Only Him
Page 48
It was a long time before she released me. “So when do you leave?”
“I haven’t booked a ticket yet, but probably Tuesday or Wednesday. And I have a ton of shit to do before then, so I’m not sure how much I can work.” Besides getting my house in order and packing up, I had to make a will, something I’d never even thought about. Finn had suggested it, although he assured me it was just a precaution, and actually, I hadn’t even freaked out.
Much.
Beatriz waved a hand in front of her face. “Don’t even think about work. Take time to do what you need to do.”
“Thanks. I’ll stop in before I leave and clean out my station. But if it’s okay with you, I was going to give my brother here his first ink.”
She looked at Finn in surprise. “Really?”
He shrugged, a little color coming into his face. “I’ve been thinking about it for a while. Seems like a good time, since I’m here.”
Beatriz nodded. “Absolutely. And you can’t go wrong with Dallas. He’s the best.” She lowered her voice to a whisper. “But don’t tell anyone here I said that.”
Finn laughed. “Never.”
She looked at me. “Let’s have a drink before you go, okay? Maybe we can even drag Evan out of the house.”
“Sounds good.”
I took Finn over to my station, and we looked through a book of stencils I had for other tattoos I had done. He didn’t want anything too big and only had one idea—his kids’ names and their birthdates. Nothing wrong with that idea, and I’d have done it, but I thought it might be a little more meaningful if it had more personality. I happened to have some of the artwork Olympia and Lane had sent me taped on the wall in my cubical, and we decided to do their first names in their own handwriting along with their birthdates. Finn liked the drawing I did, and I suggested it might be nice to put it on the left side of his chest.
“Let’s do it,” he said.
I created a stencil, cleaned and shaved the area, and applied the design. Both Beatriz and I thought it was the perfect placement, and Finn gave the go ahead.
“You nervous?” I asked as I finished prepping.
“A little,” he admitted, lying back in the chair. “But I trust you.”
“Good.” Then I pulled on my gloves and got to work.
Finn and I hung out all day Friday, and he helped me make a list of things I should take care of before leaving for Boston, which I’d booked for Wednesday. He loved his new tattoo and said he couldn’t wait to show Bree and the kids. I could tell he felt pretty badass about it, and it made me happy. The only tense moment between us came when he asked if I planned to tell Maren about the surgery. I said no, and he asked my permission to let her know.
“She cares, Dallas,” he said, tipping back his beer at dinner Friday night. He glanced at the ink on my forearm, where the skin was still healing. “And if you care about her—”
“You know I do,” I snapped. “Caring about her isn’t the issue.”
“Then call her.” He set the bottle down hard. “She’d want to know.”
“No.” I focused on my right hand, which was spinning my water glass around. There was no fucking way I could handle hearing her voice.
“Dallas.”
“No, Finn. I promised her I wouldn’t contact her again.” And I could keep that one promise, at least, couldn’t I? For fuck’s sake, I’d broken every other one I’d ever made to her.
He sighed. “Any objection to my telling her?”
I shrugged. “Suit yourself.”
When I took him to the airport on Saturday, he hugged me goodbye and told me how much he’d enjoyed spending time with me—it was the first time we’d ever done that without his family or our parents around, too. “We should do this again sometime. A guys’ weekend.”
“We should.” Although these days, I wasn’t counting on anything in the future.
“See you in Boston.”
“See you. Safe trip home.”
I spent the next few days cleaning my house, clearing out the fridge, and packing my bags. I got a haircut, checked in with my neurologist, who was happy to hear I’d elected to have surgery, set up auto-pay for my monthly bills, and asked my next-door neighbor to bring in the mail. On Monday, I saw my lawyer, who had created a will according to my specifications. If anything happened to me, my inheritance, and anything else left over after settling the estate, would be split equally between Olympia and Lane. I was only renting my house, so I didn’t have to worry about that, and anything in it, I wanted donated. Two other attorneys in his office served as witnesses while I signed it.
All day, every day, I thought about Maren. Missed her with an intensity that rivaled the pain in my head. My house had never felt so fucking lonely.
But it was nothing less than I deserved for what I’d done.
On Tuesday night, I met Beatriz and Evan for a drink at the Teardrop Lounge. We congratulated Evan again and asked to see pictures of his son, and he happily obliged. He had dark shadows under his eyes and said nights were rough, but I could tell he was happy. I envied him.
Our drinks arrived—since Beatriz had offered to pick me up and drop me off, I’d indulged in some whiskey—and we raised our glasses.
“To Hunter William,” Beatriz said. “May he take after his mother as much as possible. And to Dallas’s speedy and full recovery.”
“I’ll drink to that,” said Evan.
Evan finished his cocktail quickly and had to get home, but he shook my hand before he left and told me both he and Reyna were pulling for me, and asked me to let them know how everything went as soon as I could. I said I would.
As soon as we were alone at the table, Beatriz lit into me.
“You look miserable,” she said.
“I feel worse than I look.”
“Still haven’t talked to the girl?”
I shook my head.
“Why not?”
“Because if I hear her voice, I’ll fall apart,” I said quietly.
“Dude.” She lifted her drink to her lips and sipped. “You’re a fucking mess. I’m not trying to tell you what to do, but let me tell you what to do.”
I frowned at her.
“I’ve been thinking about this a lot, ever since you conned me into giving you that tattoo. You need to come clean with her. It’s got you all fucked in the head. Your aura is, like, choking on this pain.”
“It’s all I have of her.”
“Christ, Dallas. Do you even hear yourself? You’re clinging to the pain and guilt instead of the woman you love. She could be there by your side getting you through this. She’d make you stronger, you know. I bet you’d fight harder.”
Her words made sense, but I’d already done too much damage. “I fucked things up too much. They can’t be fixed. It’s too late.”
“You haven’t even tried!”
“She probably wouldn’t even talk to me.”
Beatriz shrugged. “Guess you’ll have to find that out.”
I sat there for a few minutes, staring into my whiskey. “I miss her, Bea. I really fucking miss her.”
“I know, babe.”
“I thought coming back here and burying my head in the sand would make me feel better, but it didn’t.”
“It never does.”
“And I’m scared.” It felt good to say it aloud.
“Of what?”
“Of dying. Of losing feeling in my right hand. Of needing people to take care of me. Of not being enough for her.” I looked up at her and admitted the truth. “But I can’t keep living like this. It’s only been ten days, and I’m going crazy.”
“So do something about it, Dallas.” She reached out and touched my wrist. “We all make mistakes. We’re all human. What sets one man apart from the next is what happens afterward.”
Exhaling, I closed my eyes. “I don’t even know what to say to her. How to explain myself. I told her a bunch of lies. She won’t know what to believe.”
“Can I offer a suggestion?”
“I haven’t booked a ticket yet, but probably Tuesday or Wednesday. And I have a ton of shit to do before then, so I’m not sure how much I can work.” Besides getting my house in order and packing up, I had to make a will, something I’d never even thought about. Finn had suggested it, although he assured me it was just a precaution, and actually, I hadn’t even freaked out.
Much.
Beatriz waved a hand in front of her face. “Don’t even think about work. Take time to do what you need to do.”
“Thanks. I’ll stop in before I leave and clean out my station. But if it’s okay with you, I was going to give my brother here his first ink.”
She looked at Finn in surprise. “Really?”
He shrugged, a little color coming into his face. “I’ve been thinking about it for a while. Seems like a good time, since I’m here.”
Beatriz nodded. “Absolutely. And you can’t go wrong with Dallas. He’s the best.” She lowered her voice to a whisper. “But don’t tell anyone here I said that.”
Finn laughed. “Never.”
She looked at me. “Let’s have a drink before you go, okay? Maybe we can even drag Evan out of the house.”
“Sounds good.”
I took Finn over to my station, and we looked through a book of stencils I had for other tattoos I had done. He didn’t want anything too big and only had one idea—his kids’ names and their birthdates. Nothing wrong with that idea, and I’d have done it, but I thought it might be a little more meaningful if it had more personality. I happened to have some of the artwork Olympia and Lane had sent me taped on the wall in my cubical, and we decided to do their first names in their own handwriting along with their birthdates. Finn liked the drawing I did, and I suggested it might be nice to put it on the left side of his chest.
“Let’s do it,” he said.
I created a stencil, cleaned and shaved the area, and applied the design. Both Beatriz and I thought it was the perfect placement, and Finn gave the go ahead.
“You nervous?” I asked as I finished prepping.
“A little,” he admitted, lying back in the chair. “But I trust you.”
“Good.” Then I pulled on my gloves and got to work.
Finn and I hung out all day Friday, and he helped me make a list of things I should take care of before leaving for Boston, which I’d booked for Wednesday. He loved his new tattoo and said he couldn’t wait to show Bree and the kids. I could tell he felt pretty badass about it, and it made me happy. The only tense moment between us came when he asked if I planned to tell Maren about the surgery. I said no, and he asked my permission to let her know.
“She cares, Dallas,” he said, tipping back his beer at dinner Friday night. He glanced at the ink on my forearm, where the skin was still healing. “And if you care about her—”
“You know I do,” I snapped. “Caring about her isn’t the issue.”
“Then call her.” He set the bottle down hard. “She’d want to know.”
“No.” I focused on my right hand, which was spinning my water glass around. There was no fucking way I could handle hearing her voice.
“Dallas.”
“No, Finn. I promised her I wouldn’t contact her again.” And I could keep that one promise, at least, couldn’t I? For fuck’s sake, I’d broken every other one I’d ever made to her.
He sighed. “Any objection to my telling her?”
I shrugged. “Suit yourself.”
When I took him to the airport on Saturday, he hugged me goodbye and told me how much he’d enjoyed spending time with me—it was the first time we’d ever done that without his family or our parents around, too. “We should do this again sometime. A guys’ weekend.”
“We should.” Although these days, I wasn’t counting on anything in the future.
“See you in Boston.”
“See you. Safe trip home.”
I spent the next few days cleaning my house, clearing out the fridge, and packing my bags. I got a haircut, checked in with my neurologist, who was happy to hear I’d elected to have surgery, set up auto-pay for my monthly bills, and asked my next-door neighbor to bring in the mail. On Monday, I saw my lawyer, who had created a will according to my specifications. If anything happened to me, my inheritance, and anything else left over after settling the estate, would be split equally between Olympia and Lane. I was only renting my house, so I didn’t have to worry about that, and anything in it, I wanted donated. Two other attorneys in his office served as witnesses while I signed it.
All day, every day, I thought about Maren. Missed her with an intensity that rivaled the pain in my head. My house had never felt so fucking lonely.
But it was nothing less than I deserved for what I’d done.
On Tuesday night, I met Beatriz and Evan for a drink at the Teardrop Lounge. We congratulated Evan again and asked to see pictures of his son, and he happily obliged. He had dark shadows under his eyes and said nights were rough, but I could tell he was happy. I envied him.
Our drinks arrived—since Beatriz had offered to pick me up and drop me off, I’d indulged in some whiskey—and we raised our glasses.
“To Hunter William,” Beatriz said. “May he take after his mother as much as possible. And to Dallas’s speedy and full recovery.”
“I’ll drink to that,” said Evan.
Evan finished his cocktail quickly and had to get home, but he shook my hand before he left and told me both he and Reyna were pulling for me, and asked me to let them know how everything went as soon as I could. I said I would.
As soon as we were alone at the table, Beatriz lit into me.
“You look miserable,” she said.
“I feel worse than I look.”
“Still haven’t talked to the girl?”
I shook my head.
“Why not?”
“Because if I hear her voice, I’ll fall apart,” I said quietly.
“Dude.” She lifted her drink to her lips and sipped. “You’re a fucking mess. I’m not trying to tell you what to do, but let me tell you what to do.”
I frowned at her.
“I’ve been thinking about this a lot, ever since you conned me into giving you that tattoo. You need to come clean with her. It’s got you all fucked in the head. Your aura is, like, choking on this pain.”
“It’s all I have of her.”
“Christ, Dallas. Do you even hear yourself? You’re clinging to the pain and guilt instead of the woman you love. She could be there by your side getting you through this. She’d make you stronger, you know. I bet you’d fight harder.”
Her words made sense, but I’d already done too much damage. “I fucked things up too much. They can’t be fixed. It’s too late.”
“You haven’t even tried!”
“She probably wouldn’t even talk to me.”
Beatriz shrugged. “Guess you’ll have to find that out.”
I sat there for a few minutes, staring into my whiskey. “I miss her, Bea. I really fucking miss her.”
“I know, babe.”
“I thought coming back here and burying my head in the sand would make me feel better, but it didn’t.”
“It never does.”
“And I’m scared.” It felt good to say it aloud.
“Of what?”
“Of dying. Of losing feeling in my right hand. Of needing people to take care of me. Of not being enough for her.” I looked up at her and admitted the truth. “But I can’t keep living like this. It’s only been ten days, and I’m going crazy.”
“So do something about it, Dallas.” She reached out and touched my wrist. “We all make mistakes. We’re all human. What sets one man apart from the next is what happens afterward.”
Exhaling, I closed my eyes. “I don’t even know what to say to her. How to explain myself. I told her a bunch of lies. She won’t know what to believe.”
“Can I offer a suggestion?”
