
” I turn my back to
Brody, blocking him from our conversation, and lean in close. “I’ve spent the
last week trying to figure out how to change myself for you,” I growl. “How to
be the guy you need and want. And you show up at my bar with this douchebag?
This is un-fucking-believable.”

“What are you talking about?
” she says
loudly, causing a few heads to turn our way. “You left me! I never asked you to
change.”

“You didn’t have to.
” I scowl. “You know
what? Forget it.”

She grabs my arm, but I shake her off, slamming
my shoulder into Brody as I leave. I’m pissed and feel like I need to just
fucking hit something—or someone.

“Dean! Hey, what are you doing here?” Emily is
standing in front of me. I don’t even think about what she’s doing here. “Whoa,
what’s the matter with you?”

“Fucking Kayla.”

“What about her? Is she okay? Where is she?”

“She’s on a date. I gotta get out of here.”

“Date? What?”

“Brody or whatever the hell his name is.”

“Oh my God, Dean. Did that fever fry your brain?
She didn’t come here with him. She came here with me! I don’t know where he
came from, but he’s been bugging her all night.”

“Why are you out with her?” I ask, confused.

“Um, because we’re friends. You know, people who
care about each other and want to make things better when someone feels bad.
She’s been depressed all freaking week, and I asked her if she wanted to come
have a drink with me and talk.”

“Talk about what?”

Emily jaw drops. “You cannot be that stupid. Two
weeks ago, you couldn’t keep your hands off her. The way you looked at her,
Dean, I seriously thought there was something there, but you took what you
wanted and bailed on her. If all you wanted was a quick fuck, you should have
told her that and let her make the call.”

“That’s not what I wanted,” I hiss, “but I’m
completely lost on this one. I don’t have a fucking clue how to act around her
anymore. I don’t know how to do relationships. The last one I had is still
fucking me up.”

Emily narrows her eyes. “What the hell are you
talking about? Stephanie? That was over seven years ago. Dean, I love you, you
know that, but you cannot let one single relationship dictate the rest of your
life. Stop letting her do this to you!”

I scowl at Emily. I know she’s right, and I
’m
trying, but that is much easier said than done. Especially now.

I see Brody walk in from the patio. Kayla’s not
with him, and he’s sopping wet. He sits down at the bar looking pissed.

Emily sighs. “I’m going back to my friend. I’ll
call you tomorrow.”