“I missed you a lot, more than I think you understand,” I say. “These five months have been the hardest I’ve ever had and I don’t ever want to repeat them again so can you just please promise me that you won’t get involved in any shady shit again and that you won't get shot again.”Dylan laughs, his eyes light with humor. “Alright, I promise.”
My eyes fall to his right arm. I step forward, pushing up the sleeve of his t-shirt slightly.
“Is that...is that your scar?”
He nods, eyes trained on me as my fingers trace over it. It was obviously stitched up, and it’s quite the wide scar, on the front of his bicep. I lightly touch the smooth scar tissue, my heart in my throat. Reminders of the bullet tearing apart his flesh cloud my mind as I look at the scar.
“Does it hurt?” I whisper, looking back up at him.
“Not anymore,” he answers.
“Did it used to?”
He shrugs as I drop my hand to my side.
I look at all the familiar tattoos on his arms, the ones I’ve traced with my fingers over and over. The lock and key, the small cross on his hand, and—“New tattoo?” I ask, furrowing my brow slightly as I try to decipher the shape in the middle of his left arm.
He turns his arm toward him to get a better look. “Yeah,” he says. “It’s a—”“Katie,” we say together. I smile, reaching out and touching it. It’s bigger than mine, and it’s so artfully done against his soft skin.
“Copy cat,” I say and he laughs, looking down at me as I examine the ink.
“Imitation is the finest form of flattery,” he says and I smirk, looking up at him.
“When did you get it?” I ask.
“March.”
I nod.
“I got it because I love you,” he says so casually I almost want to faint. My cheeks flush and I look away, fighting a smile.
“You can never say you’re shit at romance ever again.”
He laughs and I step back, dropping my hand to my side. He watches me for a few moments before sighing.
“Well, I guess the only thing I can say now is...” He sticks out his hand for me to shake. “Welcome home.”I look from his hand to his face. “You’re joking, right?”
He looks confused, dropping his hand back to his side.
“There is no way in hell I’m settling for a handshake.”
I step forward and engulf him in a hug, almost knocking him over as he responds, laughing and wrapping his arms around my waist. I bury my face into his shoulder, trying not to cry as I breathe in his scent, the fabric of his t-shirt soft against my skin.
I feel his lips press against my hair and pull away, looking up at him.
“By the way, if you think I’ve stopped loving you, then you really are an idiot.”The smile that crosses his face is the biggest I’ve ever seen as he pulls me back toward him, lips lowering to mine in a kiss I’ve been dreaming of since the day I left for London five months ago. His lips taste like spearmint gum like they always have, and I'm so grateful he's such a person of habit. It's obvious these past months have changed us both, but the little things have stayed the same about Dylan, and I'm so glad for that. I almost want to cry all over again.
We pull away too soon and Dylan smiles at me, walking around the kitchen counter to open the fridge.
“Have a seat, Katie. I was just about to make dinner.”
Epilogue
The day is perfect.
Bright rays of sunlight pierce through fluffy white clouds and the air is warm on my skin. Nerves and excitement flutter within me as I stand next to my father, waiting for the ceremony to commence.
Violins begin to play and I watch Abigail, Courtney, Leah, and Sarah walk down the aisle, their dresses pale pink and their flowers light purple. I see my mother and some of my old friends sitting in the rows, along with many of my coworkers.
I can’t see him from here, but I know he’s up there, waiting for me. I suppress as smile as my father looks down at me, pride in his eyes.
“Ready?” He asks, pulling my arm through his.
I nod, smiling. “Ready as I’ll ever be.”
A new tune begins on the violins, and my father and I stand at the beginning of the aisle. Everyone rises as we slowly make our way down the aisle, rose petals strewn on the ground where we walk.
I see the smiles on everyone’s faces, my mother beaming the widest. I look at all of the best men, standing in their black suits. Ethan, Ed, Oliver, George, and William stand with their hands clasped in front of them, looking proud. They all smile and nod to me as my father and I stop at the altar.
My eyes move to Dylan.
He looks like an angel, his pink lips up in a radiant smile. His eyes seem to drink me in as he offers me his hand.
I look at my father, who leans down and kisses my cheek before nodding to Dylan.
"Take care of her," my father says quietly to Dylan.
"I always will."
My father nods to Dylan, giving him a proud slap on the back before going to sit beside my mother.
My fingers lace through Dylan’s as I stand across from him, my heart beating fast. He wears a black tie, just like he knows I’ve always liked.
“You may be seated,” the minister says and everyone sits back in their seats, a hush falling over the room.
I’m too excited and nervous to pay much attention to what the minister says, my eyes not leaving those of Dylan. He smiles back at me, his dimples carving into his flushed cheeks.
“Katie and Dylan, you have prepared vows, I believe.”
I turn to receive the small slip of paper from Courtney when my eye catches on someone standing at the end of the aisle.
Black suit, menacing smirk, dark eyes, scarred face.
Alec winks at me, reaching into his jacket.
My throat is dry and I can’t speak or move, my limbs frozen in place.
He points the silver pistol at the altar, but it is unclear who he is aiming at. I want to scream and do something, anything, but I can’t.
I hear the gun cock and a bang, screams and uproar filling the room.
But when I look at Dylan, he’s looking at me, his eyes wide and urgent, his voice calling out my name. He’s not hurt.
I look down at myself, just in time to see my white wedding dress stain with blood; the red spreading from my abdomen to cover the entire dress, and the pure white turns to deathly crimson.
“Katie!”
I jerk awake, bolting up in bed. I gasp for air, trying to figure out where I am. The familiar surroundings of my room fall into place as the dream still rages in my mind.
Alec shot me this time, not Dylan. What does this mean?
“Katie.”
I feel a gentle touch on my face as tears are wiped from my cheeks and I look over into the wide green eyes of Dylan.
“Bad one tonight, huh?”
I nod, more tears raining down my cheeks. He sighs, pulling me into an embrace and kissing my forehead.
“Which one was it?”
I tell him about the dream, trying to stop my crying as he tucks a piece of my hair behind my ear, brow furrowed.
“Katie,” he says once I’m done, his hand reaching up to stroke my cheek softly. My breathing is still uneven as I try to collect myself.
“I’m going to go get some water,” I tell him and he nods, his eyes still on me as I slip out of bed, taking a breath.
I turn on the light in the kitchen, the clock on the stove reading 1:19 a.m.
The wedding nightmares are always the worst, but they don’t occur as often. This is the first dream I’ve had where Alec shot me instead of Dylan, and it’s unnerving, to say the least.
It’s been two months since I got back to Edinburgh, and Dylan and I have quickly discovered the pattern of our nightmares. Mine are more frequent, happening multiple times a week around one in the morning. Some of them are reoccurring, such as the wedding one, but others are completely new. I always tell Dylan about my nightmares, and he
always tells me his. We’ve concluded that we’re experiencing a form of post traumatic stress disorder, due to the night Dylan got shot. It's obviously not as severe as it could be, but the nightmares aren't pleasant.
Dylan’s nightmares are always worse, though. They happen less often than mine, only occuring once a week or so, but when they do, they’re bad. Dylan is such a controlled person, and when he wakes up in the night yelling, I see his self control slip. It’s scary for me to see him like that. Unlike myself, he always has the same nightmare. He described it to be more of a subconscious flashback, to the night of the party when Oliver and Abigail were pulling me away.
Oddly enough, Dylan and I never have nightmares on the same night. It’s either me or him, but never us both.
His nightmares happen more towards three a.m., and when I wake him up from them, it takes him a good minute to collect himself. Sometimes, when his eyes snap open, it looks like he doesn’t know who I am for a moment before he crumbles into my arms. I hate it when Dylan has nightmares, I hate it.
“You okay?”
Dylan leans against the doorframe to my bedroom, his hair messy and his arms crossed over his chest.
It takes me a second to realize what he’s talking about, and when I look down at the cup I’m trying to fill with water, I see that my hands are shaking. I set the cup down on the counter and take a breath as Dylan walks over, taking the cup and turning on the faucet, still looking at me.
I nod thanks to him as I bring the cup to my lips, the cool water soothing me slightly as it slides down my throat, but not by much.
“That one really shook you up, didn’t it?” Dylan’s voice is sympathetic as I set my now empty cup in the sink.
“I’ve never had one where it was like that,” I say, my voice unsteady. “I don’t know why it was different this time.”I feel his hand touch mine and I reach for it, squeezing it tightly.
“Let’s go back to bed, alright?”
I nod and follow him back to my room, sliding into bed beside him.
He switches on the television and pulls up the DVR as I settle next to him, my head resting on his chest.
“What will it be?” I feel his voice vibrate through his chest as he speaks. “The Office or The Big Bang Theory?”I let out a breath. “You choose.”
“I think we both know what I’ll choose.”
I laugh lightly and he does too, selecting an episode of the Office. I try to push images of my dream from my thoughts, but the red wedding dress seems to be branded in my mind.
“What do you think it meant?” I whisper as the characters move across the screen.
“I don’t know,” he says honestly. “What does any of it mean?”
“I wish it’d go away.”
“I know. I do too.”
I run my fingers down his arm until I find his tattoo of the rose, my digits moving over it gently.
“Do you think...it could be like the dreams I had before the party, that kind of came true?” I ask.
“What do you mean?”
“What if something happens, were we to ever get married?”
“Alec is in jail, and Lyone Enterprises no longer exists.” Dylan moves me so he can look into my eyes. “And who said anything about getting married?” A smirk crosses his face.
I blush. “It was in my dream, I don’t know. Do you think we’ll ever get married?”
Dylan laughs, his hand reaching up to play with my hair. “At least take me out to dinner first.”“I’ve taken you out to dinner plenty, excuse you.”
We’re both laughing now as he hooks an arm around my waist and pulls me back to him, my face nuzzling into his neck. He smells like sleep and spearmint, my all time favorite combination.
“I do think we’d have a sick wedding, though.”
I let out a laugh onto his skin. “How do you figure?”
“We’d have a chocolate fountain. We win.”
“But those can be so messy.”
“Are you honestly debating with me about a chocolate fountain? Have you gone mental?”
It’s so comforting that Dylan always manages to lighten the mood after I have nightmares. I love him for that.
“If you feel so strongly, I guess we can have a chocolate fountain,” I sigh humorously.
“You sound so reluctant, Katherine.”
I laugh.
“I don’t know if I can be with someone who isn't completely obsessed with chocolate fountains. I think we’ve got to break up, Katie.” I let out a laugh, and so does he.
“But I know where you keep your Snickers.”
“Point taken. Alright, let’s get back together.”
I laugh as he leans down to kiss me, a smile already present on his lips.
“I love you,” he says against my lips, still smiling as he looks into my eyes.
“And I love you,” I reply, pushing a stray curl out of his eyes.
Dylan and I watch TV for another half hour before going back to sleep, the sound of Dylan’s steady breathing calming me. Remnants of my nightmare threaten to spill back into my mind, but I focus on the sound of our breathing together.
I think of all that’s happened since I met Dylan almost one year ago. I’ve felt so many feelings and emotions that I never had before, and felt pain that I didn’t know was possible. I’ve changed so much, all because I moved into the apartment of the girl Dylan previously loved.
I’ve come to realize that my fear of being alone is only present without Dylan. I’m not afraid of being alone, I’m just afraid of what I am without him. I met that version of myself in the five months without him, and I don’t like that person at all. I hope I never have to meet that lonely, muted person again.
I know that version of myself will always live inside of me, though. Almost like a demon on my shoulder, a devil in my conscious.
But now, I look over at Dylan, who is sound asleep. He has an arm draped around me, his face relaxed and his breathing steady.
And I feel myself relax, my mind resting from its furious thinking.
I do not know what will happen from here. I can hope our lives will run smoothly, our future free from the danger we experienced this past year. I don’t know what will happen when Alec gets out of jail, if he ever does. I don’t know if we’ll never be in danger again, but I do know one thing for sure.
As long as I have Dylan, I will never feel alone again.
I trace my fingers over the outline of his pink lips and his eyes blink open, causing me to draw back.
“Sorry, I didn’t mean to wake you,” I whisper.
“It’s alright. Are you okay?”
“Yeah. Just can’t sleep.”
“Oh.”
He Looked Back Page 55
