Back to You(77)

“Your girl,” Dean said. “The one you’ve been after.”
Michael looked up, his expression turning serious. “I’m not after her,” he said. “She’s a good friend of mine.”
Dean looked at him for a second before he smirked. “Okay,” he said, turning his attention to the other side of the street. He brought his cup to his mouth, but Michael could still see him smiling.
He looked at Dean for another second before he dropped his eyes, rolling his cup in between his palms, feeling the heat of the liquid and the icy chill of the air alternating on his skin.
“Can I ask you something?” he finally said.
Dean looked back at him. “What’s up?”
“You and Melinda. How’s that going?”
Only a few months ago, they had been in the middle of an ugly custody battle over their daughter. But recently, Michael knew they’d been trying to work on their relationship.
Dean inhaled deeply. “We got a lot of shit to work out. But we’re trying. We’re getting there.”
Michael nodded, and for a minute, the only sound was the murmuring conversations of the guys around them mixing with the cars passing by. “How?” he finally said.
“What do you mean?”
He inhaled slowly. “I mean…how do you fix@u"> shoulder something you really f*cked up?”
Dean looked at him, and after a second he nodded in understanding.
“Well,” he said, “we have a kid involved. So when we put her needs in front of our own, that helps.”
“Yeah,” Michael agreed, running his fingers over the lid of his cup.
“But honestly? What women need?” Dean paused to take a sip of his coffee. “Actions. Not words. Sorry doesn’t mean shit, begging doesn’t mean shit, and promises don’t mean shit.”
Michael nodded and looked down. “I’m just…I’m at a loss, man. I just don’t know…” He sighed, shaking his head.
Dean leaned over. “You gotta prove to her that you’re never gonna do whatever messed with her in the first place ever again. You gotta show her there’s no reason to be afraid of giving you another chance. And that’s work, my man. That’s work.” He pushed off the lamppost and started to walk away, but turned at the last second. “But from what I just saw, I think she’d be willing to hear you out.”
Dean clapped him on the back before he turned and walked back toward their workstation.
Michael watched him walk away for a moment before he turned and sat on a nearby bench, resting his elbows on his knees as he held his hot chocolate in front of him.
Slowly, he bowed his head.
Something had changed. Somehow, for some reason, something had changed between them over the past few weeks. Lauren seemed so much more open to him. More relaxed. More herself. Months ago, that had been all he really wanted—to have her drop that aloof charade, for her to let her guard down and just be herself with him again.
But now that he seemed to have that, he wanted more.
The taste of winning back her friendship had given him an appetite for something much bigger. And when she looked at him the way she just did in the car, there was a piece of him that believed maybe, just maybe, he could have it. That there was a chance he could fix this.
That he could have everything he wanted.
Michael dropped his head back, taking a deep breath as he blinked up at the sky.
He’d done everything except the one thing he knew he had to do.
He needed to talk to her about what happened.
And maybe if she knew the reason behind his actions all those years ago, she’d understand.
Michael sighed as he looked down at his drink, swirling it a few times before he took another sip.
He was going to talk to her. Soon. Because even if it didn’t work, even if knowing the truth didn’t change a single thing between them, she deserved to finally understand what had happened.
It was time for him to stop running.

May 2003
Del sat in the passenger seat of Lauren’s car, staring out the window at the passing scenery.
“I’m not an idiot, you know.”
Lauren looked at him, her expression a mixture of confusion and amusement. “Well, sometimes I’d have to disagree,” she said with the hint of a laugh. “But what are you talking about?” { display: block; text-indent: 5%; font-size: 0.88rem; margin-top: dyasm.
“I know what this is about.”
Out of the corner of his eye, he could see her looking at him, and then she turned her eyes back to the road, saying nothing.
He knew he was being an *; she was just looking out for him. But he couldn’t help it.
It was the anniversary of the night Aaron died. Lauren knew that. And what Del wanted to be doing right now—what he’d done every year on this night since he was thirteen—was to drink until he passed out. Lauren knew that too.