When I rounded what must be the fifteenth corner I was grateful that it’d become clear Dexter was walking to his secret destination – because God knows what I’d have done if he’d jumped in a taxi… probably gone back to the hotel and cried like an idiot. I felt a light drizzle dampening the roots of my hair and when I looked up I saw Dexter pulling the hood of his tan leather jacket up over his head. Unfortunately I was too preoccupied being Crazy Jealous Stalker Girl to remember to bring a jacket - I wasn’t even wearing long sleeves - so I saw some serious drenching in my foreseeable future.
I wasn’t wrong. By the time Dexter slowed to a halt outside a small house with a little white porch and a tiny square of overgrown grass, nestled in a long row of similar little houses, I was soaked straight through to my knickers. I waited on the other side of the street, a couple of houses down, while I watched him. He appeared to try the handle at first but after giving it a few tugs and realising it was locked, he rapped his knuckles against the splintered wood instead.
Shortly after, the door peeled open and a woman opened her arms wide for Dexter to fall into – which he did. Willingly. Eagerly. It was in that moment I couldn’t feel my heart beating anymore. It was too dark to see what she looked like, especially from this far away, but I knew it was a woman because her hair fell in waves past her shoulders and she was wearing a long, flowing skirt. Also, Dexter wouldn’t hug a man like that…
I felt my lip begin to wobble and I wiped the wet off my face with my hands, though I couldn’t tell if I was ridding my cheeks of tears or rainwater. Standing there in the freezing rain I felt alone, scared, and ridiculously naïve. It was almost pitch black now. I had no idea where I was or what I was going to do next (seems I forgot to plan that part) and all I wanted was for Dexter to take his arms off that woman and come and put them around me.
When the door closed behind them I was all on my own – literally. I was lost in a humongous country I’d never been to before and I couldn’t text or call anyone for help because all but one of my contacts were thousands of miles away. For a moment I imagined how this conversation with Rachel would go if I could’ve actually phoned her to come and fetch me. There was no doubt she would tell me to go and knock hell of the door I couldn’t stop staring at before doing the same to the woman who answered it. No doubt then she’d advise me to go and sleep with someone else to get over it…
Seconds later, after gathering my hair into a bunch and wringing out the excess water, I found myself walking slowly across the road. I was heading for that door. But of course I wasn’t planning to beat it down or even play fisticuffs with the woman slobbering all over my boyfriend – I would never be plucky enough to do that no matter how much I wanted to. No, all I planned to do was ask to speak to Dexter and get him to point me in the right direction back to the hotel. I wouldn’t argue with him, or make him feel guilty, or do anything which would cause a scene. I just wanted to go to bed and lie awake until it was time to arrange a flight home in the morning.
I had to fight hard not to be sick when I tapped lightly on the brown door. Then I think I actually had to swallow a lump of it back down when the door started to creak open. Too soon I was face to face with a woman who had to have been in her early forties at least. She had long mousy-brown hair with a few dashes of grey streaked around her face and was wearing a tie-dye vest-top and skirt ensemble that looked like it’d been stolen from the sixties.
The woman smiled warmly at me as she patiently waited for my explanation as to why I was standing on her porch. Confusion rendered me speechless however. This was either a different woman or I had made a terrible mistake. I know Dexter has been known to ‘enjoy a riper fruit or two’ according to Jared but this woman looked too old. And too… sweet. But hey, what do I know? I’m not a horny twenty-four year old man-whore with the standards of a threadworm.
“Can I help you?” she asked when it became obvious I was mentally incompetent.
“Is…um…Dexter here?” I stammered nervously. Her mouth dropped open ever so slightly and she stared at me with what looked like recognition in her warm, caramel eyes.
“Emily?” Okay so now I really was speechless. Nodding slowly, I felt my eyebrows knit together in bewilderment.
“Oh my God I’m so pleased to finally meet you!” she squealed before throwing her skinny arms around me like she did Dexter and squeezing me so tightly I struggled to breath as I just stood there paralysed with a thousand different thoughts and emotions. “Dear God you’re freezing,” she fussed, releasing me from her grasp and rubbing her hands over my forearms as she guided me inside.
As you know I’m not one for swearing, but what the actual fuck was going on here?
“What are you doing here? Does Dexter know you’re here? He’ll be so happy to see you.” I tried to squeeze in a response but she wouldn’t stop talking. “Would you like a drink? Of course you’d like a drink - you’re freezing. You need something warm. Coffee? Hot cocoa? Milk? And I must find you something to change into, you’ll catch your death in those clothes.”
“Um… where is he? Dexter?” I eventually got the opportunity to ask.
“Oh of course. Listen to me going on with myself. He’s upstairs with his mom.”
His mum?
His dead mum?
“His mum?”
“Yes,” she said solemnly – heartbreak dripping from her voice. “They think it’ll only be a few days now. Go on up. I’m sure Dex really needs you right now. Second door on the right.”
“I…um… thank you.” I nodded weakly and turned towards the stairs. My heart hammered against the walls of my aching chest as I tentatively made my way up each stair, growing one step closer to God knows what. Dexter told me his mum was dead. I remember the conversation so vividly. ‘My parents are dead’ he said. Why would he lie about something like that? As I paused for air which I couldn’t seem to get enough of outside the second door on the right, I didn’t know whether to be angry, concerned or utterly distraught by what might be waiting for me on the other side.
Anxiously, I pushed the door open just a touch and peered through the small gap. A tiny woman with ashen skin and dark-blonde hair scattered in disarray across the pillows was tucked under the blankets of the double bed. Her eyes were open but they seemed unfocused, staring unseeingly at a blank spot on the opposite wall. Dexter was propped up against the headboard next to her on the bed. He was staring at her with the most desolate expression distorting his beautiful face. I pressed my hand against the door, ready to open it fully… but then stopped when the most magical sound ever to grace my ears emerged from Dexter’s throat.
He was singing to her.
Golden slumbers kiss your eyes,
Smiles await you when you rise.
Sleep,
Pretty baby,
Do not cry,
And I will sing a lullaby.
Cares you know not,
Therefore sleep,
While over you a watch I'll keep.
Sleep,
Pretty darling,
Do not cry,
And I will sing a lullaby
I didn’t realise I was crying until I startled myself by snorting back the tears clogging my throat. Dexter’s eyes immediately darted in my direction and he dived from the bed, landing in front of me so fast it was like he held supernatural powers.
“What are you doing here?” he growled. “You shouldn’t be here.”
I parted my lips to speak but all that came out was a croak. He was angry with me. If it wasn’t clear by his tone then it was made perfectly apparent the tension in his rigid body and the veins bulging in his neck. The frail woman was mumbling loudly in the background but whatever she was trying to express was unintelligible.
“I’ve gotta get outta here,” Dexter seethed, barging past me and heading straight for the stairs.
“Dexter wait!” I called after him, unsuccessfully trying to grab hold of his arm as he passed. “Dexter please! I’m sorry!” For w
hat, I didn’t know.
“Emily?” the overly-friendly woman asked in a hurry as she appeared at the bottom of the stairs, sounding as confused as I felt when Dexter bolted from the house. “She’s not…” she added quietly – her hand hovering over her mouth while she waited for me to tell her the lady upstairs was dead.
“No no,” I flapped. “She’s…” I didn’t know what she was. I didn’t know who she was or what was wrong with her. “She’s okay,” I answered ambiguously as I made my way down the stairs in a daze. “I-I…I don’t know what happened. I don’t know what I’ve done wrong.” I stared down at my fingers winding themselves together so harshly my knuckles turned white. It wasn’t until a set of warm hands overlapped mine I noticed Mrs Friendly was so near.
“Emily,” she said my name cautiously. “What do you know about Dexter and his mom?”
“He told me his parents were dead. I-I don’t understand any of this,” I admitted, still staring down at my hands. “I didn’t think he had any family.”
“Oh, Dexter,” she mumbled under her breath while rolling her eyes. Sighing deeply, she tightened her grip around my hand and started pulling me towards another room.
“Come on, honey. I think we need to talk.”
Chapter Twenty-Five
Dexter
No. No. No.
It wasn’t supposed to happen this way. Fuck, it was never supposed to happen at all. I was never supposed to let anyone get this close. I was never supposed to let someone love me just so I could ruin them when they discover what a monster I am.
I’ve lost her. This was it. This was where Emily would discover what I’d done and she would run away from me as fast as her short legs would carry her. She probably knew by now. Aunt Sarah probably filled her in the second I left the house. Maybe she was already gone. Maybe if I went back to the house right now there would be no sign of her. She was probably already booking her flight home.
As I ran I started to wonder what the fuck she was even doing there? How did she find me? Had Aunt Sarah gotten hold of her somehow? I don’t suppose it matters. All that mattered now was that I’d lost her, and I was so fucking angry with myself for ever believing I deserved her.
I found myself in a bar before I even knew where I was heading. Didn’t even hesitate to walk in and order myself a straight Jack. What was the fucking point in trying anymore? I was losing everything. Everyone I loved was going to be gone soon. Well, I guess Aunt Sarah would still be around but let’s face it even she must have a limit. I took her sister away from her… her fiancé… her life. Without my mom here giving her a reason to get up every morning, there’s only so much of my shit she’s gonna be able to deal with before she fucks off too.
Slamming my empty glass on the glossy black surface, I ordered another. Like the first I downed it in one, wincing as the harsh liquid burned the back of my throat. I needed more. I could still think straight. So I got another.
Five shots in and I welcomed the blissful numbness seeping into my brain. A girl with more makeup than clothes approached me as I poured the sixth eagerly into my mouth, but one sharp glare in her direction soon sent her packing. Then, inappropriately, I heard myself laughing. You see, when I turned that girl away I realised I’d had sex for the last time in my life. Emily was gone, but even so I just knew I’d never be able to fuck anyone else. I might have betrayed her in the most catastrophic of ways but I would never cheat on her – whether she was mine or not.
See? It’s funny right? That I’m gonna die a lonely old hermit? Fucking hilarious.
“Well, well, well…” I turned my head at the familiar voice and saw a figure from the past I’d tried so hard to forget standing before me. “Long time no see, Michaels.” It was Jaxon – an old… friend of mine. By friend, I mean one of my best snorting buddies.
“Jax,” I acknowledged with a curt nod.
“You back here for your mom?” he asked. He probably knew the deal with her. He only lives a minute’s walk away from my mom and Aunt Sarah and word gets around. I nodded again. “Real sorry about that, man. She was a great woman back in the day ‘n’ all.”
“She still is,” I hissed. “She’s not dead yet.”
“Sure, sure. Sorry, man,” he mumbled, looking away from me. “So, you wanna, um…” Jaxon removed his wallet from his back pocket and nodded his head towards the tip of the small transparent baggie poking out between the bills. “For old time’s sake?”
Fuck me, I’d never wanted to say yes to anything as badly in my life. The alcohol was doing its job – freeing me… removing my inhibitions. And so I knew it that moment there was only one thing that could make me feel even better…
“Nah,” I said rather unconvincingly. “I don’t do that shit anymore.” But boy did I want to…
“Fair enough,” he agreed. “Another drink then?”
“Sounds good to me. Same again.”
And so I spent the rest of the night I prayed would never happen, drinking myself into a pit of unresponsiveness. By the end of it… the excruciating pain detonating inside my chest, was just a dull, throbbing ache.
I’ve lost her.
I’ve lost both of them.
Chapter Twenty-Six
Emily
It turned out the overly familiar woman was Dexter’s Aunt - Sarah. I remember Dexter mentioning her once. She was his saviour – the person who got him the help he so desperately needed at the lowest point of his life. I loved her already.
After closing the door Dexter had left open she led me through to the small but homely living room and pointed towards the plum couch for me to sit. I smiled nervously and took a seat, and then she disappeared to make hot-chocolate’s while I tapped my foot impatiently against the cream carpet.
I had an awful heavy feeling in the pit of my stomach – like the one you get when you’re hovering at the very top of a rollercoaster just before you plummet downwards. I’ve known for a while Dexter had secrets – secrets that he promised to tell me one day. But going off the spectacular ache in my heart right now, I just knew whatever it was would turn out to be so much worse than I ever could’ve expected.
Whatever it was, I was almost certain it was bad enough to lose him. The look of revulsion almost blackening his denim-blue eyes when he saw me earlier will haunt me for the rest of my life. He didn’t want me here. What if… he didn’t want me, period?
Sarah returned after what seemed like an hour (though I knew in reality it was only minutes) with what looked like a man’s t-shirt draped over her forearm.
“Here,” she said, passing me the shirt. “Change into this. It’s from the stuff Dexter left behind,” she clarified. So he used to live here? Did I know anything about him at all?
Sarah left the room again to fetch the drinks so I wrestled out of my wet top while she was gone and then slipped Dexter’s over my head. I let it linger over my face a little longer than needed before tugging it down. It still smelt like him and with all the overpowering emotions battling away inside my freezing body right now, the scent of him calmed me.
It also made me want to cry.
“I’ll pop it down here. It’s a little hot right now,” Sarah said when she re-entered the room, carefully placing two steaming mugs of cocoa on the marble coffee table.
“Thank you,” is what I replied. What I was thinking however, was ‘get the hell on with it’.
“He said he’d told you,” she began vaguely. “He should’ve told you. I can tell just looking at you that you won’t give up on him. But that’s what he’s afraid of – losing you. So you mustn’t be angry with him for the way he reacted just now. He’s a good boy. He’s just… scarred.”
Holy hell this was ripping me to pieces already. I knew in that moment he would never lose me. If he wanted me, I was his.
“Do you know anything about the problems Dexter’s had in the past? He said he’d told you… but now I’m not sure.”
“If you mean his struggles with addiction then yes, he’
s told me,” I answered timidly - both eager to hear and afraid of whatever she had to say next.
“Then I suppose all you don’t know is what led him down that path in the first place,” she stated solemnly. An awkward pause followed while Sarah dragged in a deep breath. All I could do was wait patiently, trying my very hardest not to cry. “Dexter’s father is a horrible man…”
Is?
“So he’s alive too?” I interrupted.
“As far as I know. But I’m sure I’m not the only one who wishes he wasn’t.” I almost retched as I swallowed back a stinging lump of bile rising swiftly up my throat. His dad is ‘bad’. They wish he were dead. Had Dexter been… abused?
Oh please, God, no…
“That man beat on my sister since the day he walked her up the aisle. I didn’t know for years – she hid it so well. I always suspected she was unhappy. She just… didn’t seem to smile anymore. Plus something about Martin always made me feel uneasy but I couldn’t quite tell what it was. I told her to leave him more than once – assuming he was just a lousy husband who didn’t pay her enough attention.
“But it was only when I caught her changing upstairs one day I saw the horrific state of her body. Swellings, bruises, scars…” Sarah winced at the memory but all I could think about was holding Dexter. Where had he gone? Please come back… “Dexter had been witnessing this his entire life but was too scared to tell anyone. That bastard made damn sure he was too scared to tell anyone.” The happy expression I was first greeted with earlier tonight had morphed into utter disgust. If this twisted father of Dexter’s were to walk in the room right now, I’m pretty sure the look on Sarah’s face would be enough to kill him.
Take My Hand Page 22
