But it doesn’t matter. They did fall apart, and now I’m standing here, my heart shattering to think of what I’ve lost.
Once again, Lucy Horner has run away from me, and there’s not a damn thing I can do about it.
.
Thirty-One
Lucy
I slam the door to my apartment and march into the bedroom to pack my clothes. There’s no way that I can stay here another night. No way I can stand to be anywhere near Dylan, not now. Not ever. I never want to see him again.
All the way home I tried to calm down. Asked myself if I was being too emotional, if I was overreacting. I want to believe him, really I do. But he’s denying what I saw with my own eyes. As for what happened at the bonfire party, he’s denying that, too. Either I’ve gone insane, or he’s a liar. Neither is a good alternative, but honestly at this point, I’d rather find out that I’m nuts.
They say that if something seems too good to be true, it probably is. Way to learn the lesson the hard way, Lucy.
Man, I’m an idiot.
I’m still throwing my clothes randomly into my suitcase when I spot my laptop sitting on the bed.
For a second, a thought springs into my mind.
I’m going to look at the link that Dylan sent. I’m going to prove to myself once and for all that I’m not crazy, and that I’m better off without a lying bastard in my life.
When the computer’s booted up, I open his email and click on the link, which takes me to a Facebook page. At first all I see is a mass of photos. People yelling over each other, a big fire burning in the background. But there’s another link in the post, this one to a Youtube video. I click it, wondering if it will show me what I need to see.
A few seconds later I’m watching a younger Dylan in his jersey, having a drink and chatting with his friend Aaron, another blond man about his same size and shape. He’s wearing a white t-shirt and jeans. They joke around for a minute until Dylan’s eyes focus on something in the distance.
A moment later, I see myself wandering towards Dylan, a big, dumb smile on my face. Suddenly I want to grab young me and warn her about the chain of events she’s about to set off. Run away, I’d tell her. Fast.
The video is over an hour long, so I fast-forward for a time. Dylan and I have disappeared from the scene, presumably to go off and talk. A little while later he reappears without me, the bright number on his jersey reflecting the glow of the fire. He’s running around like he’s looking for something. But someone—Aaron, his buddy—goes up and talks to him again. His body language is animated, like something’s happened. Dylan looks concerned and nods. After a moment, for some weird reason, he pulls his jersey over his head and hands it over to Aaron. He’s still got a grey shirt on underneath. I suppose Aaron was cold or something, so Dylan helped him out. Could that possibly be what he was talking about when he said he was helping someone?
Oddly though, Aaron whips off his own shirt before putting the jersey on. I can see now that the white t-shirt that he took off has some kind of stain on it. After a few seconds Dylan hands him something else as well, a small item that he’s pulled out of his pocket. Then he says something inaudible and heads off in another direction.
Aaron then goes over to a nearby log, where a young woman is sitting, looking disoriented and a little miserable. He pulls her up, slips an arm around her waist, and the camera follows them for a while. I recognize her now. It’s Chloe, Dylan’s ex. The woman whose face haunts me. Though right now, all I can see is a pitiful creature. A stupid girl who’s had too much to drink.
She leans over and pukes on the sand—gross—and then she and Aaron make their way towards the parking lot.
The cameraman, obviously intrigued or amused by Chloe’s inebriated gait, follows them as they lurch towards a car in the distance. I can barely make them out now because the parking lot isn’t properly lit, but it seems that Aaron is trying to walk a very out-of-it Chloe towards a vehicle. She stops at one point, swaying on her feet, and plants a very drunk kiss on his lips. He helps her get into the car then slips around to the driver’s side.
The car, of course, is Dylan’s red Honda Civic.
The camera pans over to a young woman standing in the distance. I recognize myself, my face forlorn, the firelight illuminating me faintly. From the vantage point where I was standing, I can understand how it is that I thought I was watching Dylan’s form heading towards the car. After all these years I understand everything, in fact.
The jersey.
The ex-girlfriend.
All this time I’ve allowed myself to believe that Dylan did something awful, instead of thinking he could possibly have cared about me. I’ve thought the worst of him when he deserved the best.
The worst of it is that not only did I not trust him, but apparently I didn’t trust myself to be interesting or attractive enough for a man like him.
I thought he treated me like shit, because I somehow believed I was unworthy of his affection. For years I’ve thought that he simply toyed with me that night. Used me, then ran off to be with Chloe.
But all this time it’s been me who screwed up. Instead of returning his calls, instead of asking him what happened, or having the guts to invite him in, I shut him out seven years ago. I was the one who ruined everything.
And I did it all over again today. After telling Dylan I loved him, I didn’t even show him the courtesy of trusting him. I thought the worst again, projected my insecurities onto a man who didn’t deserve it at all.
I’ve seen Renata in action. I know she’s manipulative. I know she’s awful. I saw Dylan holding her arms to her sides, trying to keep her from hurting herself or him. But my screwed-up mind told me that it was because he wanted her.
It seems that I don’t trust myself enough to think I’m worthy of love, even now.
I want to be sick all over again, but this time it’s not because Dylan hurt me.
It’s because I did this to myself.
Thirty-Two
Lucy
I’m still here. Still in the apartment, shaking like a leaf as I sit on the couch. My hands are in my lap, clasped together like the teeth on a zipper. My knuckles have gone white and I’m sure my face has, too.
I screwed up. I ruined everything with Dylan today. All because of a stupid mistake I made seven years ago. A mistake I’ve carried on making all this time, because I was too proud, too stubborn to consider that maybe, just maybe, he was actually the good man that he seemed to be.
There’s nothing to do but apologize.
Or run away, which is what I’d really like to do. It would be easier at this point. Better in some ways. But I can’t. I ran away once before, and this time I owe it to Dylan to tell him I’m sorry for doubting him. For getting everything so, so wrong for the second time. I’ve failed Dylan, and I’ve failed myself, too.
I’m going to make this right. I’m going to tell him how sorry I am, and then I’ll say good-bye and wish him a good life. I know I’ll never see him again, but it’s okay. As long as I take the high road and admit that I’m wrong, at least I’ll be able to live with myself. My heart will break again, of course. But at least no one is responsible for breaking it but me.
With some effort, I rise to my feet on shaking legs and make my way to the door. My hand is trembling as it reaches for the handle. I don’t know quite what I’ll say when I get to him. Hell, I don’t even know if he’ll be home; he might be off getting shit-faced in a bar somewhere, rather than risk running into the psycho woman who’s just screamed at him for a crime that he didn’t commit.
I know I would drink my ass off if I were in his shoes.
I close my eyes, inhale a deep breath, and pull my door open, taking the outside air into my lungs for courage. I’m going to need it.
“Lucy.”
I hear his voice as clear as day in my mind. Wishful thinking, I suppose. I’m daydreaming, imagining things. Imagining that he’s come to me after everything.
“Lucy,
look at me.”
But when I open my eyes, Dylan is standing right in front of me. I jump about three feet in the air, letting out a little shriek that draws a smirk across his lips. “It’s just me,” he says. “Sorry if I startled you.”
I’m frozen. Stunned that he would come anywhere near me after the way I treated him. Stunned that he would apologize for a damn thing.
I shake my head. “No, I’m the one who’s so, so sorry,” I all but wail, my voice breaking immediately into a series of heaving sobs. “Dylan, I had it all wrong. I finally looked at the video on that page. I saw what happened. I was wrong about everything. You have to understand—that night on the beach, when I saw your jersey—I thought it was you—”
His smirk morphs into a smile. “Loose,” he says, moving towards me. He isn’t touching me, but for the first time, I’m hopeful that there’s a chance that he will again someday. “It’s okay. It’s all okay.”
“It is? How can it possibly be okay?” I ask, stepping back into my apartment, turning away from him. I’m panicked. I’ve never been in a situation like this with a man. I don’t know where to go, what to do with myself. I don’t know how to fight, or to resolve a fight. I don’t know how to…how to relationship.
Yes, it’s a verb now.
“When you left me in the street, I was so fucking confused,” he says. “I came home and looked at those photos and the video, too. I looked for every moment when you were on screen, trying to figure out what the hell you were so upset about, because honestly I could never understand what was going on with you. But I get it now.”
“I thought he was you. All this time, all these years, I thought…” I turn to face him again, determined to be brave. Determined to be an adult for the first time in my damned life.
Dylan nods. “Aaron is blond, and he was with my ex,” he tells me. “I should have put two and two together way back then, but I didn’t know you’d seen any of that. You have to understand, I thought you’d be exactly where I left you, down the beach. It never occurred to me that you’d see him back at the parking lot and think he was me. Chloe got drunk and threw up on his shirt, you see. He asked me if I had a spare, so I gave him my jersey. The crazy thing is I’d forgotten all about it until I saw the photos the other day. That part of the evening seemed so unimportant compared to what had happened with you. I didn’t care about any of it like I cared about what might happen between us.”
“You gave him your car keys,” I say, my voice a miserable moan. “I saw him drive off.”
He nods again. “He took Chloe home, made sure she was okay. I guess he had a bit of a thing for her. She was all over him, too. She was drunk as all hell.”
“But…how did you get home that night?”
“I walked. Do you think I cared about not having my car when I’d lost the best thing that had ever happened to me?”
I heave a hard sob of joy and pain. Sorrow sears through me for all the time we’ve lost.
“I wish you’d said something when you left me messages…I wish you’d told me all this.”
“I tried,” he says. “I really did. I just wanted to talk to you. It didn’t occur to me to explain about the jersey…”
But it wasn’t his fault. I deleted every message before I’d even heard it. Every time his voice met my ear, it was an automatic press of that damned button. It wouldn’t have mattered if he’d explained in the most graphic detail, because I wouldn’t have heard any of it.
“You never lied to me,” I say. “And today, with Renata…you told me the truth then, too. I thought you were having some kind of post-I-love-you crisis.”
“No, I wasn’t,” he says. This time he presses the backs of his fingers to my cheek. “I do love you, Lucy. And I’m not scared to say it. Not at all.”
“Even after everything?” I ask miserably.
“Do you really think I’m as fickle as all that?” he asks. “I wouldn’t give you up, not over some stupid misunderstanding. I knew something was wrong. Something was missing, a puzzle piece. But as soon as I understood it, as soon as I understood how much it must have hurt you seven years ago to think you were seeing me cheating on you…”
“Cheating? We weren’t even together.”
“As far as I was concerned we were,” he tells me. “I was yours, Loose, whether you like it or not. My heart was yours, and it’s yours now. I wouldn’t have lied to you then, and I will never, ever lie to you now. I promise you that.”
“I know,” I tell him. “I see that now.”
“Good. Listen, I have something for you. Something I was saving, but I think you should have it.”
Oh, God. It’s not an engagement ring, surely. It can’t be. Even if we do love each other, it’s too soon for diamonds.
He reaches into his pocket and pulls out a piece of paper, handing it to me. I unfold it and stare, trying to figure out what I’m looking at.
“It’s…your house,” I say. The drawing of the beautiful building that I saw on his desk in the office. Large, shuttered windows and a roof of ceramic tile. The design for Dylan’s dream home.
“It’s the house I want to build,” he replies. “I’ve already made some inquiries about land in the Napa Valley.”
“You’re moving?” I ask, hopeful. If he’s in California, then maybe…
“I’m hoping that we’re moving. Together,” he says. “I want you there with me when the time comes. You can open up your clothing store and I’ll work from there. The thing is, I don’t want to date you before we jump into a life together. We have a lot of lost time to make up, Loose.”
I stare at him in shock. “Dylan, this is my fantasy,” I reply. “Everything about it. The house, you…”
“It’s my fantasy too. It always has been. I told you a while ago that you never saw yourself as others see you. You never did figure out how beautiful you are. Maybe now you’ll start to understand how I feel about you. Maybe you’ll figure out why it is that all these years I never committed to any woman who wasn’t you.”
“I’m finally beginning to get it,” I say, laughing through my tears.
“You’re not the only one whose heart got a little broken that night.” The words come out of him softly, slowly. My eyes study his, and I know he’s being honest with me. But of course he is; he’s always been honest. “I was always afraid to admit that I could be hurt,” he says. “Men aren’t supposed to feel pain. But it fucking hurt to lose you like that.”
I throw my arms around his neck and squeeze hard. “I’m so sorry, Dylan. I really am. For everything.”
“There’s nothing to be sorry for, not anymore.”
He pulls back to look into my eyes, pushing my hair behind my ear. He kisses me softly, slowly, his hand trailing down my neck. When the kiss is done, I want to laugh and cry and dance, all at once. To tell him that he’s the only man who’s ever meant anything to me.
But I have the rest of my life to do that.
So instead I just say, “I love you, Dylan Emerson.”
Coming Soon!
Keep an eye out for Loving Hard, coming in Fall 2017.
If you’d like to be informed of future releases, exclusive deals, reader contests and special offers, please sign up:
Carina Wilder's Mailing List
Also by Carina Wilder
If you’d like to be informed of future releases, exclusive deals, reader contests and special offers, please sign up:
Carina Wilder's Mailing List
Carina’s Books:
The Single Ladies’ Travel Agency (Contemporary Romance)
Gettin’ Hard (a full-length stand-alone novel)
Paranormal Romance:
The Dragon Guild Chronicles:
Dragon Hunter
Dragon Seeker
Dragon’s Lover
Dragon’s Curse
The Alpha Seekers Series:
Sought by the Alphas
Seeking Her Mates
Illusions
Sorceress<
br />
The Plenty of Shift Choose Your Own Sequel Shifter Dating Series begins here:
Miri: Plenty of Shift, Book One
Naomi and Tyler, Book Two
Naomi and Quinn, Book Three
The Wolf Rock Shifters Series (these are complete stories and can be read out of order):
Wolf Rock Shifter Box Set
Winning the Alpha
Bearing Up In Wolf Rock
The Right to a Bear's Arms
To Lie With Lions
Alpha’s Hunt
The Billionaires and Curves Serial:
Billionaires and Curves (Taken With You) Trilogy
Taken With You
Crazy About You
The Way to You
www.carinawilder.com
Carina Wilder’s Facebook
Going Hard (Single Ladies' Travel Agency Book 2) Page 17
