It took a while for us to make it. We paused to take breaks and held each other, but we left Tyler and the prison behind together.
And when we crawled into Bach’s truck, I met his eyes and nodded once, showing him that our father was gone for good.
We were better because of that.
We would win because Tyler had tried to beat us.
We would survive.
Chapter Eleven
Dylan
When Bach drove away from that prison, I felt something shift.
It was in the air. It rushed over me and left me breathless. It was silent in the truck, but that silence fed on the shift. I felt the boys Bach and I had been leaving us for good. The boys who had fought to find a place in this world were finally at peace because the men we were now made it that way. We won. Our parents gave us no chance, yet we made it, still. The absence of myself was gratifyingly painful. I wanted to reach around and bring him back—that boy got me this far—but if I did he would also prevent me from being the man I think I wanted to be.
A man who didn’t hurt so much, who learned how to handle that hurt without hurting others, and who earned his daughter’s smiles instead of her tears.
I wanted to be the man who deserved the woman in the backseat.
“I love you.”
Impossible words from an impossible woman. There’s no way she loved me. But I had to admit to myself that her admission might have had something to do with the shift. My insides felt less weighed down, as if having her love was far less frightening than I feared it would be. If her love was real. How could it be? All my life love was this thing in movies and books. It was a fun fantasy people lived inside of to comfort their selves. When I had my daughter, I knew I’d been wrong. Love was a healing force. It moved inside of your soul and scabbed over the wounds. In a way, Aubrey, Harley, Hillary, and Bach, helped me find love again.
These people were my family, my new family, and I’d do anything to keep them. Without them, I was lost.
“Houston or Crystal Gulf?” Bach asked.
He wasn’t asking me. I held my breath, waiting for my good girl to make one more deal.
“Houston,” her soft voice answered, giving me one more chance.
I closed my eyes and let the feeling wash over me. I was going to do this again. Another woman who could leave me empty. Another relationship, more trust, and one more chance to do this right. This was my chance.
“Let me tell Harley.” Bach pulled into the apartment complex and sighed.
I smirked. “You sound afraid.”
“She’s got a mean right hook.”
Hillary exited the truck soundlessly, waiting beside me as I did the same. She looked on the edge, this quiet, broken thing that needed to be held. Together we traveled the path to the apartment. Feeling her beside me made it easier to walk. It was taking a step knowing she would be there if I fell. When we stepped inside, she stopped and stared, open-mouthed at the apartment.
I couldn’t help it. I leaned over and snagged her bottom lip between my teeth, tugging on in it gently. She exhaled into my mouth, sending a wave of sweetness against my tongue. “Can I show you your room?”
She frowned, pulling back to touch her lip. “My room?”
She chose Houston. I could choose this. “Our room?”
Her soft smile made my cock hard. “Who knew you could be a good boy too.”
“Oh, Hill, you really want to play that game with me?”
“Dylan? I need to play that game with you.” Her gorgeous sea green eyes filled with lust and pain; she wanted to forget.
I’d make her forget, tomorrow too, years from now, decades too; if Hill needed to escape, I would do my best to take her away.
“Daddy?”
My head shot up to find my daughter running for me. Whitney was in tow, dressed in tan slacks and a white blazer. The mother of my child looked less like the girl I used to hook up with, and more like a woman trying to give her daughter the life she deserved.
I scooped Aubrey up and held her. “What a surprise.”
She hugged my neck. “You live so close to me!” She squealed, too happy to put it into words. “I could walk here with mommy.”
“Does that make you happy?”
“Really, really, super-duper happy!”
“Only two really’s?” I smirked when really I wanted to cry. Her eyes were bright, shining with her happiness. She was finally getting what she wanted: Me. “You look beautiful today,” I greeted Whitney, bending to kiss her cheek. “What’s the occasion?”
“No occasion. Aubrey wanted her dad. Now I can give her that.” She squeezed my arm and then smiled at Hillary. As they engaged, I found Harley watching me with that expression that said I know something’s up.
Snot. “What?”
“Should I put Hill on the lease?” She tickled Aubrey’s foot as she talked, but I knew better. She was talking to me.
“Yes.”
Her light brown eyes were shining. “Blink once for yes and twice for no.” She leaned in and whispered, “Isn’t love better the second time around?”
I rolled my eyes.
And then I blinked them once because it was.
She grinned so wide I thought her lips would crack, and then she let it fade, accepting my relationship the way I accepted hers. “So I was thinking we could all have dinner this evening. Hill, you mind helping me cook?”
“Sure.” She walked over and smiled at Aubrey. “How are you doing, cutie?”
Aubrey thought about it, twisting her lips back and forth. And then she looked at me and smiled softly. “Happy.”
Parts of me healed. Not scabbed, not scarred, but healed completely. Maybe I could do this again, really do it this time. No lies, no fears—maybe I could be a father and a boyfriend, maybe even a husband and a father once more.
I looked at Hillary and blinked once.
“Aubrey!” Bach’s voice roared.
Aubrey hid against me. “I didn’t do it, Daddy.”
Bach came out with a suit jacket. There were mounds of pink sticky stuff all over it. Hillary giggled suddenly, pointing at Bach as she laughed.
“Aubrey Meyer, what the hell is this crap all over my jacket? This thing cost me a fortune!”
“Bubble gum,” she explained.
“Why is there bubble gum all over my jacket?”
She shrugged. “Bubble gum is pink. You like bubblegum.”
“What?”
“It’s like polka dots. There were no polka dots.”
“Try again.”
“Bubble gum is yummy?”
“No dice.”
“Bubble gum is pretty? Like you?” She shrugged again, as if to say, “that’s all I got.”
“You’re lucky Dylan’s holding you.” He pointed threateningly at her. “Your little butt is mine once he puts you down.”
Aubrey gasped and looked at me, terrified. “Daddy, don’t put me down.”
I held on as tight as I could. “Never, Aubrey. I’ll never put you down again.”
***
Hillary
Parmesan cheese cascaded into the simmering red liquid.
Harley chopped garlic animatedly for the garlic bread, strangely chipper again. Aubrey and Dylan were at the kitchen table coloring. Well, Aubrey was coloring. Dylan was trying to convince her to stay in the lines.
“They’re just lines, Daddy. I can color where I want.”
“Lines are like rules. You can’t break the rules.”
Aubrey sighed heavily. “Give me the pink crayon, please,” she said, effectively shutting him up.
Dylan coloring with his daughter was making it hard to breathe. It was so sweet to watch, so … hot. I wanted to color between the lines of his abs, taste his skin, give this man my body because I knew he’d never hurt it.
Harley’s hand reached out and moved the parmesan cheese aside, spilling some on the counter. “It’s spaghetti sauce, not cheese sauce.”
�
�Sorry.” I began wiping up the mess just as Bach came into the kitchen. He kissed Harley on the cheek and then moved over to the fridge. Harley shot him a narrowed-eyed gaze, probably wondering why he wasn’t talking much. To protect myself from her eagle eyes, I went over to the table and sat down beside Dylan and Aubrey.
She looked up, pushing her hair out of her way. “Want to color?”
“I used to love coloring. Piper and I used to laminate our pictures and sell them for ice cream money.” My heart iced over at the mention of my ex-best-friend. To hide the shards, I smiled. “I’ll just say this. We didn’t buy that much ice cream.”
She giggled and then looked at Bach.
“Not until dinner,” he griped.
Dylan smirked, coloring a dinosaur blue. I thought it was odd that he found comfort coloring between the lines when his life didn’t seem to be so stationed around order. It made me wonder whether deep down inside he craved some safety as well. You’re safe with me, Dylan.
I sifted through the crayons on the table and then found a page amongst the choices. Beneath the table, I felt a hand on my knee. When I looked up, Dylan was staring at me intently. His cobalt eyes were glimmering with something, but I couldn’t place it. Their depth made my breathing deepen and my mouth dry.
He licked his lips and then looked at mine, leaning in slowly, almost as if he was under a spell.
“Eww,” Aubrey moaned when our lips finally met. She covered her eyes and shook her head. “Kissing is gross.”
“Do me a favor and keep that mentality until you’re in your forties.” Bach settled down with a can of soda, sifting through the coloring pages. “Later if you can manage.”
“Daddy?” Aubrey lowered her hands and looked at me strangely. “Will I have two mommies now?”
I froze.
Dylan’s eyes widened, and he looked from Aubrey to me so fast it was making me dizzy.
“What do you think about it?” I spoke up.
“Umm.” She looked at Bach for some reason and then at Dylan. Then she looked at Harley and ended with me again. “You and Bach have the same eyes.”
“He’s my brother.”
“I want a brother. Will you and Daddy give me a brother?”
My heart broke into a race, pumping blood into my shocked body. The idea of having Dylan’s children made me desperately wanting. A family with two parents. Four places at the table.
Dylan looked on the edge of something. “Maybe,” he finally responded. “But not for a long time. Long, long time.” Then he peeked at me, gaze questioning.
I nodded once, accepting his answer, accepting him, taking one more deal and chance.
“What about you, Uncle Bach? Can you give me a sister?”
He grinned at her. “Five.”
Harley snorted and smacked him with a towel, earning a giggle from Aubrey. It was such a sweet, untainted sound, innocent despite the topic, a sound I had this protective urge to keep safe. I wanted that giggle to remain, for her to be this sweet forever. I would do my best to protect it.
Dinner that night erased Tyler Bachmen from my mind. This was family. It was people who loved you despite how much you gave them. It was a full table with smiles and laughs. I had never felt more secure than I did watching Dylan cut Aubrey’s spaghetti noodles, or the feeling of his hand on my thigh, or the way he looked at me when he thought I wasn’t looking. Bach cracking jokes at Harley’s expense, or her replies.
I could do this.
Merge into a family, maybe have one of my own, become whatever I wanted and be whichever version of me felt right.
The thought brought a sense of peace to my soul.
It washed away the quietness of my present and replaced it with the sound of Aubrey’s giggles.
“Bath time?” Harley announced, looking pointedly at Dylan. “Your turn.”
“Come on, bubble gum girl.” He tried to get up but cringed, falling right back down. On his second attempt, he balanced on the table.
“I’ll help.” I wound around the table and scooped Aubrey up. “Which way?”
Her little fingers pointed down the hall and then twisted in my hair. “I like yellow hair. It’s like Cinderella.”
I eyed her carefully. “Cinderella is my favorite. Tell me you love her too.”
With a giggle she fell forward, burying her head against me like my answer was just too much for her. “It would be so cool to have a Fairy Godmother.”
“Tell me about it. I was Cinderella four years in a row for Halloween. My mom made my costume. It was so cool,” I admitted, having a flashback. I had to call her, tell her that I would be okay because she raised me to be.
“Can you make me an Elsa costume? They’re kind of the same thing.”
“Of course. It’ll be fun. But first? Time for soap and bubbles.”
I hadn’t realized Dylan was behind us until he said, “I’ll bring her things in.”
“Thanks.”
“No,” he said, with his back to me. “Thank you, baby.”
The bathroom was, as with the rest of the apartment, excessive. The tub was enormous wrapped in porcelain and taupe tile. There was an assortment of soap and a basket of toys. I set her down on the toilet seat and then turn the water on.
“Pink soap or purple?”
“Pink … what do I call you?”
I smiled into the water and watched as the pink liquid poured from the bottle and sprouted, overtaking the clear surface with bubbles. “Hillary’s fine.”
“But everyone calls you that. How about … Cinderella?”
I’m sure she plucked that out of her head. Her nickname made me laugh, and I shook my head, standing. “Take your clothes off and get your naked butt in that tub.”
“Okay, Cinderella.” After she had settled down in the water, she stared at the bubbles. “Are you really going to live with us?”
“I am. How does that feel?”
“Like fun.”
“You’re not sad you have to share your daddy?”
She smiled and shook her head. “We can share. He’s a good daddy. Huh?” She looked into my eyes.
I couldn’t help but feel like she was testing me, this incredibly small, intelligent human was testing me. It was the funniest most charming thing I’d ever seen. I felt warmth move over. I reached over to move the hair from her little face. Her gaze was sweet but challenging. “The best daddy.”
“The best,” I agreed, earning a brilliant smile from her.
“Don’t fight me about this,” the best daddy said, coming into the room holding a pair of dark blue pajamas. “I picked them. Deal with it.”
Aubrey sighed heavily, eyes displeased. “I like pink.”
He settled on the toilet seat and watched us, ignoring her gripe. “How’s the bath?”
“Cinderella did good.”
He raised his eyebrow at me. “Cinderella?”
I shrugged. “It’s better than wicked stepmother.”
The amusement in his eyes shone. “We’ll see.”
“Not funny,” I grumbled, splashing him with water.
He lifted his shirt and wiped his face, giving me a glimpse of those abs. “Payback will be painful.”
“I’m not afraid.”
I would never be afraid of him. He watched me wash his daughter’s hair, careful not to get soap in her eyes, and argue with her to get out of the tub.
“I’ve got it from here,” he assured me as Aubrey was spinning in a circle with a towel on her head.
“Night, cutie pie.” I bent to kiss her head.
“Night-night, Cinderella.”
“She kind of does look like Cinderella,” Dylan’s voice drifted out from the bathroom. “Beautiful, underappreciated, and too good for everyone.”
“Well,” I heard Aubrey say, “You kind of look like Prince Charming, Daddy.”
“Poor baby. All those bubbles must’ve gone to your head.”
She gasped. “I can hear them popping. Pop, pop!”
I found the living room silent when I came out. The dinner dishes had been cleaned up and the apartment looked flawless, this warm, modern space that felt so brand new it comforted me. I settled on the couch and turned the television on, scrolling through the channels as my mind drifted.
The last twenty-four hours settled over me. I was both exhausted and relieved. Okay with my nightmares because my reality didn’t feel so dark anymore. I knew in my heart that every day wouldn’t feel like this, but that wasn’t the point. Perfection had never been my goal. I’d wanted choices, to let go, to become the woman I’d always wanted without succumbing to the attack I suffered in that bedroom.
For the first time in my life, I didn’t fear tomorrow. I found comfort in the openness and the possibilities. I held all the cards and was ready to play them how I pleased.
“What are you smiling about?” Dylan eased onto the sofa, teeth gritted.
“Tomorrow.”
His eyes latched on mine. “It’ll be Sunday. I promised Whitney I’d talk to Froy about getting a job at the dealership. You think I’d look like a douche in a suit?”
“No.”
“No?”
“I think you’d look like a gorgeous father making a living so he could take care of his daughter. That’s beautiful. And … hot.”
“Hot, huh?”
“So hot.”
He glanced at his lap and then at me. “You know what to do.”
I launched myself at him, settling on his left thigh and wrapping my arms around his neck. His arms came around me without hesitation this time. His body, so hard and solid, felt tantalizing against mine. He engulfed me in his embrace.
“I want you here, on my lap, in my arms, holding on to me like I’m the only thing that matters for the rest of my life. I want that, Hillary. To matter. Can you give that to me?”
“Yes.” It’s only ever been Dylan. “I want you here, holding me, protecting me, for the rest of my life. I want that, Dylan. Can you give me that?”
“Whatever you wanted, remember? I’ll wonder forever why you want me, but that isn’t the point, is it? I’m just thankful that you do.”
Damage Me (Crystal Gulf Book 2) Page 33
