Falling for Dante

by DJ Hunnam

  "Fuck that, man. Come out with me. I'm not going to have a lot of free time once this baby comes."

  I wasn't sure who needed the night out more. "Okay. Fine. You want me to pick you up or should I meet you there?" I flipped on my lights and turned the windshield wipers on high, squinting past the downpour as I merged onto the interstate. It was impossible to see more than a few feet in front of me.

  "Come by and grab me. We can have a few drinks before we go. I have some news. About the trial."

  "What news?" I asked, desperate for any details, since the media coverage had been spotty.

  "Erica is on her way to New York. She is scheduled to testify on Monday."

  My heart hammered faster than the windshield wipers. "Monday?" I managed to spit out.

  "Yeah. My mom is meeting her there." The video footage of Erica from that night played a film noir in my head. How would she feel once she knew the truth? Would it break her or make her stronger? "Hey, are you okay?" Damian asked.

  "I'm going to have to take a raincheck," I said, flipping on my turn signal and flying off the next off-ramp.

  "Why? What's going on?"

  "It may be the biggest mistake of my life and she may not want me there, but I have to go."

  The silence was deafening. I waited for Damian to talk me out of it. To tell me that I needed to leave his sister alone. If he had, I might have considered it, but his next words strengthened my resolve.

  "Good luck, man. You're going to need it."

  "Please let the record reflect that Ms. Wood has identified the defendant, Brent Holdaway."

  Brent's face was devoid of emotion, his eyes downcast when I pointed his direction. I was glad the asshole had the decency not to look at me. Being in the same room with him was bad enough.

  Dan Golder and my agent had accepted a plea deal. The two would spend the rest of their lives in prison. For some reason, Brent had decided to roll the dice and chance acquittal, even though the evidence was airtight.

  The courtroom reminded me of every television drama I had grown up watching. Wrapped in a black cloak, calm plastered on her middle-aged face, the judge presided from her raised bench. A six-person jury sat silent and stoic behind a wood-paneled barrier.

  From behind the prosecutor's table, my mother sat, smiling at me whenever I faltered. It was nice to have her by my side, even though we were still on shaky terms. She had flown in the day before to be with me while I prepared with the prosecutor.

  The defense had suppressed the evidence on the thumb drive, because I had obtained it illegally. But the decrypted files had been enough to secure a warrant. When the police searched Brent's home, they had found incriminating evidence on an external hard drive he had locked in a safe.

  Brent was being charged with attempted involuntary manslaughter, in addition to so many other heinous counts that I couldn't keep them all straight.

  When it came time to play the video for the jury, the prosecutor turned to the judge and gave me a slight nod, just the way we'd practiced. "Your honor, Ms. Wood would like to be excused while the jury views the video."

  I stood up and smoothed my skirt down. The courtroom was silent except for the ticking of the clock on the wall above the judge's head. I looked over at Brent. This time he looked right at me, a snide smile tickling the corner of his lips. Like he had somehow won.

  Asshole.

  "Actually, I would like to stay. If that's okay?" I said.

  The prosecutor glanced over his shoulder, as surprised by my words as I was.

  "Are you sure?" the judge asked. The concern dripping from her voice somehow calmed me and solidified my resolution. It was time to face the demons from my past so that I could move forward with my future.

  "Yes." From the corner of my eye, I saw Brent shift in his chair, but I refused to look at him again. The judge motioned for the bailiff to start the video.

  The first part was as I remembered. Brent stood behind his camera, fiddling with settings. Then he went to the bar and produced a drink. While I sipped the concoction he'd provided to "loosen me up," we exchanged pleasantries. The shoot started and within minutes clumsiness set in. I mumbled something incoherent and then fell forward, slamming onto the ground with a dull thud.

  My eyes rolled into the back of my head and Brent called out to Dan and my agent, who sauntered into view. The three carried me to the couch and started arguing. I was completely incapacitated.

  Helpless.

  The three monsters argued over whether or not to call 911. Tears leaked from my eyes and I moaned Dante's name, before slipping further into unconsciousness.

  Nothing from the footage impacted me more than my invocation of Dante's name. At that moment when I was at my most vulnerable, I had called out to the man I loved. It rocked me to my foundation, and I had to shove my hands under my legs to stop them from shaking.

  Tears welled in my eyes, but I refused to allow Brent the satisfaction of seeing me cry. My tears weren't for him. They were for the love I had allowed to slip through my fingers, like the grains of sand on the beach in Maui.

  When I grew lifeless, the three men panicked. Brent rolled me to my side and shoved his finger down my throat until I purged my stomach's contents all over myself and the concrete floors. Several jurors gasped, but I sat motionless, with glazed eyes peeled to the screen. The video had been shortened so that only the key moments played. By the end, I was naked on the couch while Brent paced in the background.

  The courtroom was eerily quiet. The same thoughts played on repeat in my head.

  I almost died.

  They didn't touch me.

  I almost died.

  They didn't touch me.

  "Ms. Wood, are you okay?" the judge asked, jarring me back to the present.

  "Oh, uh, yes. Sorry..."

  "Do you need to take a break?"

  "No. No. I'd like to finish. Please."

  The next hour of testimony went by in a whirl as I tried to wrap my mind around everything.

  I had been a fool. I had let fear and shame poison the truth. I'd wasted more than a year of my life on a foundation of lies built by a man who had played me in more ways than one. I felt unbelievably stupid and embarrassed all over again. But blessed relief overpowered even the humiliation.

  I had almost died, but they hadn't laid a hand on me.

  My mom wrapped her arm around my shoulders, bolstering me as we exited the building. The trial had received national media attention and reporters swarmed when I descended the steps of the courthouse.

  "Erica, are you glad you came forward?"

  "Do you remember anything that happened that night?"

  "Do you think your testimony will be enough to put your attacker away?"

  My mom and the prosecutors did their best to shield me from their inquisition. I was so shocked by everything that had transpired in the courtroom that it wasn't even necessary. I barely registered the questions.

  When the taxi pulled up to the Ritz Carlton, my mom held out a few bills while I climbed out. I was exhausted from the day, even though my testimony had only lasted a few hours. We were discussing options for our dinner with Jake when she pulled me to a stop.

  "Darling, look who's here," she whispered.

  I glanced towards the entrance, where men with stout black hats held the doors open. Dante stepped out, dressed in his typical fashion of jeans and a t-shirt. I almost ran into his arms.

  "I know he hurt you, but hear him out," my mom said. After a quick hello, she squeezed his arm and walked past him.

  "What are you doing here?" I asked, silently cursing the tremor in my voice. I almost reached out to him because I thought I might be dreaming.

  "Walk with me?" he asked, gesturing towards Central Park.

  It was a beautiful day, ripe with summer heat and the subtle stench so characteristic of New York City. We fell in line beside one another, the cacophony of horns muffled by the pounding of blood in my ears. Once we reached the entrance to th
e park, we walked along the wide paths, watching kids play, and sweaty joggers with panting dogs pass. I strolled beside Dante until I couldn't take the silence any longer.

  "Why didn't you tell me?"

  He stopped and faced me, pushing his sunglasses on top of his head, remorse laced in his dark eyes. "You told me to shut up. I was trying to respect your wishes. For once."

  "And you picked that exact moment to do as I asked?"

  His sheepish smile lifted my lips. "I wanted you to come to the same conclusion that I had. On your own. You weren't responsible for what happened to you. Your innocence was not some bad-luck charm."

  I sat down on a nearby bench, because I wasn't sure my legs would support me much longer. Dante settled next to me and we watched two guys throw a football back and forth while I tried to gather my composure.

  It was unbearable being so close. My fingers ached with the desire to touch him. The muggy afternoon heat combined with his proximity was overwhelming and I undid the top button of my blouse.

  "I saw the article you wrote."

  He leaned forward, resting his elbows on his muscular thighs, hope brimming in his eyes. "And?"

  "It was very nice," I said, pressing away the unruly tears that welled in the corners of my eyes.

  "Ah, babe, don't cry."

  "I'm sorry," I said, sucking back a sob.

  "What's wrong?" Dante asked.

  "I've been such a coward."

  He tucked me tight against his body, shushing me and rubbing my arm as another sob broke free. "You're not a coward. Do you know how much courage it took to steal that thumb drive?"

  "My best friend got beat up because of me. I couldn't even be honest with you or my brother. I let that man control me," I said, regret choking my voice.

  "Those three assholes would still be violating women if it weren't for you."

  "I'm no hero."

  "No, you're not. You're something even better. You're a survivor."

  Brushing my tears away, I rested my head against his shoulder, allowing the rise and fall of his chest to comfort me, if only for a few minutes.

  "Why did you come here, Dante?"

  "Because I've lost my best friend."

  I lifted my head from his shoulder. "That's not true. Damian will always be your best friend."

  "I'm not talking about your brother."

  "Oh," I said, too stunned to say more. I felt the same way. Like a piece of my skin had been ripped off and nothing could soothe it, no matter how many ointments I tried. Staying busy helped, but when I was home alone, late at night, it chafed a hundred times worse than a rope burn.

  "I know I fucked up. Don't throw away everything that we had, because of one mistake."

  More than anything, I wanted to tell him that it was okay, that I could forgive him. But how many times could I allow him to break my heart until the damage would be irreparable?

  "It wasn't one mistake. It was a lifetime of them," I said, pushing out of Dante's arms. I rose on unsteady legs. He grabbed my wrist before I could walk away.

  "Babe, give me another chance to show you how good it can be between us."

  Using my words from all those years ago sent a pang of nostalgia rushing through me. I wanted to give in. I wanted to say yes. But I had too much to lose.

  "I wish I could."

  ***

  "Are you sure you aren't hungry?" my mom asked. "I can grab you whatever you want."

  She stood next to Jake, by the door to my suite, her eyes narrowed in concern. I snuggled further into the couch content to wallow in my self-imposed misery. My walk with Dante had left me reeling.

  Jake and my mom had been trying to distract me for hours, but nothing could erase the image of Dante on that park bench, shoulders slumped. I had been trying to convince myself that I had done the right thing, but with each passing second, I felt more and more like a fool.

  "You need to eat," Jake said, echoing my mom's words.

  "No, really, I'm fine. I just need some time alone," I said, hoping they would get the hint.

  "If you change your mind, call us," my mom said. She strolled over and kissed me on the forehead. "Dante is staying here, at the hotel," she whispered conspiratorially. "Room 645."

  I glanced up, unable to stop the thrill of excitement from running down my spine. "How do you know that?"

  "A little monetary persuasion," she said with a mischievous smile, before slipping out the door with Jake.

  My mom's parting words flustered me more than I wanted to admit. Dante was just an elevator ride away. But I couldn't go to him now, not after the way I'd left things. Right?

  I shut all the blinds, blocking out the last rays of sunlight and the spectacular view of Central Park that taunted me through every pane. I sipped wine and scrolled through the channels, barely paying attention, until haunting music filled the room. My fingers stilled on the remote. In the middle of a darkened forest, two lovers stood hand in hand, moonlight filtering through the trees.

  I set my glass down and turned the volume up. Tears formed in my eyes as I watched the epic scene from Lord of the Rings when Arwen told Aragorn that she would forsake her immortality for one lifetime with him. I had never been one for sappy love scenes, but I listened with rapt attention, tears pricking my eyes.

  I started to cry, the words from the movie drowned out by the messiness of my emotions. Fear had held me hostage. I had allowed it to feed my embarrassment and breed shame. And now fear was holding me back from forgiving the one man who had proven he would be there to catch me. No matter how many times I fell.

  Was I ready to chase something with a man who had burned me more times than I could count? As I sat there all alone, the answer became clear. It didn't matter how many times Dante broke my heart, as long as he was always there to pick up the pieces.

  Drop by drop, my tears washed away the shame and the hurt, leaving behind a clean slate. Maybe Dante and I could write a new story. One with the happy ending we both deserved.

  I ran to the bathroom and dragged a brush through my hair. My makeup was a mess, but I didn't care. I rushed to the door, hoping I wasn't too late. When I swung the door open, I jumped in surprise because Dante stood outside, his hand raised and ready to knock.

  "I don't know how, but there has to be a way to fix this," he said, dropping his arm to his side.

  My mouth fell open, and my heart expanded in my chest. "You came for me," I said, awe creeping into my voice.

  "Babe, I will always come for you."

  "Dante, I-, I-"

  "Tell me you don't love me," he interrupted. "And I'll leave. I won't bother you anymore. I won't lie awake at night hoping you might forgive me. I'll move on. But you have to tell me the truth. Right here. Right now."

  "I called out to you," I said, my voice husky and full of emotion.

  "What?" he asked, stepping closer.

  "I called out your name after Brent drugged me. Even then, I knew the truth. I've been such a hypocrite, Dante. I've wasted so much time. I let pride and shame get in the way of telling you the only truth I've known my entire adult life." I paused and took a deep breath, gripping his waist to stop my hands from shaking. "I love you."

  "Oh, thank Christ," he said, the words slipping out on an exhale. He ran a finger along my cheek, his eyes boring a hole through my own. "Say it again," he demanded.

  "I love you," I whispered, reverently.

  "I love you, too."

  We stared at each other, our lips so close I couldn't resist a taste. We met halfway, our kiss confirming our words.

  "Janice and Damian are going to be back any minute," Erica protested, pressing her hands against my chest.

  "Then we better hurry," I said, laying her across the wood coffee table in the cabin. Janice and Damian had gone down to the beach with the baby. I intended on using our time alone to my advantage. Unlike nine years ago, Damian and I had rented a much larger cabin on the south side of Lake Champlain near Colchester, but I had no intention of
wasting time navigating to our bedroom.

  I turned Erica's breathless giggle into a moan when I settled over her. The soft press of my tongue against her neck brought shivers to the surface.

  I moved down her body, forcing aside her tank top to feast on her breasts that were already swollen and begging for my touch. The rosy tips hardened under my tongue, the sunlight streaming in through the picture windows illuminating the glossy trail I left across her body.

  I ripped her tiny shorts down.

  "Dante, wait. I'm going to break the coffee table," she said, scrambling to her elbows.

  "I'm going to lick you until you come all over my tongue. I don't give a fuck if we break the coffee table."

  Her eyes widened, and she dragged in a ragged breath. I loved the effect my dirty words had on her. She opened her mouth to argue, but I dipped forward silencing her with my tongue.

  "Dante," she said with a moan, her whimpers of pleasure feeding my desire. "I'm going to come."

  It didn't take long. Soon her body was climbing over the edge, plummeting down the other side with such intensity, I thought she might actually break the table. I sat back on my haunches watching her ride the cadence of her orgasm.

  I forced my pants down around my knees and lined up against her slick entrance. I swiveled my hips, penetrating her with a forceful thrust. Her head fell back, and she arched off the table. Riding her bare was incredible, like dipping into heaven. But it wasn't just the physical sensations that had me on the verge of coming in seconds. It was the way she watched me, adoration and love clear in her half-closed eyes.

  Somehow, I reined in my arousal, allowing myself to grow accustomed to her blistering heat.

  I pulled out and thrust back in, our tempo building faster and faster until we were both moaning so loudly I worried Damian and Janice might overhear. Sweat trickled down my chest and between my shoulder blades, dampening my shirt, but I didn't care. All I could focus on was the glimmer in Erica's eyes and the agonizingly sweet release barreling to the surface.

  "Harder," she begged, grabbing onto my ass and forcing me deeper.