“It’s Amanda,” I confess.
Dane nods. “The chick you were with at the climb?”
“She’s the one.”
“The one?” Dane echoes, noting the specific language I chose there. “Is it that serious?”
Memories from the last couple of months hit me in sardonic waves, each one succeeding more than the last in taking me under.
Her groggy smile as I put her under after the accident.
Her victory dance after climbing the wall.
Her nervousness at the stair climb.
Her hitched breath when my hand was on her thigh on Halloween.
The way she tried to hide from me after her date.
The way she realized she never could.
The river.
The bikes.
Her shower.
Her bed.
Over and over, one after another, they crash into me, and all I can do is swallow down the knot they leave in my throat.
“She is,” I whisper. Then, I lift my brows. “Or rather, she would be—if things were different."
“What things?”
“The fact that her son is one of my best friends, for starters.”
Dane blanches. "Wait... Amanda is David's mom?"
David and Dane met one weekend in college when David came to visit me. Dane is also about the only person I’ve opened up to about David’s family situation, and specifically how it affected me.
I take another sip of my drink on a nod. “Indeed, she is.”
Dane is silent for a moment, then says, “Man, just talk to him. David will understand.”
“That might have been an option. Before.”
“Before?”
“Before he walked in on me in his mom's bed.”
Beck and Dane both let out an oof, exchanging glances without either of them having a comforting word to offer after that.
What is there to say?
“Do you want a shot?” Dane finally says. When I glare at him, he holds up a placating palm. “Just saying, now would be the time to take one. You can’t even drown your sorrows the old-fashioned way.”
“I’m capable of coping without alcohol. Fuck you very much.”
“Damn, you really are touchy.”
I can’t argue that, nor can I sell the fact that I can cope at all. But lucky for me, the front door of Shipwrecked bangs open then, and Larsen blows through it like a damn hurricane, her hair disheveled, eyes wide.
I nudge Dane off the barstool. “You’re excused from my pity party. Go take care of your girl.”
“Not mine—”
I cut him off. “Don't be naïve. Fucking communicate, man. Trust me—letting pride or fear keep you from a girl that incredible will be your biggest regret.”
Dane looks like he doesn’t want to leave me after a depressing comment like that, like he’s just realized his friend needs him. But Beck is shoving him off, too.
“Go,” he echoes. "Before I change my mind and grill you more.”
Without further delay, Dane leaves us for Larsen, and then Beck’s glare is heavy on me.
I ignore it, taking another long pull of my soda before I smack a hand on the bar. “Well, now that that’s over.”
“Sit,” Beck says, grabbing my arm before I can get my ass more than a few inches off the stool.
I sigh, sagging back down.
“Why didn’t you tell me about this?”
“I figured you had enough going on.”
“Don’t deflect. And don’t keep your shit from me just because you think I can’t handle it on top of my own. We’re friends, Greg. I’m here for you when you need me. Period.”
I nod, tail between my legs. “You’re right. I’ve just… I’ve never been good with opening up, especially with stuff like this.”
“Stuff meaning relationship stuff? Because that I believe, since I don’t think I’ve ever seen you in one.”
I scratch the back of my neck with a shrug.
“Have you tried talking to your friend since this all happened?”
“Many times.”
“And?”
I level a glare at him. “What do you think? No response. I’m sure he’s blocked my number by now.”
“Was it that bad?”
“Remember how I said I got hit in the eye with a hockey puck?” I ask, pointing to the fading bruises on my face.
Beck blanches. “He was the hockey puck.”
“Indeed,” I confirm, hand falling onto my lap.
“So, he was pissed. I mean, we talked about this at the café with Lars — what guy wouldn’t be upset that his friend and his mom were hooking up?”
“We weren’t hooking up,” I defend, chest puffing at the insinuation that that’s all it was.
Beck chuckles, holding up his hands. “I just mean that he walked in at a very precarious time,” he says. “I’m sure he wasn’t thinking straight. In that moment, there was no reasoning with him. But maybe now…”
“I’ve tried.”
“Try harder.”
I grit my teeth, spinning to face him. “What am I supposed to do, Beck? He won’t talk to me. Neither will she. David will probably kill me if he ever does see me again, and Amanda has made it clear that I don’t have to worry about what will happen the next time she sees me, because it’s never going to happen.”
My chest heaves with that last part, heart splitting in two with the realization. And when my shoulders sag, my gaze falling to my half-empty glass on the bar, Beck sighs, clapping his hand on my shoulder.
“Look, man. You know I’ve had my fair share of shit that no one could get me to see out of — no one until Carly, anyway.”
I nod, thinking of his PTSD and how much of a hold it’s had on him ever since I’ve known the guy.
“I’m not going to tell you it’ll be easy. I’m also not going to assure you that it will all work out,” he adds. “All I’m saying is that if she means this much to you, and obviously she does, then you might as well leave all your cards on the table. If you think you’ve already lost them both anyway…” He shrugs. “What more do you have to lose?”
I frown, digesting his words as he signals to Harry to bring our tab over. He pays for both of us with me sitting there like the mopey sonofabitch I am, and then he stands.
“From what you’ve told me, this guy is like a brother to you. My bet is that he’s hurting more than anything. Give him a little more time to cool down, and then try again.”
“And if the result is the same?”
Beck shrugs. “Then you dust yourself off and you move forward.”
“Without her,” I finish for him, saying the words I know he doesn’t want to.
“If you must, yes. That’s all we can do, man. We just keep living — pain and all.”
I shake my head. “I don’t know if I can live without her,” I confess. “Not now that I know what it’s like to have a life with her in it.”
Beck smirks, grabbing his coat and shrugging it on. “All the more reason to keep fighting, my friend.”
He leaves me with that, nodding to Dane and Larsen on his way out the door.
And I try not to cling too tightly to the fire of hope his words have lit inside me.