Redemption(6)
“Hey, man.” A mammoth of a man slapped Dan on the arm. I’m not sure how anyone could dwarf Dan in size, but this guy did. And holy hell, he was hot—smoldering.
“Holy shit, Nate. How’ve you been?” Clearly, they knew each other. Dan glanced at the date on Nate’s arm but focused his attention on his old friend.
“I’m doing better. It’s been a tough couple of years, but things are starting to look up.”
“Sorry to hear about Bastian. I know you two were tight.”
The despair that crossed Nate’s face was gut-wrenching, and I didn’t have a clue who Bastian was.
“Oh hey, I’m being rude. Nate, this is Lissa.”
“Nice to meet you. This is my better half, Morgan.”
Dan gave Morgan an awkward look before wiping his face clear of any emotion and extending his hand in greeting. “Glad to see you’re back in the saddle.”
“You, too. We’re going to head out of here, but you guys have a good night. Dan, it was great to see you again. Give me a call sometime. Let’s get together. It’s been too long.”
“Nice to meet you both.” Morgan left us with an endearing grin.
Before I could ask who either of them were, the hostess returned to seat us. Dan didn’t give her an opportunity to leave before placing our order. I wasn’t accustomed to a man picking my drink and my meal for me—but I could get used to this.
“Trust me, you have to have the white pizza. And there’s not a brew in the house you can go wrong with.”
I nodded before making a feeble attempt at small talk. “How do you know Nate?”
“Brett and I went to high school with him and Bastian. We were close to Nate, played sports together, but Bastian was an artist. Nate kind of protected him. They were best friends, so by default, we all hung out.”
“Were? As in past tense?”
He ran his hand through his hair, his eyelids heavy, sadness consumed the air around us.
“Bastian was married to Sylvie Thames.”
If I’d had anything to drink, I would have spit it all over him. My eyes had to be round as saucers. “The musician?”
“Yeah.” He laughed at my enthusiasm. “It was a fairytale romance like Brett and Annie. Sickeningly sweet kind of thing. Bastian was an artist. A painter. When Sylvie died, emotionally, he did too.”
“That’s awful. I remember reading about how fast everything happened. Like she was diagnosed one day and gone the next.”
“Bastian never recovered.”
Wide-eyed, I stared at Dan waiting for whatever was to come next because I was sure the story didn’t end there.
“I can’t make up the rest.” The waitress interrupted him to deliver our pints.
I closed my eyes tasting the decadence of the amber ale. He allowed me to savor the first sip before he resumed his story. When I reopened my eyes, the expression on his face made me tingly all over.
“Sorry, I didn’t mean to interrupt you with that. Keep going.”
“About five years after Sylvie died, Bastian met a woman who looked just like his deceased wife. He pursued her, but fate had different plans. Tonight’s the first time I’ve seen Nate since everything happened with Bastian. He kind of fell off the face of the earth.”
He took a long swig of his beer. He filled me in on the details of Bastian and Nate’s stories. And I just stared at him in disbelief.
“So anyway, it’s good to see him out and about, although I was surprised to see him with Morgan.”
I was saved from the topic at hand when the waitress ushered the pizza to our table at the perfect time. Dan dished up a slice for each of us, and it didn’t disappoint. He regaled me with stories of his life in the frat house with Brett, and how they’d both ended up at the same distribution center where they worked in logistics. It was clear he admired his best friend and his wife. Every word out of his mouth endeared me to him even more. There was nothing about him that wasn’t genuine, but I wondered how long it would take him to see through me.
3
Chapter Three
Past
I signed the release papers with instructions to get plenty of fluids and rest. I’d left Matt a message that the hospital would release me at lunch but hadn’t heard back from him—not that I was surprised. He and my parents had only come by the hospital once and not together. I thought it had been to make sure I hadn’t slit my wrists, but the reality was, it appeared they’d hoped I had. None of the three stayed long. They came in to tell me how grief-stricken they were, as if I wasn’t myself, and left as quickly as they’d come. My mother and father couldn’t bear to look me in the eye, but Matt had. Matt had driven nails painfully into my psyche as he spewed hate. I accepted each word knowing what I’d hear from people who never loved me would be far worse. Everything that happened was my fault. I expected nothing less. There was nothing anyone could say I hadn’t already said to myself. No words could be more demeaning than those echoing in my head whether I was asleep or awake. It had been an accident, but the three most important people in my life had already made it clear—the life I’d cost them was far more precious than the one that remained.