Meant to be More (Meant to Be Series Book 4)

by Amelia Foster

  He pulled a box of the dry plant-based faux chicken from the cabinet and added water and oil so he could form it into what he hoped would look like chicken strips. Earlier in the week Jillian had mentioned wanting chicken Caesar wraps and he’d stored the information away to make for dinner at some point.

  He was far from a culinary genius, but he managed to feed himself real food ever since he’d graduated college and found his own place, and he hadn’t poisoned himself in the process.

  Dean whistled lightly as he put the “tastes like chicken” strips in the oven to bake. He’d resolved himself to taking Jillian on a special date this weekend and talking to her about everything. Certainly the past ten days of wedded bliss and heated nights had to convince her that he was all in for real, not just for a while.

  Something he should have done a while ago, but he just…wanted the chance to show her just how good it could be if she was willing to take a chance on them.

  He pulled two plates down from the cabinet just as the door leading to the garage latched closed. “Hey, Jilly,” he called out. “I’m making dinner.”

  She hung her purse on yet another set of hooks she’d installed, this time by the basement entrance. “It smells good.” She leaned her rear end against the counter and drew her lips in between her teeth. “I need to talk to you about something.”

  The heat from the oven as he opened the door had him blinking against the steam. He took the pan that held the strips out and set it on top of the stove. “That sounds a bit ominous.”

  Distress etched itself in her features and she crossed her arms in front of her. “Sam offered me a job.”

  His heart thumped harder behind his breastbone. It was like he was receiving a gift he’d never asked for, but desperately needed. Part of what he loved most about Jillian was her endless drive to help as many people as she could. It was also something he worried about most.

  “You don’t look very happy about that. Most people are thrilled by a job offer.” He tried his damnedest to keep his tone light, but he also knew that she knew him well enough to hear everything he didn’t want her to.

  She sighed and took the plate he offered her filled with kettle-cooked potato chips and the Caesar chicken wrap and took her seat at the table. “It’s not that. It’s…it’s a great job and I’ve only been there a few days, but it is an amazing program.”

  He nodded and mirrored her actions, sitting to her right. “Yeah, we were pretty fortunate to get so much help from the medical community. Tons of doctors and nurses have been willing to donate time and supplies and it’s made a huge difference.”

  Jillian chewed one of the chips slowly and stared at him. “You’ve never actually answered any of my questions on how you know Sam.” She took a long drink of her water. “Or the ones where I ask exactly what the hell it is you do for Wyatt. If I didn’t know better, I’d think it was a government conspiracy.”

  “Don’t worry, Jillybean, I’m not an assassin and I have no plans to take you out.” He winked and was rewarded with her grin in response.

  The truth was telling her about the program he started with Mat was part of the whole declaring his love for her thing. She was the reason he’d started it, she was the reason he’d finally found his purpose, she was the driving force for everything. And she had no idea.

  Her faith in him, her gentle encouragement, and her unwavering support when he was drowning in a sea of uncertainty and doubt were exactly what he needed. And they all combined to give him the confidence to pursue something more meaningful with his life.

  He loved her in so many ways and just needed to grow a spine and say it.

  “Dean, I get that this marriage isn’t real—and I get that you should be nominated for sainthood for going through this for me—but you’re still my best friend and I don’t like not knowing what’s going on with you.” She swallowed the last bite of her wrap just as he finally took the first of his. A common theme for them.

  He smirked. “What do you think I do at the ranch?”

  Jillian grabbed the bag of chips from the counter, brought it back to the table, and loaded up her plate. “Exercise the horses? Clean the stalls? How the hell am I supposed to know what Wyatt has you doing?”

  Monstrous, long dormant feelings surfaced with a vengeance. Even though he knew it was totally unfair to Jillian, an unexpected wave of anger and frustration swept over him. She honestly thought that he’d failed at life so hard he had to have big brother Wyatt give him a pity job? He took a deep breath. Okay, that might be a reasonable assumption after he changed his major for the third time.

  But he had hoped Jillian of all people would think better of him.

  “Right.” He stood and emptied his half-eaten dinner into the trash, grinding his teeth as he rinsed his plate and put it in the dishwasher. “Because the baby of the family needs his family to come to the rescue, right?”

  Jillian rose from her seat and laid a hand on his forearm. “Dean, I never said that. You know I think you could do anything—”

  He snorted and ripped his arm away. Self-created wounds he thought had healed gaped and bled out every drop of inferiority he’d experienced growing up without the focus and determination of everyone around him.

  A small voice in the back of his mind told him that this was a ridiculous reaction to a completely valid assumption on her part. But the constant, nagging inferiority complex he’d harbored since adolescence—the one that he’d thought he finally silenced when he and Mat started their venture—screamed inside his head far louder than reason.

  Confused emerald green eyes stopped him and banished the pain for a brief moment. Heedless of what she’d think, what she would read into it, what he was admitting by the action, he grabbed her around the waist and pulled her flush with his body. His mouth captured hers, pouring every ounce of the confusing cascade of emotions that ran the gamut from love to frustration to anguish into the action.

  He released her and a million things begged to be spoken, but he needed a clear head to do that. Instead, he grabbed his helmet and exited the front door before he said or did something he could never take back.

  Dean drove around aimlessly for a few miles, then turned to point his motorcycle to the ranch. Nothing like gate crashing Wyatt and Georgia’s place.

  He parked his bike and pulled his phone out of his pocket. That was a jerk move and he knew it. He swiped his fingers across the screen and sent Jillian a text he hoped would help redeem him.

  Dean: I’m an ass, but I’m safe at the ranch. I’ll be home soon I promise.

  He sent the message and put the device away before he broke down and called her. He ascended the three steps that led to the wraparound porch surrounding his brother’s house and knocked twice.

  Wyatt pulled open the door and his gaze swept over Dean’s face. He sighed heavily. “What the hell did you do, little brother?”

  Dean lifted one shoulder and sighed. “Proved that I’m a Carlisle?”

  His older brother closed his eyes and groaned as he took a step to the side and held the door open wider, motioning Dean inside. “Dammit, I thought you’d be the one who wouldn’t screw everything up since Jillian is used to your bullshit.”

  ***

  Jillian

  Present Day

  Ass was an understatement.

  Jillian swiped the large drop from beneath her lower lid and sniffed. She curled into the corner of the couch, pulling her knees to her chest and clutching a pillow close. She made a mental note to get a cat. Or a dog. Anything furry that could handle being her emotional support.

  For the first time in a very long time she was lonely. Not just alone, but lonely. Alone was something she could handle, something she sometimes craved. Alone was okay because at any second she could reach out to Dean or Angela and the dark fingers of loneliness would recede. But lonely brought back every moment of her childhood when she would sit in a room filled to capacity with people in her designer dresses and imported shoes com
pletely ignored until one of her parents wanted to show her off to one associate or another. A vacant feeling that was her only constant companion until she met Dean.

  But Angela was back in the bush with limited communication.

  And Dean was…

  She sighed and rested the side of her head on the back of the sofa. Dean was dealing with shit and doing it badly. Apparently he’d forgotten that she knew him better than he knew himself.

  Jillian jumped up and grabbed her phone from the table where she’d left it after reading his text. Her fingers flew across the glass.

  Jillian: Whatever lies you’ve been telling yourself over the past twenty years aren’t true.

  She tucked the device into her pocket and paced the perimeter of the living room. “Clearly he thinks I’m an idiot.” She spoke out loud in the empty space, then covered her face with her hands. “Even a goldfish would be better than talking to myself at this point.”

  Her phone dinged to life and she grabbed it from the table.

  Dean: Do you have any idea how annoying it is when you read my mind?

  Her lips twitched and the tight band around her chest that barely allowed her to breathe loosened slightly.

  Jillian: I’d be a really shitty best friend if I let you hide stuff from me.

  She hesitated for half a second with her fingers poised over the screen, debating the merits of adding “and wife” to the message. She hit send before she fell too far down that particular rabbit hole.

  Dean: I’m not mad at you, I’m mad at myself, okay? And I’m a spineless jerk for sending this by text, but I am spending the night at Wyatt’s. I have early morning clients anyway and I just… I need a minute so I don’t alienate my best friend completely with my own shit.

  She stared at the screen and read the message three times, swallowing down the tears that threatened to spill over before giving up the fight. No one was here to witness her complete and utter decomposition.

  Her heart fractured as she interpreted the silent implication. He was hurting and there was nothing she could do to fix it. Not yet.

  With a deep breath, she grabbed the tissue box and loudly blew her nose. “I can’t keep doing this.” The whispered statement carried a heavy promise in the handful of words.

  A thought wormed through to the front of her brain. She leapt off the couch, dashed into the bathroom, and splashed cold water on her face. The image reflected back at her in the mirror was most certainly not a flattering one, but certainly would do. The icy spray from the sink had worked enough magic that she didn’t look like she’d been crying mere seconds earlier.

  She grabbed her purse and the keys from the hooks by the door leading to the basement and the integral garage. As the initial idea grew and blossomed, the ghost of a smile played about her lips.

  Twenty years of friendship replayed through her mind and tugged at her barely held together heart. Nearly hysterical laughter bubbled up at the back of her throat. “How in the hell did I ever think I wasn’t in love with him?”

  All of Dean’s favorite things immediately popped in her head and she pieced them together with memories they had shared. Within minutes it all came together and she had a perfect vision of exactly what Dean needed to feel better.

  And exactly what she needed to fortify herself to confess the one thing she’d never told him. That somewhere along the way she’d fallen in love with her best friend and that she’d been denying it for at least a decade because losing him completely was far more terrifying than anything else.

  But first…

  She glanced down at the clock on the dashboard of his ridiculously small sports car. First she needed to take a stand she wasn’t sure she was strong enough to make, but one that had to be in place first.

  Flicking the signal on the left side of the steering wheel up, she headed down the road that led to the house she’d grown up in. Her glass castle, as Dean liked to call it. She threw the car into park in front of the massive stone stairs leading to the front door. Without any of the manners that had been drilled into her since birth, she burst inside and stalked out to the back garden where she was certain her parents were “enjoying a night cap.”

  Which loosely translated to getting slightly drunk together because it was one of the few things they still had in common.

  “Jillian I’m shocked to see you, but—” Her mother lifted slightly from her chair, but Jillian stopped both her mother’s movement and words with a sharp shake of her head.

  She balled her shaking hands into fists that she concealed behind her back. “I’m sorry for barging in on you, but I needed to tell you something.” Jillian took a deep, fortifying breath and said the one thing she probably should have far sooner.

  “You need to contact whoever is handling your finances now and see if there is anything to save the house, your very important family legacy, because there is every chance that I won’t be able to fulfill the requirements of grandfather’s will.” She turned to face Edward and dropped her voice to just above a whisper. “And, Father, you need to get help. Professional help.”

  Edward Monroe opened his mouth, but Helena got to her feet and spoke first, silencing him. “You only need to give us eighteen months. You and that boy have spent your entire childhood and adolescence doing who knows what who knows where. You would disappear from practically every function rather than behaving as the proper young lady I tried to raise you to be.”

  Without giving her brain time to stop her mouth, she scoffed. “You raised me? Mother, you put Frieda and Henry in charge of me the moment you could.” She dug her nails into the palms of her hands and blinked against the anger-laced tears pricking the corners of her eyes. “And you sent me to every etiquette and finishing class you could find within a hundred mile radius.”

  Childhood memories flooded her mind, unbidden and unwanted. “You would have happily shipped me off to boarding school if Grandmother and Grandfather hadn’t stopped you.” Her mother’s paling complexion was the fire she most definitely didn’t need to urge her on. “Yes, I heard you fighting with them, telling them I would be better off thousands of miles away from everything I ever knew, everything that was familiar and comforting.”

  All the pain and hurt that she’d pushed down since she was little bubbled up and erupted from her mouth like a volcanic explosion. “You put on this façade that your life is devoted to charity, but only as long as it looks good, as long as you don’t get your hands dirty. But when your own child commits her life to going into third world countries and actually helping the people you use in pictures to drum up sympathy and donations, you act like it’s a disgrace. Like I’m a disgrace.”

  She choked on a sob and turned on her heel, fleeing the monstrous building as fast as her feet could carry her. She managed to get down the driveway and a few miles down the main road before she had to pull over and let the decades of repressed emotions wash over her, streams of tears pouring from her eyes.

  The only consolation she could find was the faint scent of Dean clinging to the car.

  Chapter Twenty-Seven

  Dean

  Present Day

  Footsteps coming down the stairs interrupted the speech working from Dean’s brain to his mouth as he and Wyatt took their seats in the living room. An immediate broad grin broke out on his brother’s face as Georgia came into view. Dean bit back a sigh.

  He knew what Wyatt and Georgia had gone through to be together. He knew all too well the mistakes his brother had made leading him to very nearly not winning back the woman he loved…and left immediately after their high school graduation. But he still had a pang of jealousy mixed with longing as Georgia leaned down as far as her protruding belly would allow and gave Wyatt a kiss.

  She turned to Dean and grinned. “What the hell are you doing here? You’re a newlywed, shouldn’t you be home making goo-goo eyes at your wife?”

  Wyatt shot his brother a knowing look and Dean dropped his head to stare at the hands clasped together, d
angling between his knees for a second before he swallowed and returned his gaze to Wyatt and a silently fuming Georgia.

  Her rapidly darkening glare bounced back and forth between her husband and brother-in-law until she finally let out a string of curses. She folded her arms, resting them on her swollen stomach. “You and Tanner are supposed to make sure the younger two don’t screw up like you.”

  Wyatt held his hands up, palms out toward his wife. “Don’t look at me. I told him to tell her he loves her.”

  With a deep groan, Dean closed his eyes and dropped his head onto the back of the couch.

  “Wait, back up. What the hell are you talking about?” She shook her head before he could even respond. “Never mind, you’re no help.” Georgia turned her attention to Dean. “You. Tell me what the Rhinestone Cowboy is talking about.”

  His brother snagged Georgia’s wrist and tugged her down to sit on his lap. “Although the whole avenging angel routine is hot as hell, maybe you could stop hovering over him so he can actually talk?”

  Georgia’s stormy expression melted slightly and she laced her fingers through Wyatt’s. “You’re lucky I’m a sucker for that hat.”

  “Okay, your over the top mushy gushy happiness is enough to turn my stomach on a normal day, but I’m currently on the verge of losing the dinner I didn’t even eat, so if you could tone it down, that would be great.” Dean glared at Wyatt’s responding laughter.

  A plea for mama rang out loudly from the second floor of the house and Georgia groaned as she forced herself to her feet. “I’m going to get Memphis back to sleep, but I require full information later.” She crossed the room and drug Dean to his feet for a firm embrace. “And no matter what you did, I’m certain Tanner and Wyatt can give you lessons on apologizing.”