“That’s what Betty’s here for.”
“Hmm,” she muttered, as if the idea displeased her.
The fact that it displeased her kind of displeased me too. “You wash, and I’ll dry?”
“Really?” I nodded in response to her silent question. Could I stand for that long? “Deal.”
“I love making deals with you.” The words were out before my brain could stop my pussy heart from spilling its guts.
“I’d like to make another.”
Her eyes were too wide, too innocent. What was she up to? “What …?”
She looked down and then she looked right back up, demanding everything I have, had, and would obtain. “Can I sleep with you tonight?”
“Let’s go wash the dishes.” Fucking girl had no idea what she was doing to me. The worst part might’ve been the fact that she wasn’t trying. She was just being herself. Her temptingly good I want your bad, Dylan self.
“We’re sleeping together,” she snapped, grabbing dishes. A knife fell and clattered on the wooden table, seeming to piss her off more. “You’re going to hold me and save me, and you’re going to do it because that’s what I want. Stop. Telling. Me. No.” Her eyes darkened with her threat. “You are not the only person in this messed up relationship. I have a say too.”
Her full ass bounced as she stomped. I watched her go, focusing on the way her thighs touched, wanting those thighs around my head, squeezing me as I took her clit into my mouth and owned her pussy. Her outburst was part adorable and part aggravating. It meant she wasn’t going to do this the way I wanted it done. It meant she wasn’t going to let me get in the way of what she wanted. It meant I wanted to bend her over that expensive kitchen counter and lose myself in her tightness.
I struggled to my feet and joined her at the sink. Together we took care of the mess. We didn’t speak as she’d pass me a plate to dry. She did, however, let me lean against her and the counter. Her hands washed with controlled efficiency, as if she were used to washing dishes.
“You do the cleaning at home?”
“Mom works a lot. I like to help any way I can.”
I took the plate in her hand and dried it, wondering if she ever did anything for herself. Her mother seemed to be a large part of her life. “What do you do when you’re not being the perfect daughter?”
She smiled sadly at the soap. “Stuff.”
“Like?”
“You won’t relate. I’m sure you had much more fun.”
“Of course, I won’t relate. That’s why I want to hear about it. Tell me about cheer. Specifically, your uniform. Do you still have it?”
Her giggle made me smile. “Yes.”
“Interesting. Sing me a cheer?”
“Not happening.”
“Come on; I’ll start.” I put my fist in the air and shook it. “Hillary is so sweet. S. W.E.E.T.”
She gawked at me, and then she burst into laughter. She clutched the counter, laughing so hard I couldn’t help joining in.
“You would not have made the squad.”
“Yeah right,” I huffed, pushing my hair back with a flourish. “I would have so been captain.”
Her giggles were light in my darkness.
“At best you would have been the water boy.”
“I have been known to make girls thirsty.” I winked, chuckling at her eye roll.
“Someone wanted to say goodnight.”
We both looked over to find Aubrey in Whitney’s arms. She was dressed in dark pink footie pajamas, and her hair was combed back, damp from her bath. She smiled with her new teeth, arms outstretched for me.
I leaned heavily against Hillary as I took Aubrey in my arms. I hugged her to me, squeezing her too hard. “Daddy loves you. You know that right?” Please know that.
She nodded, her grip just as strong. “I waited a long time to see you.”
“I know. That won’t happen again, I promise. Daddy’s going to get better and do what he has to do to see you every day.”
She nodded again, neither of us letting the other go. “Mommy says you have a boo-boo, and you’re sad. Are you sad because of me?” She pulled back, eyes teeming.
My heart, this cold, broken thing, cracked and shattered. I wanted to fade into my rot, but that would only hurt my daughter further. For the first time in my life I braved who I was, stood in the middle of the storm as it pelted me. After it had passed, I was drenched and bruised, but I was standing. And I think maybe deep down that was all that mattered. “Of course not. You’re the only person in my life who makes me smile. Mommy’s right. I’m hurt, and I don’t feel happy these days, but that has nothing to do with you. Why would you ask that?”
She sniffed, reaching out to play with my earlobe. I got the impression she was too sad to look at me anymore. “Ben was teasing me and said that my daddy didn’t love me. That’s why he doesn’t come over.”
Behind me, Whitney sighed. Beside me Hillary wrapped her arms around my waist and rested her head on my arm, looking at my daughter like she knew exactly how she felt. I reminded myself to have a talk with Froy. Kids were kids, but that didn’t mean his boys had to do this to my baby.
I cleared my throat before I broke. “I love you more than I love anyone, Aubrey. I love you more than I love myself. You’re all I can think about. But sometimes adults have to feel better before they can be better. I’m going to get better, okay? I’m going to get better and take care of you and be here every day. You know why I’m going to do that?”
She released my earlobe and met my eyes, wanting so much to forget the mean words Ben said. “Because you love me?”
“Because I love you. Do not doubt that. Ever.”
“I love you too.” She smiled suddenly, resting her head on my other shoulder. “Can you tuck me in?”
“Of course.”
“Dylan,” Whitney mumbled.
“They’re just stairs.” Two floors of them. “Let’s go.” I handed Aubrey to Whitney and looked down at Hill, who was clearly just as worried. “I’ll meet you in the guesthouse?”
When they got a few feet ahead, she reached up on her tiptoes and kissed my lips. Then she wrapped her arms around my waist and squeezed me hard. “I’ll help you get better.”
I kissed her hair. “You shouldn’t worry about me. Worry about getting you better.”
“Shut up,” she mumbled, pressing her lips to my chest through my shirt. “You’re so much better than you think.” And with that she released me and stepped away, grabbing the towel to dry her hands.
When I got to the stairs, I looked up at all of them … so many stairs. Winding, twisting, waiting to push me down.
“Come on, dickhead.” Bach stepped forward. “Leave your crutches here.” He grabbed my upper right arm and supported my weight.
When we got half way, I wanted to give up. The pain was teetering on the edge of too much. I couldn’t breathe, my leg felt swollen, and my heart hammered. But Bach pulled me on, forcing me up the steps, supporting my weight like he’d done since we were kids. I had this sudden urge to do something pussy-like. Hug him, spill my guts, and tell him how sorry I was. Sure, he stole my girl, but he’d also been there to take my shit for it. He didn’t run the way I had.
“I’m sorry,” I whispered, sucking back my sob at the top of the stairs.
He patted my back. “Don’t get emotional yet. We still have to walk all the way down this hall.”
My walls crumbled. I let it all go. I lied. I lost Harley because I was a liar who didn’t like himself. Of course Harley wanted someone who was unapologetically himself. If anything Harley taught me a lesson. Be yourself, even if yourself is a rotten scumbag who can’t stand their insides. Even if you lied your ass off to keep someone. Even if once you told the truth, you were still all those things and still alone. But lies were protective walls that hid the truth, and even the highest ones couldn’t hide it forever. Once it was set free, you became me. A man alone, crawling up the stairs, covered in sweat, too
tired to cry, to crawl, to accept that he’d lost his light. Too drained to admit he wasn’t done trying quite yet.
“Wait.” I leaned against my best friend in the hall. “You’re going to be with her forever, right? You’re not going to fuck this up? Because I’m going to let her go right now, and I have to know that when I do you won’t.”
Bach met my eyes. There was a calm promise in them, the kind I wanted. “Let her go, D. I’ll hold on to Harley for the rest of my life. I’ve got her.”
Harley poured out of my heart. I puked her out of my soul. Because she wasn’t mine anymore. She was Bach’s. She was his. She was never mine because I was never truly myself around her. I was a lie that fell for her truth and because of that, I didn’t deserve her. The weight of her absence was a painful, excruciating brutal thing. I almost fell over, letting that woman go. But when I did I envisioned Hillary’s eyes. Those good, light-green eyes that looked at me like I wasn’t as lost as I thought. The transition was too intense. Too moving. Too hard not to fall one more time. I grabbed at my chest and looked up at the ceiling, hoping for an answer, some help.
What do I do?
How could I move on when I didn’t have what I thought I wanted? I had to wonder if maybe holding on to what I thought I wanted was the problem. I’d spent my whole life having and wanting nothing, and if I did want it, I took it. Harley, the life I painted—was something I wanted for the first time in my life. Letting that go meant letting the first thing I ever wanted go. What if I went my whole life never wanting something that much again? But what truly scared me was the possibility that I might want something more.
When I looked up, Harley was there, Whitney too. Two total opposites, two parts of my past, one gave me the greatest gift and the other made me think I was worth it.
Harley wrapped her arms around my waist and kissed my cheek. “Go put your daughter to sleep.”
Bye, my Harley. My first good thing. I kissed her cheek in return so I could whisper in her ear. “I’ll miss you forever.”
She shook her head. “No, you won’t.” She sounded positive, as if I’d already forgotten her. “You won’t miss me at all.”
I wondered why she thought that.
Why did Harley think I’d moved on?
Why didn’t I disagree?
Bach led me into Aubrey’s bedroom. The moment I entered I couldn’t help laughing. The amount of Frozen memorabilia made me fear this fad. The blue and white made my eyes hurt. She was bundled up in her little bed, surrounded by blue sheets and a nightlight that shone stars on her ceiling.
I sank gratefully down on her bed and moved her hair out of her face. “Sleepy?”
She stared at my face. “Don’t be sad, Daddy.”
I sighed and wiped the rest of my tears with my shirt. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t cry in front of you.”
“Mommy cried in front of me.”
My head snapped up. “Why?”
She played with her Olaf pillow. “She doesn’t know I watched her.”
“Why?” I repeated patiently.
“She was sad. When you got your boo-boo’s, and she got yelled at by the old man and then we when to Uncle Bach’s house, and then she stopped.”
“Old guy?”
“We were at a weird place. It smelled, and there were lots of doors.” She frowned, trying to think of it.
“You were at a hotel?” I guessed.
She nodded. “Mhm. I love Bach, Daddy. He’s like you when you’re not here.”
“Yeah, I love Bach too.” Deep down a part of me roused, awaking at the prospect of letting him back in. “Can I lay with you?”
“Yay! Like a sleepover.”
“Too much Frozen for a sleepover.”
She snorted. “That’s funny. Too much Frozen.” Then she rolled her eyes as if my statement was foolish and shameful.
I rested on my back, keeping my bum leg over the edge. She snuggled against me. “Bach said you were his friend when you were little.”
“That’s true.”
She thought about it, playing with my earlobe again. “Harley has a grandma and a grandpa.”
I understood her question. And it broke my heart to have to break this to her. “My mom and dad were … sad too. Sad people aren’t always nice people. Maybe if they get better, they can meet you, but until then that’s not going to happen.” I wouldn’t lie anymore. Lying hurt the people you loved. Lying ruined far more than it protected. “They made me sad,” I whispered, spilling my guts to my daughter like she’d comfort the little boy who hadn’t been. “I don’t want you to ever be sad. I’m going to get better and make you happy.”
“I happy.” She rubbed my earlobe, almost like it bound us. If she held it, I wouldn’t leave.
I kissed her forehead. “I love you, Frozen girl.”
Her giggle was loud and easy. “Can you read a story?” She pointed to the table beside her bed.
I shifted to examine them, finding a familiar copy of Dr. Seuss’s Green Eggs and Ham. “Want to know a secret? I used to sneak and read in the library sometimes when I was little, because I,” I had no money for lunch and was embarrassed by my growling stomach, “wanted to be alone. This one was my favorite.”
“Me too.”
I opened the orange cover, tracing the first words. As I read, I was propelled back to my younger self, hungry, pissed off, and wanting something to make me feel better. I ended up at the library and found this book. It was my secret. Reading when I was hungry, when I was upset, when I wanted someone, anyone, to say they loved me, to feed me, to care about me. When I’d finished, I managed to find a second of peace.
“Again,” she mumbled sleepily.
“I kind of want some green eggs and ham now.”
“Gross.” Her tired giggle warmed me.
After the fourth read she passed out, sliding from my chest to roll over into a little ball. I bent to kiss her hair. I struggled to stand without waking her. The moment I did get to my left foot Whitney came in, and by the look she gave me I suspected she had been listening.
“Need help?” Her body took my weight. “Let’s go to my room,” she said, when we got in the hall after closing Aubrey’s door.
“Why?” I just wanted to go to the guesthouse and lose myself in Hillary.
“Because you have no idea how hot it was watching you with our daughter.”
I had to laugh. “You want to give me some pussy?”
“You don’t want it?” She gave me a look like don’t bullshit me. “Let’s be honest. All we had was sex, but that was all we needed.”
“Whit.”
It was her turn to laugh. “You’re not bullshitting?” Her face changed and then her smile was wider. “It’s Hillary, isn’t it? Are you caught up on the sweet one too?”
“Caught up,” I grumbled. “Help me downstairs, please?”
“Yes or no?”
“Yes,” I snapped. “Yes, okay? I am. I want her. So take me downstairs so I can have her while she’s here.”
“Great. One more night without any sex. I had no idea becoming a mom would put such a damper on my sex life. And by damper, I mean I haven’t gotten laid since I found out I was pregnant.”
I feel a sudden overwhelming sense of sympathy and self-disgust. That meant she hadn’t slept with anyone since me. Years without losing herself. I didn’t even know the mother of my child, but I knew she ran too. She was sad too. “Whit?”
“What?”
“I’m sorry for ever forcing you to make that choice. You did the right thing when you kept me away. I was in too dark of a mood to be around her. I still am, but I can breathe a little easier lately. You took care of our baby all by yourself while I lied to you, while I went to war—you did the right thing. I shouldn’t have ever forced your hand. And you’re trying too. You gave up your life for her.” I turned to her pale blue eyes. “Thank you for being there when I couldn’t.”
“Oh, Dylan. You don’t have to thank me. Aubrey’s the best
thing that ever happened to me. To us. I’d do anything for her.” She rose and kissed my cheek. “What I have to do is break the news to her.”
“What news?”
She took a deep breath and then smiled timidly. “I got an apartment. On my own with my own money. Woot!” She held her hand up. “Pretty good for a woman who had to take care of herself her whole life, huh?”
I cracked a smile and managed to clap her hand. “Pretty damn good. In Houston?” I guessed.
“Yes. It’s closer to the dealership. I don’t want her getting used to this … lifestyle. It’s appreciated and Nena is so sweet putting us up and helping us, but I won’t ever make this kind of money. We’ll be a normal family in our normal apartment with our normal life. The way I never had.” She smiled proudly. “Now all you need is to move to Houston, and we can be a family. Not living together, of course, since you’re in love with Hillary, but maybe we can co-parent?” And then she winked, like the bad girl I no longer wanted.
I choked on my shock. “I’m not in love with her.”
“Yes, you are. You walked into that kitchen and talked her down when I couldn’t. The look on her face when she saw you was like you were the only thing in the entire world that could save her. That looked like love to me.”
“I. Am. Not. In. Love. With. Her.” My coldness frosted every word.
But Whitney was used to men like me. She rolled her eyes and continued to help me down the stairs, unimpressed by my outburst. “Let me be the one to tell Bach we’re moving out.”
I wasn’t in love.
That was the last word I’d use to describe this.
Love wasn’t on my mind.
It wasn’t.
Was it?
“Dylan? When you have kids with her, make sure Aubrey isn’t jealous of their eyes. I swear, Bach might be the sexiest bastard in the land of sexy bastards.”
I ditched her at the bottom of the stairs, walking as fast as I could out of the house as her laughter chased me. When I got outside, I inhaled deeply, pulling in breaths that weren’t tainted by Whit’s accusations.
This wasn’t love.
It was desperation.
It was wanting something good where there wasn’t any good at all.
Damage Me (Crystal Gulf Book 2) Page 26
