Only Him
Page 37
Back at my hotel, I threw all my shit in my suitcase and crashed on the bed, slamming my eyes shut and praying sleep would come quickly.
It didn’t, of course.
All I could do was picture the look on Maren’s face when I’d told her I didn’t love her. Hear her sobbing. She’d been devastated, as I knew she would be. Goddammit, it wasn’t supposed to happen!
But I wanted her to be happy, and the only way that could happen was without me in her life. She’d realize that in time. She was smart—smart enough to put everything together about what was going on with me. Groaning, I rolled onto my back and stared at the ceiling. It was exactly as I’d suspected—the tears and sadness, the pity and fear. Why the hell would she want any of that in her life?
I loved her too much to put her through it. Better to disappoint her in the short term than sentence her for life. But fuck—fuck—it hurt me, too.
I grabbed the pillow from behind my head and put it over my face. It smelled like lavender.
My throat closed. My chest tightened. My heart ached at the thought that I’d never kiss her goodnight or sleep next to her or wake up with her again—and someone else would.
But that was the price I had to pay.
I landed in Boston around one o’clock the following afternoon. I hadn’t slept well, the flight had been bumpy, and my stomach was upset, probably because of the Depakote combined with the lack of food. To say I was grumpy was an understatement.
I barked at someone in baggage claim for standing too close to me, I was a dick to the guy at the rental car agency when the SUV I wanted wasn’t available, and I ignored Finn’s texts asking if I was on my way. I’d never even told him which flight I was on or when it would arrive.
Instead, I put his address into my GPS and drove to his house, cursing and grumbling the entire way that I should have stayed in a hotel. How the fuck was I going to even breathe with four people in my face all the time?
Bree answered my knock on the front door, and her face lit up when she saw me. “Hey, Dallas!”
“Hey.”
She held the door open for me, and as soon as I was inside, she let go and threw her arms around me. “It’s so good to see you.”
The hug felt good, and I found my temperamental mood easing up a bit. “You too.”
She released me and stepped back, eyeing me at arm’s length. “You look good.”
“So do you.” My brother’s wife was pretty and petite, with shoulder-length dark hair that was pulled off her face and a generous smile. It was a warm day, and she was dressed in cut-off shorts and a tank top smudged with dirt as if she’d been working outside.
“Oh Lord, I’m a mess. I’ve been in the garden already this morning. But come on in. Finn’s at work—I don’t think he knew exactly when you were arriving—but the kids are running around here somewhere. Oly! Lane!” she called out. “Uncle Dallas is here.”
A second later, they came barreling toward me, Oly flying down the stairs in a bathing suit and Lane zooming in from the direction of the kitchen. “Yay!” one of them cried as both of them wrapped around my legs like monkeys. “You’re here!”
“I’m here.” The sight of them lifted my spirits even more. “And I have presents for you somewhere in my bag.”
The kids cheered while Bree parked her hands on her hips. “You send them too much stuff already. They’re still eating all the Easter candy you shipped here.”
“What are uncles for?” I ruffled Lane’s hair and tweaked Olympia’s ear.
“Want to go swimming with me?” she asked. “We have a pool now.”
“I know, I heard about it. I’d love to. Got a diving board?”
My niece nodded happily. “I can dive off it.”
“I’ll teach you how to do a backflip,” I told her.
“Dallas Shepherd, don’t you dare.” My sister-in-law swatted at my shoulder.
I smiled. “Let me take my bags upstairs and I’ll find my suit, okay, Oly?”
“Okay.”
“Are you hungry?” Bree asked. “I have some pasta salad and some deviled eggs.”
“That sounds good. I haven’t eaten yet today.” My stomach was feeling a little better, and food actually sounded good.
“I’ll fix you a plate. You can take your things upstairs. You remember where the guest room is?”
I nodded. “Thanks.”
Upstairs in the guest room, I dug my swimsuit and the kids’ gifts out of my bag. The Tigers merchandise reminded me of being at the game with Maren, and a pit opened inside me. How was she today? I’d had no calls or messages from her, which surprised me. Was she too hurt and angry? Or was she trying to forget me already?
It doesn’t matter. A clean break, remember?
I did my best to put her out of my mind and spent the afternoon with Bree and the kids, who loved their Tigers gear and had fun showing off their swimming and diving skills. I dazzled them all (plus some other neighborhood urchins) with my backflip and thunderous cannonball off the diving board, participated in underwater tea parties, diving for pennies, and about a million games of Marco Polo.
For dinner, I grilled cheeseburgers and hot dogs, and Bree brought out corn on the cob and broccoli salad, which the kids complained about but ate after their mother told them there would be no ice cream if they didn’t.
Finn arrived home while we were eating on the patio, kissed his wife hello, ruffled each of the kids’ wet heads, and offered me his hand. I thought for sure he’d make a comment about my ignoring his texts or failing to let them know when I would arrive, but he didn’t. “Glad you made it,” he said.
“Thanks.”
He changed clothes and joined us at the table, and I found myself looking at him differently as I watched him interact with his family. I wasn’t sure why. Was it because I knew he was seeing a therapist? Or because I kept waiting for him to harangue me about the surgery and he wasn’t? Was he different somehow, maybe a little less intense and more relaxed? Was it because I knew he was interested in mending our relationship, maybe hearing me out before he dismissed my side of things as irrational or foolish or reckless?
Whatever it was, it helped to put me at ease. I didn’t feel as on guard or defensive as I usually did around him. I liked watching him with his wife and kids, and for the first time, I envied what he had. Home. Family. Security. Belonging. I felt a part of it too, which was nice, but it wasn’t mine. It never would be.
Later, after the ice cream had been eaten and the dishes were cleared and the kids had been dragged off to the bathtub by Bree, Finn asked if I wanted to have a beer with him out by the pool.
I hesitated. “The meds.”
“No pressure, but I think one beer is okay.”
“Okay, then. I’ll have one with you.” I was feeling better than I had this morning, at least physically.
Finn brought out two uncapped bottles and handed one to me, and we stretched out in two adjacent deck chairs. The sky was streaked with pink and orange, and the crickets were chirping noisily. From an upstairs window I heard Lane protest, “But I don’t need to wash my hair! I washed it three days ago!”
Finn chuckled. “That kid never wants to wash his hair.”
I smiled, tipping up my beer. “They’re getting so big.”
“They are. And I’m getting old.”
But you’re lucky, Finn. So fucking lucky.
He drank too. “Nervous about tomorrow?”
“Should I be?” I looked over at him.
He shrugged. His shoulders were less broad than mine, but we had similar builds and coloring, although he wore his hair shorter and was slightly thicker through the middle. “I don’t think there will be any surprises. He’ll just go over the surgery with you.”
I nodded, and we were both silent for a minute.
“I want to ask you what you’re thinking, but I don’t want to pressure you.”
“You can ask. I don’t have an answer, though.”
“Fair enough.” He paused. Drank. “How was your weekend in Detroit?”
I crossed my ankles. “Fine.”
It didn’t, of course.
All I could do was picture the look on Maren’s face when I’d told her I didn’t love her. Hear her sobbing. She’d been devastated, as I knew she would be. Goddammit, it wasn’t supposed to happen!
But I wanted her to be happy, and the only way that could happen was without me in her life. She’d realize that in time. She was smart—smart enough to put everything together about what was going on with me. Groaning, I rolled onto my back and stared at the ceiling. It was exactly as I’d suspected—the tears and sadness, the pity and fear. Why the hell would she want any of that in her life?
I loved her too much to put her through it. Better to disappoint her in the short term than sentence her for life. But fuck—fuck—it hurt me, too.
I grabbed the pillow from behind my head and put it over my face. It smelled like lavender.
My throat closed. My chest tightened. My heart ached at the thought that I’d never kiss her goodnight or sleep next to her or wake up with her again—and someone else would.
But that was the price I had to pay.
I landed in Boston around one o’clock the following afternoon. I hadn’t slept well, the flight had been bumpy, and my stomach was upset, probably because of the Depakote combined with the lack of food. To say I was grumpy was an understatement.
I barked at someone in baggage claim for standing too close to me, I was a dick to the guy at the rental car agency when the SUV I wanted wasn’t available, and I ignored Finn’s texts asking if I was on my way. I’d never even told him which flight I was on or when it would arrive.
Instead, I put his address into my GPS and drove to his house, cursing and grumbling the entire way that I should have stayed in a hotel. How the fuck was I going to even breathe with four people in my face all the time?
Bree answered my knock on the front door, and her face lit up when she saw me. “Hey, Dallas!”
“Hey.”
She held the door open for me, and as soon as I was inside, she let go and threw her arms around me. “It’s so good to see you.”
The hug felt good, and I found my temperamental mood easing up a bit. “You too.”
She released me and stepped back, eyeing me at arm’s length. “You look good.”
“So do you.” My brother’s wife was pretty and petite, with shoulder-length dark hair that was pulled off her face and a generous smile. It was a warm day, and she was dressed in cut-off shorts and a tank top smudged with dirt as if she’d been working outside.
“Oh Lord, I’m a mess. I’ve been in the garden already this morning. But come on in. Finn’s at work—I don’t think he knew exactly when you were arriving—but the kids are running around here somewhere. Oly! Lane!” she called out. “Uncle Dallas is here.”
A second later, they came barreling toward me, Oly flying down the stairs in a bathing suit and Lane zooming in from the direction of the kitchen. “Yay!” one of them cried as both of them wrapped around my legs like monkeys. “You’re here!”
“I’m here.” The sight of them lifted my spirits even more. “And I have presents for you somewhere in my bag.”
The kids cheered while Bree parked her hands on her hips. “You send them too much stuff already. They’re still eating all the Easter candy you shipped here.”
“What are uncles for?” I ruffled Lane’s hair and tweaked Olympia’s ear.
“Want to go swimming with me?” she asked. “We have a pool now.”
“I know, I heard about it. I’d love to. Got a diving board?”
My niece nodded happily. “I can dive off it.”
“I’ll teach you how to do a backflip,” I told her.
“Dallas Shepherd, don’t you dare.” My sister-in-law swatted at my shoulder.
I smiled. “Let me take my bags upstairs and I’ll find my suit, okay, Oly?”
“Okay.”
“Are you hungry?” Bree asked. “I have some pasta salad and some deviled eggs.”
“That sounds good. I haven’t eaten yet today.” My stomach was feeling a little better, and food actually sounded good.
“I’ll fix you a plate. You can take your things upstairs. You remember where the guest room is?”
I nodded. “Thanks.”
Upstairs in the guest room, I dug my swimsuit and the kids’ gifts out of my bag. The Tigers merchandise reminded me of being at the game with Maren, and a pit opened inside me. How was she today? I’d had no calls or messages from her, which surprised me. Was she too hurt and angry? Or was she trying to forget me already?
It doesn’t matter. A clean break, remember?
I did my best to put her out of my mind and spent the afternoon with Bree and the kids, who loved their Tigers gear and had fun showing off their swimming and diving skills. I dazzled them all (plus some other neighborhood urchins) with my backflip and thunderous cannonball off the diving board, participated in underwater tea parties, diving for pennies, and about a million games of Marco Polo.
For dinner, I grilled cheeseburgers and hot dogs, and Bree brought out corn on the cob and broccoli salad, which the kids complained about but ate after their mother told them there would be no ice cream if they didn’t.
Finn arrived home while we were eating on the patio, kissed his wife hello, ruffled each of the kids’ wet heads, and offered me his hand. I thought for sure he’d make a comment about my ignoring his texts or failing to let them know when I would arrive, but he didn’t. “Glad you made it,” he said.
“Thanks.”
He changed clothes and joined us at the table, and I found myself looking at him differently as I watched him interact with his family. I wasn’t sure why. Was it because I knew he was seeing a therapist? Or because I kept waiting for him to harangue me about the surgery and he wasn’t? Was he different somehow, maybe a little less intense and more relaxed? Was it because I knew he was interested in mending our relationship, maybe hearing me out before he dismissed my side of things as irrational or foolish or reckless?
Whatever it was, it helped to put me at ease. I didn’t feel as on guard or defensive as I usually did around him. I liked watching him with his wife and kids, and for the first time, I envied what he had. Home. Family. Security. Belonging. I felt a part of it too, which was nice, but it wasn’t mine. It never would be.
Later, after the ice cream had been eaten and the dishes were cleared and the kids had been dragged off to the bathtub by Bree, Finn asked if I wanted to have a beer with him out by the pool.
I hesitated. “The meds.”
“No pressure, but I think one beer is okay.”
“Okay, then. I’ll have one with you.” I was feeling better than I had this morning, at least physically.
Finn brought out two uncapped bottles and handed one to me, and we stretched out in two adjacent deck chairs. The sky was streaked with pink and orange, and the crickets were chirping noisily. From an upstairs window I heard Lane protest, “But I don’t need to wash my hair! I washed it three days ago!”
Finn chuckled. “That kid never wants to wash his hair.”
I smiled, tipping up my beer. “They’re getting so big.”
“They are. And I’m getting old.”
But you’re lucky, Finn. So fucking lucky.
He drank too. “Nervous about tomorrow?”
“Should I be?” I looked over at him.
He shrugged. His shoulders were less broad than mine, but we had similar builds and coloring, although he wore his hair shorter and was slightly thicker through the middle. “I don’t think there will be any surprises. He’ll just go over the surgery with you.”
I nodded, and we were both silent for a minute.
“I want to ask you what you’re thinking, but I don’t want to pressure you.”
“You can ask. I don’t have an answer, though.”
“Fair enough.” He paused. Drank. “How was your weekend in Detroit?”
I crossed my ankles. “Fine.”
