Sidelined: A Wilde Players Dirty Romance (3 page)

“We hurt each other,” I admit. “I could have gone—”

“He could have not been like every other man out there either.”

“Don’t, Gina. As much as I want to hate him, he’s a good guy.” I nearly choked the words out. “He got caught up in the game.”

“Yeah, the game of
follow his dreams, he says
. Forget about yours.”

“Let’s not go there. Just give me the drink.”

She harrumphs. “He’s got you all hot and bothered again.” I flip her the bird, but she doesn’t see it because she stares toward the door. “Speak of the devil.”

I turn to find Fletcher lumbering through the door. Hastily, I swing my head around and pray he doesn’t notice me.

He saddles up to the end of the bar nearest the door and calls out, “I have a takeout order to pick up.”

There are many places to eat in town, but we used to come here a lot long ago. So it isn’t surprising to see him here. The bar has the best wings and fries basket, which is popular when watching the games on the big TVs mounted on the walls.

“Name,” Gina says sweetly.

“Cut the crap, Gina. You know damn well who I am.” His voice is as gruff as it always is, and it stokes all the hidden places on my body. I squeeze my legs shut.

Gina glances my way, and I look over at the wall and pray again to any god that will hear me that he doesn’t see me.

“Would that be under Fletcher or
Fickle
or maybe
Fucknut
?”

His sigh is long-suffering. “I get it. You believe I made a serious
fubar
with your girl, so you’re doing your best Rottweiler impression. But I’m having a shit day, and I just want to eat. Can we call a truce?”

Gina eyes him up and down. “I don’t know, can we?” She drums her fingers on the counter as if in contemplation. His earnest eyes grow weary as he watches her and hasn’t noticed me. At least I don’t think he has. “Actually, we can’t. We don’t serve fuckers like you here.”

My bestie isn’t budging, and I decide to give him a pass and out myself.

“Gina, get the guy his food.”

She rolls her eyes in my direction, before rolling them again. “Fine. Give me a minute.”

“Thank you,” he says. But it wasn’t clear exactly who he was saying it to.

Gina heads to the back where the food is prepared. I turn away, toward one of the TVs mounted on the opposite wall, and pretend to watch baseball.

It’s not late, yet I’m not surprised when the door opens and a man drunkenly stumbles into the bar. The once beautiful man with bright eyes and big dreams looks disheveled and unshaven in the most undignified way.

“There you are,” he announces, stabbing a finger in my direction.

Mentally I count to three while I load my lungs with some calming air. I don’t want to have a knock-down, drag-out argument with my ex here, especially with Fletcher to witness my shame.

“Calvin,” I say when he gets close.

“Cassidy,” he mocks as if I’d said his name like a curse. And maybe I had.

“Why are you here? You’re drunk, and you shouldn’t be driving.”

“It’s a free world, and I’m here because you owe me.”

My jaw aches as I grind my teeth together. “I don’t owe you anything. You took everything and left me with a bunch of bills I’m still paying off.”

So far our conversation has been halfway civil. No yelling, not yet at least. Of course, that thought comes a moment too soon.

“You still owe me for the house.”

“The house is mine. You know this. It states it in our settlement.”

“I want my share when you sell it.”

There really wasn’t a reason to answer him, as we’ve had this conversation several times since the divorce, but I do anyway. “I haven’t sold it. And I don’t plan to anytime soon.”

“That’s not fair. I need the money.”

A different voice enters the mix. “Is there a problem?”

Calvin has to look up to see Fletcher looming over him. That doesn’t stop the fool. He’s too drunk and too stupid to care he could never win a fight if it comes down to that.

“I’m talking to my wife, so buzz off.”

Fletcher’s eyes flick to mine, and I sigh. He’s going to find out soon enough anyway.

I say to Calvin, “I’m not your wife, nor have I been for over a year. Just leave, and take a cab.”

“Don’t you worry about me, Cassie, unless you want me to give you a ride for old time’s sake? Word has it you’ve been keeping those pretty legs of yours closed tight.”

What the hell? Is he keeping tabs on me? A bonfire rages in my cheeks.

“I think it’s time for you to leave,” Fletcher warns.

Out of the corner of my eyes, I see Gina approach. “It is time for you to leave, Calvin. You know I can’t serve you.”

“Two bitches and Paul Bunyan. You all can fuck yourselves.”

He makes his way for the door, and I mutter to no one, “I hope he’s not driving.” Because despite it all, I don’t want him to get hurt. Somewhere in there was the man I thought I loved or at least cared deeply about at one point in my life.

“He’s not,” Gina says, answering my question. Her eyes are glued to the front window.

Idling at the curb is a car all too familiar to me. It belongs to Calvin’s trashy girlfriend he’d cheated on me with. Apparently, she’s supported him through his joblessness. Not financially, that had been me. I’d nagged him too much to find a job, so he found her instead. That was his excuse at least. His unemployment checks must have run out and now he is back to bothering me.

“Here’s your food.” Gina hands a bag to Fletcher while maintaining her scowl.

My bestie stands in as the line drawn in the sand between me and all my bad mistakes.

Fletcher glances at me, but I look away. “Here, keep the change,” he says to Gina before limping off.

After the door closes behind him, she says, “Seriously, girl, you and I need to have ourselves a night on the town.”

“Can I get that drink?”

She gives me the saddest smile which mirrors my inner turmoil. I certainly know how to pick ’em.

Only before I get my drink, Fletcher comes back in spouting curses like a man who stepped in dog shit.

“Gina!” he shouts. Her eyes narrow, and I wonder what’s crawled up his ass in a short time.

Pushing locks that are midnight black from her face, her glare pins me as she stomps over to him.

“Yes.”

The word is clipped, and if Fletcher knows what is coming he’d back down from the mad he’s sporting.

His fist hits the bar top. “Do you have the number to the garage the…”

“Wilson’s,” Gina finishes for him.

“Yeah, the Wilson’s still run it?”

She nods. “I do. But,” she eyes the clock over the bar, “they should be closing for the day.”

“Closing? What the fuck is wrong with this town? Give me the number anyway.”

Gina eyes me, and I nod. He’d been kind of cute coming to my rescue with Calvin. Gina glares at me but rattles off the number anyway. Cars break down all the time in town. Most folks don’t own brand new ones, so everyone knows the number for the garage.

Fletcher is a big guy with deep lungs and his voice carries as he speaks into the phone. “What? I need a tow. No, it can’t wait until fucking tomorrow. Wait, I’ll pay—”

He stares at the phone, and I know he’s been cut off.

“Goddamn townies.”

“You know what—” Gina begins.

I let out a sigh resigned to what I have to do. Walking over from my spot, I stand in front of my first love. “I know it’s been a while, but things move slowly here. Troy is never going to come for your truck now. I’ll give you a ride home and sweet talk him tomorrow into forgiving your shits of the mouth.”

“Shits of the mouth?”

Goddamn, if he doesn’t look so cute perplexed.

“Come on, Fletch. Let’s go.”

“What about my truck?”

“You can sleep with your truck and make babies for all I care. But if you want to get home, you’re going to have to part ways with her for the night and catch a ride home with me.”

He’s had that truck since high school. I don’t understand why he still has it, but I don’t wait for his answer. I prowl out into the growing dusk, and he follows way too close. Any closer and my clothes would erupt in flames.
Damn him
.

“This is your car.”

I’m not sure if he’s annoyed or amused.

“I happen to like my Mini Cooper. It’s perfectly suited for me.”

“And how am I supposed to get in there?”

I shrug. “I can always ask Gina for some rope and strap you to the hood.”

His eyes narrow. I click the unlock button.

“Come on. I know for a fact a guy your size can get in the car. Plus, you’re lucky I’m not giving you shit for walking around without your crutches.”

My father is a tall and solidly built man, and I’ve driven him around with no problem.

“I didn’t have that far to go, so I left the crutches at home.” He pauses in thought before glancing back at the bar. “Maybe I can get a ride from Gina.”

A frosted laugh puffs out of my mouth. “Now that I want to see.” When he eyes me with confusion, I add, “Gina rides a Harley.”

He stares at me in disbelief. “In this weather?”

“What can I tell you? She’s a badass. Plus, she lives upstairs over the bar.”

“Maybe I’ll just call Mark.”

Mark is Fletcher’s best friend.

“I heard he moved to Asheville. That’s thirty minutes away. Stop acting like a grumpy old man and just get in the car.”

I open the door and hold out a hand. He resentfully takes it. It’s almost comical how low he has to bend before he tries to fold himself into the seat. As funny as it is, I make sure he doesn’t put undue stress on his leg.

“I can’t move the seat back. Where’s the button?” he complains.

His one leg is still outside of the car, and I have to lean over and in between his legs to reach under the seat.

“Sorry, Fletch,” I say begrudgingly. “We’re all not rich like you. I could only afford the base model, so you’ll have to remember how to push the seat back.”

His hand lands on the back of my head. “I have the sweetest memories of you positioned like this.”

When I yank my head up to glare at him, I bang the crap out of it under the console.

“Dammit,” I spew, as he continues to smirk at me.

I’m stuck between wanting to hurt him and not wanting to because of my job. His hand covers mine as I feel for the goose egg surely there. His eyes soften on mine, and I stare at him a moment to long until a gust of wind reminds me it’s not summer. I pull back out of the car, losing contact with him. I focus on his leg and gently help him get his braced knee into the car. Watching him contort into a pretzel lightens my mood. I do my best to suppress a laugh before I close the car door. He says nothing, but he’s lost the smirk in favor of a one-sided curl to his lip in a snarl that says more than enough.

When I turn on the car, Shania Twain blasts through the speakers as if she were pulling out the words from my head. It was something about what doesn’t keep her warm in the middle of the night.

The drive isn’t that long, and the song ends just as I pull up to the remarkable farmhouse. It’s always been the envy of everyone in town. It’s a stately looking two-story farmhouse with a wrap-around porch and many windows to let in light.

“Nothing ever did impress you,” Fletcher murmurs.

The temperature in the car takes a nosedive, and it has nothing to do with the air outside. Therefore, watching him uncurl himself from my car isn’t as funny as it should have been.

“Thanks,” he mutters once he’s out.

The door shuts, and I feel like I should say something. In fact, when he stumbles, I jet out of the car, realizing my mistake for not helping him out in the first place. But I’d been lost in his big brown eyes, which looked so innocent when I knew differently.

“Are you okay?”

He glares at me. “I would have been better off walking home.”

When he rubs at his knee, I tuck myself under his arm and help support his weight. Together, we make it to the house. Once inside, I’m hit with a wave of memories.

“I can do it.” He tries to shrug me off.

“Where are you headed?” I ask, remaining as stubborn as he is. If he’s going upstairs, I’m going to help him get there. I can’t have the big guy fall and rupture his knee again on my watch.

“Now?” After I nod, he says, “I’d planned to eat, but that’s not in the cards anymore, is it?” When I don’t respond, he continues, “I’m going upstairs to take a hot bath and hope that my knee loosens up. If you’re not planning to play nurse and give me a sponge bath, you can go. You’ve done enough.”

“Play nurse? You either sound five and I’m past playing doctor or you’re eighty and need a nursing home.” He just glares at me. “Besides, I’m sure one of your millions of groupies you have on social media would love to play nurse with you.”

Fletcher

One thing hasn’t changed—Cassie’s ability to give me a snarky response. Instead of it pissing me off, it does the opposite. I find myself reminiscing about our days back when and how she used to make me laugh. I must have a goofy grin on my face because of her next question.

“You think that’s funny? That I’m joking?”

“Not at all. I happen to like your spunk.”

“
Spunk?
I basically tell you to get your groupies to help you out, and you like that?”

Rolling my good shoulder back, I lift it a little. “What can I say? I missed that about you.” I head up the stairs, one by one, because there’s nothing left to add.

When I’m midway up the flight, she says, “Hey, you need some ice, too.”

I don’t bother turning around. “You know where the freezer is. The baggies are in the drawer right where they always were.”

The large whirlpool tub that Mom insisted on adding upstairs is at the end of the hall. At this point, I don’t give a shit if Cass sees me naked. My luck—what luck? There is no such thing for me anymore. She can deal with it or not. I don’t really give a fuck at this point. The chances of her staying are slim either way. One thing I know for sure now is that she’s just as unattached as I am. And that thought warms me more than the water I fill the tub with. As I strip to my skivvies, my knee aches like a motherfucker. I take a seat and wait for the water level to reach the point where the jets can be turned on.