Eagle River (13 page)

Chapter Eighteen

New Year’s Eve Disaster

~ Galen ~

Galen turned off the ignition outside the Court’n House. When he stepped down out of the old truck, he observed the winter’s night sky. It was a midnight vault with pinpricks of stars sloping down to a smoothly carpeted, snow covered world. He took a deep breath and the bitingly cold, winter fresh air invigorated his senses. It was New Year’s Eve, time for fresh starts.
It feels grand to be home and out of the city, even if it’s just for two days.

With ebullience, he swung open the door to the Court’n House. He stepped into the front brassy country music, beer, sweat and cologne that always assaulted one at the door.

Ben was already bellied up to the bar.

Galen clapped him on the back. “Hey, man.”

Ben choked and then spit out the beer he’d been drinking. He coughed, choked and grinned. “You made it.”

“I wouldn’t miss New Year’s Eve at Court’n House,” Galen agreed. “Especially since this is the first year that I’m legal.”

“Let me get you a drink.” Ben waved to get Sal’s attention.

“Just a beer.”

Ben nodded with a grin. “That’s right, you’re legal now. Sounds good.”

When Sal glimpsed the two of them at the bar, he sent over a pitcher of beer. In the spirit of the holiday, Ben and Galen chatted, caught up on old times, greeted old friends and drank. As the evening progressed, the faces they saw grew a little blurred and unfocused. The bar became stiflingly warm with holiday spirit, booze, and warm bodies. Kyle eventually showed up. He was as always, ready to party. Billy Ray Cyrus was booming out a plea about his achy heart on the jukebox, and usually the song annoyed Galen, but not tonight. On this night, it sounded happy and right. Some line dancers were attempting to get something going on an edge of the dance floor.

Hot.
Galen noticed that his face felt tight and warm. His smile grew larger still, stretching the muscles of his face to their limit. Tom and Sal were off to the side of him, arguing over the Packer’s possibilities for the upcoming playoffs. Faces swam in and out of his focus. People clapped him on the back and bought drinks for him. He even managed to gag and choke his way through a couple of cigars.

“It’s Cuban,” Sal had explained with a reverent expression, as he’d rolled it between his fingers right by Galen’s ear. “Listen to it. Smell it. It tells you a story about sunny days and tropical nights, rum drinks and bikinis. It’s all there.”

Galen had done as directed, but the cigar had tasted just like any other cigar to him. In his intoxicated state, he had ended up inhaling deeply the pungent, hot cigar smoke and came up choking and gagging.

“Not quite the smoothie yet, are you, Galen?” Gene had teased while Ben pounded him on the back.

“Easy, Galen. Enjoy it. Savor it. Don’t devour it,” Kyle had advised. “You smoke a cigar with style, like a gentleman.”

So, there Galen was, leaning up against the bar, a stogie in one hand and a Jack and Coke in the other when he caught a glimpse of a fall of blond hair and a familiar tall, slender form.
Kjersten?
His entire focus was on the movement of that long, pale hair.
She was here. She had come. To see me?
Warmth flooded through his body and immediately pooled in his groin. He moved towards her, honing in on his target through the gyrating bodies, the floor swayed and undulated with his every step. Standing right beside her, her back toward him, he caught a whiff of her soft scent.
Was it lilacs?

“Kjersten.” He reached out and for the first time in more than three years, touched her, just her shoulder, but he was aware of the contact throughout his body.

Surprised, she jumped and spun to face him. She smiled her beautiful perfect smile, the same one that he’d once imagined was only for him.
That didn’t turn out to be the case.
But then he squashed that jealous thought.
Kjersten is here now. With me. Not with Cam.

“Hi, Galen. Happy New Year.” She bit her lip nervously.
She looks amazing.
His eyes went to her lips which were overly full and had felt so good back when they slid up and down on his cock. “Galen?” She was staring at him strangely. “You okay?”

“You’re beautiful.” He reached out and drew her into his arms. A stunned Kjersten stiffly allowed herself to be held. Galen reveled in the feel of her body against him. Tall, slender, and soft, she felt so right, the way that she always had. He nuzzled his lips into the silky, lilac-scented softness of her hair.
God, she is even better than the dreams.
“I’ve missed you.”

Her body eased from rigid and resistant to his embrace, to hesitantly soft and pliant against him. “Galen,” she whispered his name in a throaty voice.

He leaned back and reached a hand out to cup the warm, softness of her cheek. “Kjersten.” He began to gently sway against her. “The music.” He leaned back into her and lost himself in the feel of her form against his.

“Let’s at least get on the dance floor,” she whispered back. “Everyone’s watching. Do you think that you can handle a two-step? Or are you going to fall down as we try to get to the dance floor?”

“I can make it.” He held tightly onto her hand, pulled along by the slightly hazy vision of swaying pale hair and an effervescent smile that she turned on him when she swung around to protest his slowness.
She seems happy to see me.
Once there, she took him by both hands and drew him onto the dance floor. There, she stopped and released him, and put her arms around him in the posture of country dancers.

Unsatisfied with the distance between them, he pulled her completely up against him, muffling her protests. He rested his hands in the small of her back, just above where her ass began to round out. Once again, she relaxed in his arms. He slid his fingertips down and stroked and kneaded the firm curves, as the sides of his arms brushed against the full breasts that were pressed against his chest.

He felt himself grow harder still. Distantly, he noticed other couples attempting to country dance around them, but he just shut them out and swayed to his own rhythm. He burrowed his lips through her hair and into the warm groove at the side of her neck. There, he tasted her with his tongue. She tasted salty, sweet, hot. He felt as much as heard her soft moan. She tilted her head further to the side, accommodating his gentle nuzzling. He felt her nipples tighten against his chest.
Kjersten wasn’t wearing a bra.
She felt so good against him, so right.

The song ended and though she drew back, as if to step away, he held her tightly, refusing to let go, oblivious to everyone around him.

Then, a romantic waltz melody began to play and John Michael Montgomery was singing about Texas ladies and dreaming. His warm, velvety tones and the smooth magic of the waltz intoxicated Galen and, it seemed, Kjersten as well. Now, he loosened his grip on her, moved back into a correct waltzing stance, and winked at her while she smiled radiantly up at him. Galen closed his eyes and his feet began to move effortlessly into the steps that they’d learned together in his mother’s kitchen a lifetime ago.

Around and around they turned. Despite all of the alcohol he’d consumed, Galen’s muscle memory ensured that the two of them moved lithely and skillfully together, long legs lean, elegant forms in smooth motion. They had learned to dance together, practicing endlessly before the exacting eye of Jessica Odgers in the weeks before Kjersten’s Junior Prom.

Galen’s every nerve ending tingled, hot and alive. This was far too hot, too pulsing to be nostalgia. His strides grew shorter. Soon, he no longer bothered with footwork. His movement returned to a body-on-body sort of swaying.

The song slowed and then came to an end. Too lost in the moment, Galen began to slide his hands up and down her sides, caressing her.

Kjersten pulled back. “Galen, people are staring.”

“Let ‘em stare.”

“I don’t think.” She detached her body from his and the feeling of separation was almost physically painful for Galen.

“Let’s get out of here.”

“What?”

“Come on, baby,” he protested as he followed her.

“Baby?” She pivoted and practically spat the word at him. Her face transformed, losing the soft, aroused look it had worn before. She stared at him incredulously. “Who are you talking to? I’m not your baby. I’ve never been your baby. Who do you call ‘baby?’ I’m Kjersten, remember? Not some football bunny! You’re just drunk!” She pushed him with both hands on his chest and stormed off.

“Whas wrong?” he slurred the words. Then, shook his head, attempting to clear it.
Why was she being so difficult? What’s her problem?
He started to follow her, but she was moving too fast, and the floor had kept shifting under his feel in the most annoying way

She paused to speak with a girlfriend of hers
.

What was that girl’s name? Amanda? No, Margo.
They both turned to glare at him. Still, he started to follow after her.

Then, a hand clapped down on his shoulder. “Galen, how about a game of pool?” Coach’s face swam into view. Coach deliberately steered him away from the two women. “Better yet, why don’t you sit down and take a load off.”

“But Kjersten... I need to talk to her. Need to.”

“You’re drunk, Galen, no question about it. You are officially bullet proof,” Tom evaluated as he propelled the younger man over to a bar stool. “You are way too far gone to be dealing with knots as complicated as that one. Let it go for tonight. Don’t do anything stupid. You two got everyone talking with that dance you just had. Don’t stoke the flames.” He pushed Galen down on a bar stool. “You got the rumor mill turning. You need to add to it by having her slap you?”

“Why would she slap me?”

Tom rolled his eyes expressively. “You were getting a little frisky for being out on a dance floor in Eagle River.” He chuckled. “There’s too much history between you two. You’re not going to work through all that during one dance.”

“We were getting along fine.” Galen pushed Tom’s hand away.

“That’s why Kjersten walked away from you,” Tom commented dryly. “For tonight, let it go. You’re in no condition to try to fix this. Trust me.”

Still, he stared longingly over at Kjersten.
What did I say or do wrong? How did I mess things up again?

“Galen.” Tom stood right in front of him, trying to get his attention. “There was something I wanted to say to you tonight, something I wanted to tell you. This is probably not the right time, but I’m not sure that there ever really would be a ‘right’ time. There hasn’t been in twenty-one years.” Tom eyed him anxiously. “Maybe its better that you’re a little worse for the wear, maybe that will make this easier to swallow.”

Even through the swirling fog that clogged his thoughts, Galen recognized that Tom was uncharacteristically unsure of himself. He was searching for words, obviously doubtful of what he was trying to say, or how he was trying to say it.

“It’s about your mother. Your mother, you see her and me... well...”

“What?” Anything about his Mom caught Galen’s attention. “What about Mom?”

“Your mom was special, and she and I,” Tom paused.

Galen glimpsed Kjersten heading towards the bar door.

“Focus, Galen. I need you to pay attention.”

But Galen clearly wasn’t. Tom shook his head. He scrutinized Galen for a moment and then stood up from his bar stool and tossed a couple of bucks on the bar. “Come on, Galen. Get Ben and let’s get out of here. I’m going to drive you home. You need to sleep this one off.”

Hey, Kyle,” Tom called Galen’s brother, who was busy putting the moves on a rather weathered-looking blond at the other end of the bar. “Can you give me a hand with your brother here?”

Kyle waved back. “Yeah, give me a minute.”

“But it’s not New Year’s yet,” Galen muttered. “Happy New Year,” he shouted. “Where’s Kjersten? Where did she go? I need to talk to her.” He pivoted around, searching for her.

“No, we’re getting you home now.”

“No,” Galen muttered. “You don’t understand. I have to talk to Kjersten. I want her. You don’t understand.”

“That’s enough, Galen. The door’s this way.”

“But I want her!”

Tom grabbed him by the arm and turned him around. “Listen, she’s gone. Left. If you ever want to have a chance with her again, let me take you home now. You can’t do anything about it tonight.”

The words seemed to penetrate Galen’s alcohol fogged brain. “She’s gone.”

“Galen,” Ben said as he patted his buddy on the back. “Kjersten already left.”

“Gone,” Galen echoed the word, then slowly followed Tom and Ben out through the pub door.

* * * *

In the middle of the night, Galen awoke to a foul mouth and the feeling that a steel band was tightening inexorably around his temples. Carefully, he opened his eyes to assess the situation. He recognized that he was lying on the living room couch at his childhood home and that he was fully clothed. Holding his head as he slowly sat up, he was very aware that he felt like he’d been run over by a truck.
It’s still dark outside. What time is it?
The stench of cigar smoke and booze clung to his hair and clothing tweaked his stomach. Taking a deep breath, he braced himself for the inescapable pain of getting to his feet. Awkwardly, painfully, he drew his arms down and pushed himself groaningly up. His pulse throbbed in his ears.