ON AIR (14 page)

18

“
D
ane, I can’t just expose some woman’s identity to appease your curiosity,” Emmet said over the phone. “It’s something imperative to her job—to stay anonymous. I can’t mess with that in good conscience.”

I’d already told him the favor wasn’t exactly for me, but I chose not to correct him that time. Maybe it would only weaken my case. “Well…what if there was some kind of necessary reason…”

“You’re grasping at straws.”

At twenty-nine years old, I still didn’t know what that expression meant. “Come on, Emmet. The woman single-handedly turned my sister’s life around. I just want to thank her.”

“Then thank her. Send her an email. Send her a card. Send her flowers. But back off of her business, Dane. You could ruin her career.”

I pretty much tuned him out after “flowers” but refocused when I realized he was still talking.

“…with the other favor, but not this one. Yeah, I’ll check on Natalie’s brother.”

I nodded my head. “Thanks, I appreciate it.”

“Don’t mention it. But don’t you dare stick your nose in it, kid. Stay away from that fucker Danzig, you understand? Your dad would come back and haunt me for that.”

“Yes, sir.” I replied without thinking, like I was speaking to my father.

“All right, well, I’ll let you know if I got anything,” Emmet added. “I’ll see you at your birthday barbecue in a few weeks, okay?”

It took me exactly two seconds to realize he’d blabbed a secret I obviously didn’t know about yet, and just the irony of it made me smile. “Sure thing. See you there,
Detective
.”

He didn’t catch my sarcasm before we hung up.

I immediately tapped the radio station app on my phone. Yes, I had it on my screen. So what? Made it easier to listen to her segment instead of clicking through multiple pages each time. I browsed for a bit, trying to find a physical address I could send something to. I considered emailing her again, and upon thinking about
that
, I realized I’d never replied to her last message to me.

I scrolled through my phone to find it, and when I did, thought of a reply as I downed some ibuprofen for my headache. Even after coming home early the day before and taking today off, I still felt like shit. My head didn’t want to be doing all this thinking.

But if I wasn’t up-to-par for work, I figured I could dabble in someone else’s life for a bit. I chose not to respond to her email, but I did do a flower order online. I had it sent to the radio station, and even though I was guaranteed it’d be delivered today, I knew it didn’t mean she’d get it today. Who knew what her hours were, or if she was even in the building on a daily basis, but I hoped she’d eventually get them.

I typed in a message on the online order form to go with it:
Thanks for all you do to give happy experiences to others
. Lame, I know.

And I e-signed Madden’s name.

I approved and completed the transaction before I could change my mind. Even if nothing came of it for Madden, at least she had a bouquet of pretty flowers to look at.

The second I dropped onto my couch to vegetate for a few hours, a knock sounded at my door. One part of me actually hoped it was Peter because I felt like shit and wanted to tangle with him for a bit.

“Oh, hey, Nat,” I said as I saw her pretty face on my porch. I motioned her in.

“Feeling better?” She gave me a hug and a kiss on the cheek. Maybe she thought I was contagious.

I shrugged as I shut the door behind us. “Nah, not really. This shit will last about five days until my body gets the message.”

“What message?”

“I don’t know, to adjust to the season changing.”

She slowly nodded but didn’t reply. She wasn’t her same, charming self right now and it was pretty obvious.

“How are you?” I asked. We both sat on the couch and she angled toward me with a leg tucked under her.

“Meh, fine I guess. Busy at work—took on a couple extra projects—and still helping Chloe during morning rush.”

“Thanks for that. I appreciate it.”

She arched an eyebrow at me. “I’m not doing it for you. I’m doing it for Chloe.”

I wasn’t sure of her tone, and this was the kind of shit I fucking hated when it came to women. It was like I was supposed to magically know what she needed or what I should say. They always acted like they were the ones who were right one hundred percent of the time. It was like men had to constantly make up for
every
fucking thing we did, even when we moved or breathed.

I chose to ignore her comment. “How was the game last night?”

She eyed me for a few seconds before answering. “Fine. Fun. It was fun. Glad Davey came. We were an hour late, but better than not at all.” She paused for a moment. “I got a weird vibe when I was at the auto shop he works at, Dane.”

I studied her for a moment to see if I could gain further insight to what she meant. But she was waiting for me to respond. “Like what kind of vibe?”

Shrugging, she answered, “I don’t know. I stopped by after work—like a quarter to seven—and he seemed really irritated. Said, ‘Why are you here? I told you I’d meet you at your place.’ I knew he’d told me that, I’m not even sure why I stopped by, but I told him something lame like I couldn’t remember what we’d decided and it was easier to stop by instead of text and drive. But he was really annoyed. I’m worried.”

“Maybe you just caught him on a bad day. Or he was trying to finish things up to be on time and you interrupted his flow.”

“I thought of that, too. But he was seriously sitting in the break room when I showed up. I mean I couldn’t see the break room from the lobby, but he came from around the corner where I know it’s at.”

I didn’t know what to think, and since I hadn’t been there or felt what she felt, I was a bit torn as to what to reply. “Not sure what to say. Did you ask him about it? Maybe he was in a dispute with someone in the break room. Maybe his boss was back there?”

She shrugged. “I didn’t see his boss, so… Maybe. I just know I got a really strange feeling. I didn’t like it. And I kept it light with Davey that night at the game. I think he had fun, but you know, he’s a bit reserved sometimes.”

Yeah, he was. Sometimes that silence in a person is a bit intimidating, and upon thinking about that, I realized that’s what it was about David that sometimes bothered me. Especially when it came to him working in my building. I guess I assumed he hated it there, or he didn’t like me, or he didn’t like the job. He was never vocal about much, so I assumed the worst.

“You know one major thing that breaks couples up?” Nat said, totally out of the blue.

I eyed her warily. I would have answered cheating or some sort of dishonesty, but something told me it wasn’t an obvious answer.

“Expectations,” she answered for herself. “
Expectations
. Expecting someone to behave a certain way, to respond a certain way, or expecting them to do certain things. When you’re always
expecting
of someone, you’re easily disappointed. You’re setting yourself up for frustration, and that frustration turns into anger, and that anger causes you to forget all of the good things. The disappointment eventually pulls on the relationship so much…it unravels. You give up because you let expectations take over instead of learning to be
appreciative
. If people could just appreciate what their significant other does for them instead of focusing on what they’re
not
doing, the relationship would improve tremendously. They say a strong relationship is built on trust? Well I say it also has to be built on genuine gratitude and respect.”

I had no words. It wasn’t because she’d said something I agreed with or disagreed with, but it was because I was thinking about my parents for a second. One of the conversations I’d had with my dad was something similar to what Nat was saying. I was pretty pissed with my mom and what she did, and I never did understand how my dad was so forgiving of her. But my dad had said, “
When a woman comes to you more than once about a problem, it’s because she’s truly bothered by it. Never ignore it. Show her how much you love her by making her concerns a priority. I wish I’d done that a long time ago. Don’t make my same mistake
.”

“Don’t make assumptions about people?” I asked for clarification. I thought back to the last week with Natalie. Or…kind of the last week
without
her. In a way I’d been trying to avoid her. Mainly because I refused to be changed by a woman, but mostly because I truly needed my space.

I mean…I think.

She was eyeing me pretty studiously. I had no idea if I’d answered wrong or not.

“Don’t take it there, Dane, I give you your space,” she stated defensively, like I’d just been arguing she hadn’t. “I do things for you because I want to, not because I feel you expect me to or that it’s expected of me based on society’s standards.”

She paused, so I nodded my head to assure I was listening.

With a heavy sigh, she tossed her hands into the air. “You act like I’m trying to mold you and I’m tired of it. So I’m just going to get all of this out in the open, okay? I like cooking for you, I like being around you, and I just like doing things for you in general. I don’t expect anything in return. I don’t expect you to change overnight and be open to a domesticated relationship with me with all the changes it entails. Sometimes I get the impression you like it, though. Then other times you act like I’m bothering you. Real talk. Can we just lay this out? What do you prefer and what I prefer?”

I could say I wasn’t too pleased with the invitation for discussing feelings and such, but maybe she had a point. We’d agreed to give a relationship a chance, but things still felt way too awkward. I felt like she was pushing without trying to push, but maybe I was reading too far into things.

“I love your cooking, Natalie. And I love being around you too. I’m not, however, comfortable with you just showing up whenever you feel like it, and I’m sorry if that’s me being a prick since you only do it to feed me, but you know I’m kind of a loner. And I’m just
used
to quiet when I come home, you know? I’m used to living on my own and I’ve never felt like I
needed
anything else.”

“Or any
one
,” she added quietly.

Maybe that was it. Possibly I’d agreed to a relationship with Natalie because she’d pushed it on me, and now here we were doing what I pretty much knew we’d be doing sooner or later.

“I didn’t want anything to change,” I argued. “You knew who you were getting when—”

“That’s such bullshit,” she scoffed, waving me off. She stood. “‘You knew who you were getting,’” she mimicked. “You know how tired that is as an excuse?”

I felt my defenses react immediately. “Oh, so you really are one of those women who feel they can manipulate a man into whoever she wants him to be?”

She frowned at me. “No, Dane, that is not what I’m like. I’ve known you for five years and I know what kind of person you are. It’s just used as an excuse by men who don’t want to step up. It’s used as an easy way out of actually doing any work in a relationship. It’s a pathetic form of selfishness.”

“So I’m selfish,” I stated. Then I shrugged. “So be it. And if you know me so well, you should have predicted it.”

“Now you’re being childish.”

“You know what? I don’t really care what you call me. I’m selfish because I’m cautious? Fine. So why don’t we pick apart your character, huh? I think you’re manipulative. What do you have to counter that with?”

Her pause perplexed me. It totally glitched our argument. You’re not supposed to pause. It messes up the flow of the fight.

“I’m sorry you think I’m manipulative,” she answered softly. “I brought all of this up because I felt your annoyance with me. Bothering you is the last thing I want to do. But I kind of felt like you were reading me all wrong, and I’m right. I just wanted to clear the air. I’m not trying to get anything out of you, but I guess with your reaction to what I said, maybe you’re right. I apologize if I made you feel cornered, but that wasn’t my intention. I just like doing things for you.”

Her meekness humbled me a bit, but I still felt defensive. “But you admit that you were disappointed that I didn’t react in the way you wanted me to? Maybe you
expected
a little too much too soon?” Yeah, that was an asshole move. But she was the one who had brought all of it up. I did agree with her, though. Appreciate, don’t expect. It was a solid point.

“Yes, you’re right,” she nodded. “I do enjoy doing things for you, but I did expect something more in return—like appreciation. I guess I’m being a hypocrite with my preaching.” She took a breath as she headed for the door. “I guess you answered my question. We’re not compatible as a couple. Can we just go back to being friends?”

I honestly viewed this as a moment where I was supposed to see the error of my ways and plead for her to come back to me. But I wasn’t going to do it. At the first sign of turbulence, she wants to bail?

“So let’s just go fuck and then you can be on your way?” I asked, motioning to the bedroom.