by W Winters
“Dean.” When I say his name, my voice cracks and his eyes spark with slight fear. The same fear that runs through my own blood.
“Let’s get out of here,” he says as his dark eyes pierce into mine. “Let’s just go.”
“Where are you going?” I ask him as my heart pounds and I barely get the words out. The dreaded sickness stirs in my belly. I have to tell him. And that’s why I refuse to let his hand go. It may be the last time I ever hold him.
The sound of a passing car in the street behind us catches my attention, but I feel Dean’s gaze and it never leaves me.
“I don’t care. Anywhere,” he says while still staring deep into my eyes.
“It sounds a lot like running away to me,” I tell him honestly with a shaky breath. The bitter wind of the cold night whips by us and it only makes each of us move closer to the other. I’m on the edge of falling again, but this time, I don’t want to stop myself. I almost don’t want to tell him. I want to run away with him. So long as I’m with him.
“Maybe sometimes,” he pauses and takes my hand in his, taking a step closer to me. I have to lift my head to look him in the eyes. “Maybe sometimes it’s okay to run away.”
“I thought we were only supposed to run toward something?” I remind him.
“I don’t give a fuck what you call it, Allie. As long as I’m running with you, that’s all that matters to me.”
My eyes close and I lean into Dean’s hard chest. His strong arms wrap around me and I cling to him. “Can we forget the past?” I ask him softly, my question lingering in the heat between us. “I don’t want to remember any of it anymore.”
I can feel the urge to lie. To keep it all a secret. My heart begs me not to speak the truth.
“You don’t have a choice there, Allie Cat. It’s not going to go away, but it doesn’t have to make us.”
My fingers skim along his shirt and my conscience begs me to confess to him, at war with everything else. The moment my lips part, his finger slips down against my lips.
I shake my head away from his fingers, refusing his protest.
“Dean, I have something I have to tell you,” I say and swallow thickly, hating myself in this moment. I hate what I’ve become. How revenge and justice consumed me. My obsession changed who I was. For years.
I’m only vaguely aware of where we are and how someone could overhear, but I’m so afraid that if I don’t tell him right now, I never will.
“Is it about what happened?” Dean asks me, his voice hard and I can only nod. The words pile up in the back of my throat, suffocating me. “Then I don’t want to hear it.”
“You have to,” I plead with him. “It’s about me,” I start to say, and my words come out scratchy as my throat closes. “It’s my fault.”
“You didn’t make him hurt you.” Dean’s shoulders tense as he looks at me without holding back any emotion. The air turns bitter cold between us. “I don’t care if you feel like you should have known. Fuck, I don’t care if you were drunk and passed out naked with the door wide open,” Dean’s words are harsh as he lets the anger slip in. “I don’t care if you blame yourself. I don’t care if the world thinks you should have known. I don’t give a fuck.”
I worry my bottom lip as tears prick my eyes.
“He didn’t do it just once,” Dean says, and I can’t hold back anything anymore.
I let out a hard, ugly sob, the images of Sam going up the stairs flashing through my mind. Shouldn’t we have known back then? I wish we had. God, I swear I wish we had. “I want to take it back,” I say, barely getting the words out.
“Allie Cat, don’t cry.” Dean’s words come out softly and he pulls me into his arms again.
“Please,” I beg him as if he alone has the power to go back. I need him to listen. To hear me, and to understand.
He kisses my temple, my hair, rocking me as my tears slowly subside. I sniffle and try not to get his shirt wet, but he doesn’t let me pull away.
“I’m not innocent,” I tell Dean, looking him in the eyes and feeling the confession right there. “I’m telling you when I opened that door--”
“You let him in,” Dean says and cuts me off. “That’s all opening that door did. You let him in.”
“I knew who he was.” I let out the first part of the confession, the dark dirty secret spilling out in small pieces.
“All you did was let him in.”
I gave him the chance he needed. There’s an evil in the eyes of those who cause pain. It won’t be influenced. I should know. And I knew when I opened that door that I was staring into the eyes of a man who would hurt me. And I welcomed him.
“I wanted him to come in. I wanted him to hurt me.” My words are strangled, but Dean hears them.
His grip on me loosens as he looks down at me with an expression of disbelief.
“My friend Sam. He raped her,” I have to stop and cover my mouth with my hand as I gasp for air. My eyes close as I try to calm myself down and Dean holds me, begging me to just come with him, but I need to get it out.
“Dean,” I barely manage to look him in the eyes as I cling to his forearms and confess. “I came here knowing who he was. I wanted him to hurt me, so I could get justice for what he did to Sam.” It’s her name on my lips that makes my voice crack and the tears fall. “I knew what I was doing, but I didn’t want this.”
Dean doesn’t speak as the night gets colder and darker and a gust of wind pulls my hair behind my shoulder, baring my neck and letting the chill travel down my spine.
“So, if you want to run, I don’t know that you’d really want me to be the one beside you. I’m not a good person, and I haven’t been in so long. I hated him, Dean. I wanted him to pay…”
Dean takes a step backward, and the chill instantly replaces what’s left of his warmth, but I can’t stop myself from telling him everything.
“I came here,” I pause as my vision clouds with tears and my shoulders shake. “I came here to set him up. I knew he would do it again. I just had to give him the chance.”
“He already had,” Dean says although his gaze is vacant, and his words fall flat. “That girl in our class… he already had.”
“I didn’t know,” I admit and then wipe under my eyes with the sleeves of my sweater. I can barely look Dean in the eyes.
“I didn’t know I would meet you, let alone…” I hesitate to admit what’s between us. Or what was between us. It’s odd, sensing the sickness of the truth being quickly replaced by emptiness. And that’s all that’s left as I wait for Dean’s judgment. But he doesn’t say anything.
“Please talk to me.” I have no right to speak to him, but I still beg him. If he hates me, I’ll deserve it.
“Say it,” Dean commands me. “Tell me.”
“Tell you what?” I grasp at anything I can to give Dean what he wants. “I didn’t know I’d fall for you. I didn’t think this would happen.”
“You didn’t think I’d kill him?” he asks as if he really thinks I’d set him up for that. I shake my head violently, praying that he’ll believe me.
“Never. I never expected for one moment that you would get hurt.”
“You thought you could let him hurt you like that, and that I’d be okay?” he asks me, his eyes narrowed and his hands clench and unclench. He’s on edge and for the first time, I’m scared.
“I thought you were done with me,” I whisper and hearing the words and feeling the reality of them in this moment, makes a sharp pain tear through me, regret seeping into my veins.
“How could you ever think that?” Dean asks me in a single breath.
I can’t answer. I don’t have the words or the logic. “I just wanted him to pay for what he did to her.” That’s the truth. The need for him to get what he deserved outweighed everything else.
“You will never do that again,” Dean commands. “And you’ll never talk about this again,” he says and my breath halts. “Never tell anyone else. No one.”
I nod
my head, clasping my hands in front of me and with my posture as still as can be. My heart races and a flicker of hope lights inside of me. Dean looks at me for a long time, as if judging what he believes and what he finds lacking. Please believe me. My body trembles as I try not to grip on to him. As I wait for whatever it is he needs. Whatever it is, I’ll give it to him.
“Is that everything?” he asks me. “Tell me now.”
My bottom lip drops, but I don’t know what he’s asking or what he wants.
“What else are you hiding?” he asks in a raised voice and I cower as I shake my head and insist, “Nothing, nothing.”
“You won’t lie to me again.” His voice is hard.
I almost tell him that I never lied, but that wouldn’t be true. I kept the truth from him, and that action in and of itself was a lie.
“Is there anyone else that you want to hurt you?” he asks me, and I can’t stand the anger that’s there.
“I’m sorry,” I tell him in a croak, shame washing over me.
“Do you realize what could have happened? What he would have done to you?” Dean asks and his own voice cracks.
“Not until he was,” I start to say and remember how heavy his body was, how much it hurt.
My eyes squeeze shut tight, but not tight enough. I just want it all to go away. “I wish I could take it back. I’m so sorry.”
“I would do it again, Allie. I’d kill anyone who tried to hurt you.”
“I didn’t mean for that to happen.”
“Don’t keep anything from me, do you hear me?” he asks me, and his voice is consoling this time.
“I promise,” I tell him with all sincerity. “I have no more secrets.”
“Good, because I still love you. I love you, Allison.”
I finally breathe, a large gulp of air that’s nearly too much as I collapse into him. His arms wrap around me tightly, holding me just as fiercely as I hold him.
“And I want you to come with me.” His words are whispered into my hair.
I can only nod, I can’t speak anymore. I have nothing left to give, but if I ever I do, it’s all for Dean.
Before I’m ready, Dean pulls me away from him, letting the cold air come between us and for a moment, I think he’s changing his mind. But then he speaks.
“Just don’t stop loving me,” he says as he stares deeply into my eyes.
“Never,” I breathe the word quickly, desperate for him to know how true it is. “I love you. I love you more than you’ll ever know.”
Chapter 36
Dean
* * *
“How many boxes?” I ask Allie as I pull the clear packaging tape down the center of the box.
“Fourteen,” she tells me, appearing from the kitchen doorway with a cup of tea in her hands. “It all fit in fourteen boxes,” she says, leaning her hip against the wall and then blowing over the cup.
She kept the empty cardboard boxes, breaking them down and stacking them neatly in the pantry. Like she knew she was going to need them before long.
Every time I’m reminded of why she came here, the very thing that brought her to me, my chest aches with a pain that runs deep. A pain I don’t think will ever leave me.
“You sure you don’t want a cup?” her small voice carries into the room and snaps me out of the dark thought.
When I glance up at her, ready to say no again, the hint of happiness is on her face. Or maybe it’s hope. With her hair draped over her shoulders and wearing nothing but one of my old rugby shirts, she looks perfect. The shirt clings to the middle of her waist when she stands like that. Everything about her makes me want to take her into my arms and never let go.
“Maybe I will,” I tell her and drop the roll of tape on the floor, turning the box upright. We have two boxes packed and within just a few hours, Allie’s place will be cleared out.
As I stand, my back cracks and my stiff neck and shoulders ache. I haven’t slept for shit, not since I got out of jail and I don’t think I will again until we leave this place.
Her small, bare feet pad against the floor as she heads back into the kitchen.
I follow the sound of her running the faucet and then opening and closing the microwave. She’s in front of it, gripping the counter and staring absently ahead when I walk in.
“Allie Cat,” I barely speak her name. Her green eyes search for mine instantly. Every time I move or speak, she’s there waiting for me. That’s the way it’s been since I’ve been back here. She’s on edge and nervous. She doesn’t know what lies ahead, and neither do I.
But I know it’ll be alright, so long as she’s with me.
In three strides I’m beside her, silencing the microwave with the mug of water in it for tea and pulling her into my arms instead.
“I want to hear you tell me you’re alright,” I whisper, cupping her chin in my hand and forcing her eyes to mine. She doesn’t have a trace of makeup on and under her eyes are dark circles, although she’s been sleeping alright.
“I couldn’t be with you because I didn’t want to be okay and you made me so much more than just okay.”
“You know I love you,” I tell her. It’s not the first or second or third time I’ve told her since I’ve come home to her. And I’ll keep telling her until the look in her green eyes reflects that she knows they’re true.
“I love you,” she says back in barely a whisper, her expression changing to one of complete sincerity but also laced with pain. Her eyes close as she lets out a breath and pushes her cheek into my hand.
I knew she was hiding something and that’s what drew me to her. From the very beginning, she was a mystery.
The dark secrets I didn’t expect. Who could’ve ever expected this?
Allie peeks up at me, the hurt and worry still in her eyes.
She’s walking on eggshells. She’s been this way for days and I hate myself for even feeling slightly angry toward her.
Even though she should have told me.
I love her.
I’d kill again for her. And she knows I would.
The moment she confessed, the pieces slowly fell into place.
The reason why she kept pushing me away even though we both knew we fit together just right.
The reason she seemed off to me when I first met her, the reason I was drawn to her.
* * *
“Come sit with me?” I ask her and she’s quick to give me the trace of a smile when I take her small hand in mine. She’s eager to make things right and to make me happy, I can feel it in everything she does. Every small look and move is cautious and eager to please.
I sit cross-legged on the floor of the dining room. The sofa’s already in the truck, so the barren floor will have to do.
“When did you become so shy, Allie Cat?” I ask her as she settles in my lap.
“Shy?”
“I feel like you’re hiding from me,” I tell her honestly.
“I’m just…”
“Ashamed?” I say the word I hate to think is the truth.
“And afraid,” she tells me softly in a single breath.
“Of what?”
“I don’t want to lose you, but I know I don’t deserve you.”
“You’re wrong.” My heart beats quicker, my blood runs warmer. All from fear of losing her. I swear I’ll never let her run again.
“I never meant for you to get hurt,” she tells me again. I don’t know why she feels the need. I believe her. Every word.
“I think it was supposed to happen this way,” I tell her and pull her soft body closer to mine. “I’m not mad at what you did.” I’m careful with my words as I tell her, “I’m upset you didn’t tell me.”
She only nods her head, casting her gaze down and picking at the hem of the shirt she’s wearing. My shirt. “What I did wasn’t okay,” she whispers.
I force her chin up with my hand on her jaw. “You only did it because something had to be done.”
“I did it out of anger,” she’s q
uick to admit. As if acting out of anger made her intentions worse.
“You did it out of pain,” I correct her.
Her eyes water and she closes them, not wanting to cry in front of me. Or maybe not wanting to cry at all.
“I’m sorry about Sam, and I’m not sorry that Kevin’s dead.”
“I’m not sorry he’s dead either,” she admits in a breath, closing her eyes and letting the tears seep into her thick lashes.
“I love you, Allison. I love you so fucking much. And it kills me that you never told me.”
“I didn’t know if you’d believe me,” she says, and it cuts through my heart. “But I also didn’t want you to stop me.” That’s the real truth. And I get it. I understand it. I still hate it though. “She needed this. Sam needed this,” she says and then breaks down in my arms.
“Where do we go from here?” I ask her. We both want to leave. We want a fresh start. We want each other. But there’s no roadmap for what lies ahead and that’s terrifying for her.
“Forgive me, and I’ll go wherever you want. I’ll run away forever. I’ll do whatever you want,” she says, brushing the tears away and leaving her cheeks reddened.
A heavy breath leaves me in a huff. “I’ve already forgiven you, Allie.”
“I love you. I’m so sorry,” she says hurriedly.
“Stop saying you’re sorry.” I plant a small kiss on her lips, tasting the hint of salt from her tears. “And I love you too,” I whisper against her lips.
A moment passes before she questions me.
“You really love me? Even, still?” she asks me, and I hate that she questions it.
“Of course, I do.” I brush my knuckles across her cheek and gently push the hair out of her face. “That’s not something I can stop,” I say before lowering my lips to hers.
She softens, eagerly accepting my kiss and parting her mouth for more.
“Please don’t stop,” she tells me when I pull away and at first, I think she means the kiss, but then she adds, “I can’t lose you…” Her voice skips and she takes in a quick breath. “I don’t know what I would do if you stopped loving me.”
