by Cara Dee
I'm beyond fucking sick of seeing people I care about crying.
"Listen to me, Dylan," Gabriella pleads softly. "We can fix this together, I know it. Cade took me in, you know. I was behaving so badly, and he stepped in. I don’t know what I would've done without his intervention, and I'm sure he will do the same for you."
I pinch my bottom lip, rolling my piercing, and process the princess's words. She seems to think so highly of me, and I can only hope I deserve it.
Dylan sniffles and shakes his head, his hands falling to his lap. "I'm happy for you two—I really am—but I can't be around that, Gabby. It's better I stay here so y'all can focus on yourselves. I bet you're great together, and you can be there for him like I couldn’t."
That makes me frown, not to mention wonder what the fresh hell he's referring to. Up until the end when everything went wrong, he was an amazing partner. We were fucking amazing together. We clicked so well, and he's a genuinely good person. Whether he was working toward his next goal in a swimming pool, or he was trying to make a difference in our community, he gave a hundred and ten percent.
His cheerful mood meant the world to me. He was as easygoing at four in the morning on the way to practice as he was at midnight after staying late at the animal rescue center where he volunteered.
"What on earth are you talking about?" Gabriella looks as confused as I am. "He adores you. If you think those feelings have gone away, you're such a dummy."
My mouth twists up.
"Can't you see what's going on here?" She creeps closer and whispers something in his ear.
Dylan's brow knits together before he reels back at whatever he heard her say. "You're crazy," he whisper-shouts. "Don’t do that, Gabby. Don’t think like that. It's exactly why I felt bad and left—well, one of the reasons."
Jesus, are they gonna clue me in, or…?
Gabriella gasps. "Wait, you left because of what? You mean—I mean, did you think about…"
"Yes. Okay?" Whatever Dylan let slip, he regrets it. Jaw set, tense shoulders. "I couldn’t face either of you."
Something dawns on Gabriella, and her expression softens. "That's why you wouldn’t talk to me. Because you had—"
"Keep your voice down," Dylan hisses, all while looking ten shades of embarrassed. He won't look her in the eye anymore. "I'm sorry. I couldn’t help it. I'm a big fraud."
Figuring I've eavesdropped long enough, I make my presence known and hand Dylan two of the pill bottles from the kitchen. I'm unsure of the contents of the fourth bottle, so I brought it in case he needs it.
"Thank you, Sir," he mumbles. He reaches for his water bottle on the table and takes two pills. "I'm about to be the worst company when I fall asleep, so maybe it's time to wrap this up?"
Gabriella snorts.
"That’s funny." I pat his thigh as I sit down next to him, then drape an arm along the back of the couch. "Where's your demon puppy?"
I gave him a rescue pup in January, and as a small mutt, it was a rambunctious hellion. I'm not sure I wanna know what he's like now that he's grown significantly. Dylan appropriately named him Devil.
"Doggy daycare," he replies quietly. "I can't walk him now, so a lady picks him up every mornin'."
I nod slowly, my gaze traveling across the shelf with his trophies. Swimming was really everything he ever wanted to do.
"You know what we gotta do, Daddy," Gabriella says frankly. "Kid can't stay here."
I huff while Dylan scowls.
"Kid? I'm older than you, pink streak." He flicks her hair.
"Sooo missing the point," she retorts. She leaves the floor and crawls up into my lap where she juts her chin at Dylan. "I'll be super mad if you don't come home with us."
"Gabriella," I say tiredly.
"What?" Her turn to scowl.
Dylan smiles sadly, his eyes empty. "I'm staying here. It would be too weird for Cade, and I've put y'all through enough hell."
I narrow my eyes at that, 'cause he shouldn’t fucking stay if it's for our sake.
"Hold up. Level with me, Dylan. Tell me why you're staying in Texas. The truth."
He shifts, visibly flustered and uncomfortable. "I don’t know what you want from me. I don't have my place in San Francisco anymore, and—"
"Oh, God." Gabriella rolls her eyes. "Daddy, how many nights have I spent at my place since you and I started our thingy?"
A handful at the most, but that’s beside the point. He's dodging the question.
"I didn’t ask why you won't come back," I tell him. "I'm asking why you're staying."
Gabriella pipes in. "Yeah, and like, we won't pressure you to come home if you want to stay here. But if you wanna fix things, you know, and start over where you belong, I will make the mister kidnap you."
Fuck, she's cute. And I can't really argue with her logic. If he wants to be in San Fran, he should be there. It's simple. As for making Daddy do anything…?
"You want a shot at rephrasing that, princess?" I raise a brow at her.
"Well…" She squirms on my lap, cheeks coloring a little. "I'll ask you nicely to kidnap him?"
"I guess that’s better," I chuckle wryly. Then I face Dylan again. "But she's right. Life's too short for regrets. If you wanna be in San Francisco, we can work shit out."
He chews on his lip and fidgets with the corner of his pillowcase.
I assume one of the pills he took was to fall asleep, 'cause he yawns and rubs his eyes.
"I don't deserve it," he whispers.
Gabriella opens her mouth, and this time, I intervene.
"That ain't up to you, Dylan," I murmur. "You fucked up when you went behind my back to go to that party, but I understand everything else. I know what it's like to put yourself out there and be shot down. You tried to protect yourself, I get it. I didn’t make it easy for you by switching gears when we were doing well."
I pause, remembering Rio filling me on the events of the party, and it does matter that Dylan eventually bowed out. Halfway through the evening, he was feeling awful and he retreated.
I also know Dylan didn’t intentionally set out to play with someone. He arrived with a Domme and her sub from Switch because he wanted to go, not because he wanted to have sex.
"I was sure you were about to break up with me," Dylan mumbles. "I wanted to pretend I didn’t care."
That didn’t go so well.
*
With Dylan's yawns overlapping, I tell him Gabriella and I will give him some space so he can rest, and he's quick to say we don’t have to leave. So the plan changes, going from looking up a hotel to ordering pizza and chilling on the porch.
Gabriella and I sit on an old swing and share a meat lover's pizza while Dylan gets his sleep, and my girl's mouth is running a mile a minute. She talks about fate, how maybe this is how everything was supposed to happen, and that she's confident Dylan will come home with us.
I envy her high spirits as much as I adore watching her be happy. I'm guessing it's my jaded self holding me back from hoping.
"Do you know something I don't, princess? You seem awfully cheery, and he hasn’t said yes."
She takes a bite of her pizza slice and swings her legs back and forth. "He's gonna say yes, I know it." She accepts a napkin from me. "And maybe I know something you don’t."
Color me not shocked. "Yeah, I saw you whispering to each other earlier."
"Oh." She grins and flushes. "I wanna tell you, I swear, but I think it's best he tells you himself. I'm so silly! I should've seen this coming sooner, really. Not about him, 'pacifically—specifically!—but this, us, how we're, um, special."
I can't help but laugh at her adorkable rambling.
"I'm not sure I even know what you're talking about, but it's a sight to see. Go on." I wipe some crumbs from the corner of her mouth. "I reckon having Dylan in your life does you good."
It's a big change from her worrying this morning.
"It will for you too, Daddy." She leans over and kisses my arm. "Once w
e let go of all the hurt, everyone will go bananas with happiness."
I won't rain on her parade, so I settle for stealing a kiss.
*
I can only describe the rest of the evening as awkward. Dylan wakes up, we return to the living room, and he talks to Gabriella without much issue. In fact, they have moments where it's like nothing has changed, with the exception that it's a bit more subdued. The tension comes from him and me.
I don’t know how the fuck to act around him, and he's good at avoiding eye contact.
Something prevents him from admitting he wants to return to California. Chances are it's our situation, but he stammers his way through a suggestion: he'll visit for a few days next week when his grandparents are back from Florida.
"If that’s okay?" Dylan flicks me an uncertain glance.
"Of course." I nod with a dip of my chin. Jolts of undeniable relief catch me off guard, and it's growing increasingly difficult to stay in denial. There're so many thoughts I don’t even dare to entertain. "What about the wedding? You RSVP'd yes."
He grimaces. "I completely forgot about that. But I'm sure they've already taken my name off the list."
I grunt. "You're sure about a lot of things, huh? If I were you, I'd talk to Kayla and Nick."
"I can't wait for that." Gabriella smirks. "I wanna be there when you tell Kayla you won't make it." I chuckle as Dylan cringes. "But I'm glad you're coming home," she adds with a smile. "We'll find you a good physical therapist for your rehab thingy."
I shake my head in amusement. She's relentless, that one.
"I don't need one every day. I'll be fine until I get back here," Dylan says.
"She thinks you're staying for good, kid," I tell him.
Gabriella rolls her eyes. "Well, duh."
"Oh." He shifts uncomfortably.
When the princess gets ready for another grand speech about his homecoming, I zip her mouth shut with a pointed look. Enough is enough. It's been a long day, and I don’t think he'll open up more anytime soon. That said, I have every intention of cornering him when I see him next week. There's certainly something he's hiding.
*
Gabriella and I spend the night in a guest room, and I buy our tickets home before bed. Then when we wake up, she picks out a pair of shorts that end right below her ass, with the sole purpose of showing Dylan her new ink.
"He needs to see what he missed." She shrugs. "I don't put random people on my body."
"Random people?" I button up my jeans.
"Yeah, I didn’t put the first letter of his name on my leg for no reason."
Huh?
I cock my head. "Baby, I've licked every inch of that sweet body. I've never seen any letters."
"Unf." She shivers and clears her throat. I smirk at her flustered expression. "They're hidden." She places her foot on the bed and brushes her hand over her exposed thigh. "Right here. 'D' for Dylan." I step toward her, and fuck if I can't see it now. The vines of the ivy form a cursive letter, and Cinderella sits on top of it with a flogger in her hand. "My parents and little brother." She points out another three letters around her calf. "And…'C' for Cade."
Fuck.
She gets shy as I touch the soft skin of her upper thigh. Meanwhile, as I'm skimming my fingers over the fancy "C" that a slutty cartoon princess is leaning against, I clench my jaw to keep a lid on the intense urge to claim. Like a fucking caveman, I feel nothing but possessiveness.
"Those last months with John," she murmurs, "I don’t know what I would've done without you and Dylan. You were, and always will be, my bright spots."
Gripping her thigh harder, I cup the back of her neck and kiss her. I kiss her hard and lower her to the bed where I cover her body with mine.
"Draw me something when we get home." I nip at her neck as I slip a hand underneath her shorts. "I'll make it permanent."
"Oh," she breathes out. Her head falls back when I find her slick and warm, and I finger her slowly, slow enough to make her squirm and grow frustrated. "Please, Daddy. I need it."
"What do you need?"
"You." She pushes up my T-shirt to reveal my abs, then begins undoing my jeans. "I want my Daddy between my legs."
I groan and grind my cock against her, more than happy to oblige.
We're not leaving our room for a while. Not until I've expressed everything I can't find the words for.
*
Dylan's still asleep on the couch downstairs when Gabriella and I descend the stairs half an hour later.
"Can I wake him up, please?"
I nod. "No funny business. He might be in pain, so be nice."
"Yes, Sir." She skips into the living room while I leave our bags in the hallway.
There's no rush; we have a couple hours until we gotta go, but I'm hoping to take Gabriella and Dylan out for breakfast. The boy needs to get out of the house.
Looking around me, I expect to see Devil, the golden retriever mutt that lovingly licked my face and crushed my nuts last night. If he's not here, I’ll assume Dylan's already been up to see the dog off for daycare.
"Daddy!" Gabriella calls, and I pick up on the distress in her tone. "Can you bring Dylan's medication?"
I head out to the kitchen and bring all the bottles, 'cause it's stupid he has them out there when he can barely get around.
Dylan's trying to sit up when I enter the living room, and I hurry forward to help him.
"Easy there, sweetheart. Lemme help you." I get a glass of water for him and pull him up gently so he can take his meds. "Where does it hurt?"
"Everywhere." He blinks sleepily and swallows the pills, and Gabriella fusses by fluffing his pillows and rubbing his neck. "I forgot to take the pill earlier when Darleen came for Dev. Fuck," he groans and touches his casted knee. "I'm so over this crap. It fucking radiates pain."
I press my lips together. He's not mine. Right here, right now, he's not even a sub. I can't order him to see a doctor, nor can I take charge and make sure he heals as fast as humanly possible. I hate this shit. I hate sitting by all helpless and doing fuck-all.
"Tell me what to do." I push my fingers through his bed head and scratch his scalp. It comes naturally for me, and I'm glad he doesn’t stop me.
"I'll be fine. I cramp up for a bit." He sucks in a breath and squeezes his eyes shut, the pain worsening for a second. "The meds kick in pretty quick. It was way worse last week." The twinge passes, causing him to collapse against the back of the couch, and his next groan is quiet and more of pleasure. "That feels nice." Whether it's from the scratching, the rubbing, or the painkiller setting in, I have no idea.
"You have to come home soon, like tomorrow." Gabriella frets, hating seeing him this way as much as I do. "We can't take care of you when you're a gazillion miles away."
Dylan cracks one eye open and musters a small grin for her. "I've really missed you, Gabby. You seem happy."
I smile faintly and let my hand fall.
"I am." Gabriella hugs him hard. "I'll be even happier when you come home."
"Wait, what's that?" Dylan's spotted the ink along her thigh.
"Heh. Funny story," she says.
*
It takes some effort and my serious-business tone to get Dylan to leave the house. We head to the nearest diner, and he sulks in the back of the car, occasionally glaring at his crutches, but I catch him looking wistful, too.
He grew quiet after Gabriella told him about her tattoos, and I've got my fingers crossed that he'll realize he's not so damn replaceable. Especially to that girl. And me.
I'm having a hard time wrapping my head around the ink, too—or rather, the significance. To learn I've made an impact that great kinda fucks with ya in the best ways.
We arrive at the diner, and Dylan lets me help him out of the car after I tell him to shut the fuck up. I've lost my patience for pride. Even my own. So much has happened because of pretending, omitting, and denying. The littlest things can blow up and create mayhem, and I'm over it.
&
nbsp; Needing help is all right. Needing reassurance sometimes is okay, too.
Breakfast is a quiet affair, other than Gabriella trying to lighten the tension with plans for us when Dylan comes. She deserves a medal for not giving up, and she even manages to get Dylan to set a date for his arrival.
"Thursday, okay?" He sets down his fork and sits back, frustrated and in a pissy mood.
I eye them and finish the last of my scrambled eggs. "Princess, could you give me a minute alone with Dylan?"
"Sure thing. Later, grouchy pants." She pats Dylan's head and excuses herself from the table to check out the old-fashioned jukebox by the door.
I wipe my mouth with a napkin and clear my throat. "We gotta do something about this, kid. If you're upset with me, don’t take it out on her."
"I'm not upset with you," he mutters. "I'm in pain, and I sort of just want to crawl into a hole and—"
"Don’t." I shake my head. "Don't finish that sentence." I lean forward, resting my forearms on the table. "Be real with me, Dylan. Tell me what's going on inside that head of yours."
He swallows and stares at his plate. "It's hard seeing you again. Both of you. I want…shit." His bottom lip trembles, and he covers his mouth while taking a deep breath.
Hating the distance between us, I hook his good foot with mine under the table.
"Hey." I make him look me in the eye. "I'm here, Dylan. Whatever happened before only hurt because I care. And I still do. I'm willing to work it out. Are you?"
He sniffles and takes another breath. "What's the point? And don’t get me wrong, Cade. I valued your friendship so much, but being around you…? Right now, it's just a reminder of what I lost."
I don’t know what to say to that. I can relate, since I feel the same exact fucking thing, but I have no answer.
"If it makes you feel any better, I know what it’s like," I murmur. "You got attached fast, but so did I. It won't disappear overnight."
"Really?" He seems dubious. "You mean you still, um…"
"Of fucking course I do." I loathe how little he thinks of himself. "Those feelings haven't even faded. So the way I'm thinking, we can either tiptoe around each other like idiots and pretend everything's gravy, or we can be straight for once, admit our situation sucks, and try to move forward as friends." I catch the face he makes, and I laugh quietly. "Trust me, that word tastes like acid to me, too."
