Only Him
Page 7
The memory of those lips on mine clutched at my throat—I couldn’t breathe.
Fuck you, universe.
“Hey, stranger.” Dallas’s voice was a little deeper. His chest a little broader. He wore dark jeans and a black T-shirt that fit him like a snakeskin—I mean, a second skin. Tattoos were scattered along his forearms, and on his wrist was a thick black watch.
Tick, tick, tick.
I swayed, a bit unsteady on my feet, and braced one hand on the doorframe.
“Maren? You okay?”
“Yes.” My voice cracked, and I cleared my throat. Forced my shoulders back. “I’m fine. What are you doing here?”
“I wanted to see you.”
“Why?”
“To apologize. Can I come in?”
“No.” It surprised me how raw my anger felt, given how much time had gone by. Like fresh blood spilling from an old wound.
He nodded slowly, sticking his hands in his pockets. “Fair enough. I know it’s probably a shock to see me.”
“To say the least.”
“I probably should have called you first.”
“You probably should have called me twelve years ago.”
He nodded. “You’re right. I should have.”
“Why didn’t you?”
“What can I say? I was a kid. It was a dick move.”
“That’s your apology?” I stared at him for a moment longer, then I shut the door in his face. He blocked it, keeping it from closing all the way.
“Hey, wait.” He pushed it open again, but he didn’t try to come in. “Look, I’m sorry. I don’t know what else to say. I was seventeen, and I didn’t know how to say goodbye.”
I crossed my arms over my chest. “Maybe you were too busy fucking me to remember.”
“What can I say? I like sex better than talking. And I’m much better at it.”
“Not. Funny.”
He took me by the upper arms, which were bare in my yoga top. Warmth pooled at my center, and I felt light-headed. His touch had always done that to me. “Maren, I’m sorry. Really and truly sorry for leaving that way. My parents sprung it on me less than twenty-four hours before they put me on a plane. After fighting with them, I went right to you. I have no excuse other than I didn’t want to spend our last night together being sad.”
“That was selfish of you. Maybe you didn’t want to say goodbye, but I would have liked the chance.”
“I should have given it to you. The truth is …” He took his hands off me. Ran one over his stubble, which distracted me, because I’d always loved his hands. “I thought you’d be better off without me.”
“That wasn’t your decision to make.”
“I know. I’m sorry.”
“Is that why you never answered my texts or calls?”
“Yes.” His dark eyes were solemn. “I knew I had let you down, and I was ashamed of myself for it. Can you forgive me?”
I exhaled, biting my lip. Could I? I liked to think of myself as a forgiving person. I certainly didn’t believe in holding grudges, and anyone who knew me would say I was a peacemaker, not a fighter. But I also felt like I’d earned the right to get a few things off my chest.
I forced myself to look him in the eye. “It took me a long time to get over what you did to me, Dallas.”
He nodded, letting me speak.
“My entire senior year, I was lonely and miserable. I kept waiting for you to get in touch and at least tell me you were okay, that we would be okay no matter what, just like you’d promised.” I shook my head, feeling my throat close up. “Was everything you said a lie?”
“No,” he said seriously. “I never lied to you, Maren. I was an immature asshole, and I made stupid decisions, but I never said anything I didn’t mean.”
You said you loved me, I almost shouted. You said you needed me. But I pulled myself together. What good would it do to throw that in his face at this point? Did I really want to hear him say he’d been just a kid who didn’t know what love was? Would that honestly make me feel better after all this time?
“You promised to take me to the senior prom,” I said instead. “You know what I did that night?”
“What?”
“Nothing. I sat home, and not because no one asked. A few guys did.”
His hands flexed at his sides. “Why didn’t you go?”
“Because I knew I’d only spend the evening missing you. It wouldn’t have been fun for my date or me. But you know what?” I stood a little taller. Puffed up my chest. “I should thank you. I never made the mistake of trusting someone too easily again.”
“Well … you’re welcome.” One side of his mouth hooked up in a sexy crooked grin that made me feel seventeen again.
“Stop that. I’m still mad at you.”
“You are?”
“Yes.” I gave him my meanest stare.
His grin widened. “Is that your evil eye? Fuck, that’s cute.”
“My anger is cute?”
“No. Yes. Wait, is that a trick question? You’re cute. Your anger is not. And I hate that I caused it. You were the last person on earth I ever wanted to hurt.”
“You were the last person on earth I ever thought would hurt me.”
He accepted that with a slow nod. “I’ll always be sorry for that. I deeply regret it.”
His eyes held mine, and I felt in my heart he was being sincere. It would feel good to forgive him, wouldn’t it? The past belonged in the past; the present was what mattered. And in the present, I was not a lovesick seventeen-year-old girl pining after a guy who’d left her behind, and Dallas was no longer that irresponsible, impulsive seventeen-year-old boy. He was a grown man who wanted to apologize for his thoughtless actions so long ago. Most guys probably wouldn’t have bothered.
Which made me wonder.
“I’m curious,” I said, folding my arms over my chest again. “Why now? After all these years?”
He looked down at his boots. “I don’t know. It just felt like it was time.”
Something told me that wasn’t the whole truth, but I didn’t press him. Maybe it had taken him this long to grow tired of carrying the burden of his guilt. Who was I to insist he keep doing it?
“Okay, Dallas,” I said, letting my arms drop. I imagined myself letting go of all the hurt like a child releases a helium balloon into the sky. “I forgive you.”
His shoulders relaxed as he exhaled. “Thank you.”
“Feel better?”
“Yes. Do you?”
“Yes.” It was the truth. I hadn’t realized how much I’d needed to hear him say those words, even after all that time. Maybe now my nightmares would stop. This had to be what the universe was warning me about, right?
“Well, it was good to see you,” he said, pulling keys from his pocket.
“You too,” I admitted, and suddenly there was a part of me that didn’t want him to go so quickly. “Do you … do you want to come in?”
He smiled. “Sure, thanks.”
My heart beat erratically as he followed me into the front hall and shut the door behind us.
“So are there two apartments in this house?” Dallas glanced up the stairs to the upper flat.
“Yes.” I opened the door to the lower, which led into my living room. “This one’s mine. How did you find out my address, anyway?”
“It wasn’t that hard.”
“That’s actually kind of scary.” I shut the door behind him.
“You live alone?” he asked.
“Yes.”
He wandered over to the bookcase along one wall and studied my framed photographs. “These are your sisters, right?”
I walked over and stood next to him, shoulder to shoulder. Or rather shoulder to bicep, since I was a good five inches shorter than he was in my bare feet. “Yes. That’s Stella, the oldest,” I said, pointing to her in a photo of the three of us taken at Emme’s engagement dinner a couple weeks ago. “And that’s Emme, my middle sister. She’s getting married this fall.”
Fuck you, universe.
“Hey, stranger.” Dallas’s voice was a little deeper. His chest a little broader. He wore dark jeans and a black T-shirt that fit him like a snakeskin—I mean, a second skin. Tattoos were scattered along his forearms, and on his wrist was a thick black watch.
Tick, tick, tick.
I swayed, a bit unsteady on my feet, and braced one hand on the doorframe.
“Maren? You okay?”
“Yes.” My voice cracked, and I cleared my throat. Forced my shoulders back. “I’m fine. What are you doing here?”
“I wanted to see you.”
“Why?”
“To apologize. Can I come in?”
“No.” It surprised me how raw my anger felt, given how much time had gone by. Like fresh blood spilling from an old wound.
He nodded slowly, sticking his hands in his pockets. “Fair enough. I know it’s probably a shock to see me.”
“To say the least.”
“I probably should have called you first.”
“You probably should have called me twelve years ago.”
He nodded. “You’re right. I should have.”
“Why didn’t you?”
“What can I say? I was a kid. It was a dick move.”
“That’s your apology?” I stared at him for a moment longer, then I shut the door in his face. He blocked it, keeping it from closing all the way.
“Hey, wait.” He pushed it open again, but he didn’t try to come in. “Look, I’m sorry. I don’t know what else to say. I was seventeen, and I didn’t know how to say goodbye.”
I crossed my arms over my chest. “Maybe you were too busy fucking me to remember.”
“What can I say? I like sex better than talking. And I’m much better at it.”
“Not. Funny.”
He took me by the upper arms, which were bare in my yoga top. Warmth pooled at my center, and I felt light-headed. His touch had always done that to me. “Maren, I’m sorry. Really and truly sorry for leaving that way. My parents sprung it on me less than twenty-four hours before they put me on a plane. After fighting with them, I went right to you. I have no excuse other than I didn’t want to spend our last night together being sad.”
“That was selfish of you. Maybe you didn’t want to say goodbye, but I would have liked the chance.”
“I should have given it to you. The truth is …” He took his hands off me. Ran one over his stubble, which distracted me, because I’d always loved his hands. “I thought you’d be better off without me.”
“That wasn’t your decision to make.”
“I know. I’m sorry.”
“Is that why you never answered my texts or calls?”
“Yes.” His dark eyes were solemn. “I knew I had let you down, and I was ashamed of myself for it. Can you forgive me?”
I exhaled, biting my lip. Could I? I liked to think of myself as a forgiving person. I certainly didn’t believe in holding grudges, and anyone who knew me would say I was a peacemaker, not a fighter. But I also felt like I’d earned the right to get a few things off my chest.
I forced myself to look him in the eye. “It took me a long time to get over what you did to me, Dallas.”
He nodded, letting me speak.
“My entire senior year, I was lonely and miserable. I kept waiting for you to get in touch and at least tell me you were okay, that we would be okay no matter what, just like you’d promised.” I shook my head, feeling my throat close up. “Was everything you said a lie?”
“No,” he said seriously. “I never lied to you, Maren. I was an immature asshole, and I made stupid decisions, but I never said anything I didn’t mean.”
You said you loved me, I almost shouted. You said you needed me. But I pulled myself together. What good would it do to throw that in his face at this point? Did I really want to hear him say he’d been just a kid who didn’t know what love was? Would that honestly make me feel better after all this time?
“You promised to take me to the senior prom,” I said instead. “You know what I did that night?”
“What?”
“Nothing. I sat home, and not because no one asked. A few guys did.”
His hands flexed at his sides. “Why didn’t you go?”
“Because I knew I’d only spend the evening missing you. It wouldn’t have been fun for my date or me. But you know what?” I stood a little taller. Puffed up my chest. “I should thank you. I never made the mistake of trusting someone too easily again.”
“Well … you’re welcome.” One side of his mouth hooked up in a sexy crooked grin that made me feel seventeen again.
“Stop that. I’m still mad at you.”
“You are?”
“Yes.” I gave him my meanest stare.
His grin widened. “Is that your evil eye? Fuck, that’s cute.”
“My anger is cute?”
“No. Yes. Wait, is that a trick question? You’re cute. Your anger is not. And I hate that I caused it. You were the last person on earth I ever wanted to hurt.”
“You were the last person on earth I ever thought would hurt me.”
He accepted that with a slow nod. “I’ll always be sorry for that. I deeply regret it.”
His eyes held mine, and I felt in my heart he was being sincere. It would feel good to forgive him, wouldn’t it? The past belonged in the past; the present was what mattered. And in the present, I was not a lovesick seventeen-year-old girl pining after a guy who’d left her behind, and Dallas was no longer that irresponsible, impulsive seventeen-year-old boy. He was a grown man who wanted to apologize for his thoughtless actions so long ago. Most guys probably wouldn’t have bothered.
Which made me wonder.
“I’m curious,” I said, folding my arms over my chest again. “Why now? After all these years?”
He looked down at his boots. “I don’t know. It just felt like it was time.”
Something told me that wasn’t the whole truth, but I didn’t press him. Maybe it had taken him this long to grow tired of carrying the burden of his guilt. Who was I to insist he keep doing it?
“Okay, Dallas,” I said, letting my arms drop. I imagined myself letting go of all the hurt like a child releases a helium balloon into the sky. “I forgive you.”
His shoulders relaxed as he exhaled. “Thank you.”
“Feel better?”
“Yes. Do you?”
“Yes.” It was the truth. I hadn’t realized how much I’d needed to hear him say those words, even after all that time. Maybe now my nightmares would stop. This had to be what the universe was warning me about, right?
“Well, it was good to see you,” he said, pulling keys from his pocket.
“You too,” I admitted, and suddenly there was a part of me that didn’t want him to go so quickly. “Do you … do you want to come in?”
He smiled. “Sure, thanks.”
My heart beat erratically as he followed me into the front hall and shut the door behind us.
“So are there two apartments in this house?” Dallas glanced up the stairs to the upper flat.
“Yes.” I opened the door to the lower, which led into my living room. “This one’s mine. How did you find out my address, anyway?”
“It wasn’t that hard.”
“That’s actually kind of scary.” I shut the door behind him.
“You live alone?” he asked.
“Yes.”
He wandered over to the bookcase along one wall and studied my framed photographs. “These are your sisters, right?”
I walked over and stood next to him, shoulder to shoulder. Or rather shoulder to bicep, since I was a good five inches shorter than he was in my bare feet. “Yes. That’s Stella, the oldest,” I said, pointing to her in a photo of the three of us taken at Emme’s engagement dinner a couple weeks ago. “And that’s Emme, my middle sister. She’s getting married this fall.”
