Damn Wright: The Wrights

by Jordan, Skye

  She took a deep breath, blinked back the tears stinging her eyes, and finally said what she’d never had a chance to say all those years ago. “Goodbye, Dylan.”

  4

  The next morning, Dylan slowed in front of Emma’s apartment in the beater truck Marty had loaned him and parked at the curb.

  The building was a two-story, townhome-type setup. The ancient Honda Civic she’d gotten into at the hospital was parked on the street.

  He shut down the engine and stared at the apartment. He was about to take one major leap of faith. He’d never imagined doing something like this, but he hadn’t anticipated how deeply seeing Emma again would touch him either.

  They might have been apart for eight long years, might have even grown into different people, but the sight of her still made his heart float. The sound of her voice still made tingles race across his skin. Her eyes still sparked with passion when she was angry, reminding him of the soul-rocking sex they had after a fight. It made him remember how they’d sometimes fought just so they could make up.

  He hadn’t gotten any sleep last night. Seeing Emma vividly reminded him of everything he’d lost and showed him exactly what he wouldn’t get to experience in the future. The anguish over all they’d lost coalesced at the center of his chest beneath his ribs, throbbing like a bruise.

  But it was the sight of her bare left ring finger that had tripped a switch somewhere inside him and sent him into a researching frenzy that had lasted most of the night. By the time morning came, Dylan had a fresh perspective and a new lease on life. And now, he looked at her apartment with determination burning in his belly.

  He took out his cell and texted the number he’d found for her.

  Hey, Emma, it’s Dylan. I’m sorry about blindsiding you last night.

  He paused, searching for the best words. Words that wouldn’t set off her temper.

  If you want to give me your attorney’s information, I can save him the trouble of searching for me. I’ll just go to his office and sign whatever paperwork is needed regarding your aunt’s house. Can we find a time to talk? You name the time and place.

  He chewed on his lip for a long second. Since he’d set eyes on her again, his stomach felt like it was in a constant state of suspension, trapped somewhere between flying and plummeting. He pressed Send.

  Dylan stared at the phone. “Come on, Em,” he murmured. “Work with me.”

  His phone dinged. How’d you get my number?

  Based on her reaction to his appearance last night, he’d known this wouldn’t go over big with her.

  Before he could respond, another text came in. Never mind. Stupid question. Freaking journalists.

  Ellipses appeared beneath the message, signaling Emma was typing, so he waited to see what she’d say.

  Her next message surprised him. I’m heading out now. We can meet at a Starbucks or something.

  “Progress.” He started to type back when movement drew his gaze up. Emma stepped out of a second-floor apartment, phone in one hand, purse over her shoulder.

  He got out of the truck and leaned against the side, waiting until she’d crossed the grass between the apartment and the street to type I can do you one better. Look up.

  She hit the sidewalk and stopped. After a second, she looked up. As soon as she spotted him, her posture slid into something that read figures, head tilted, hip cocked. “This isn’t going to become a problem, right?”

  She said it more like a directive than a question and made him smile.

  “Sounds like something you probably say at work a lot.”

  He crossed the street in a saunter, his whole body heating beneath her glare. Dylan leaned his butt against the front fender of her car. Her hair was down and straight, reflecting the sun like a fresh glass of iced tea. He’d seen numerous pictures of her on social media over the years, but seeing her in person, in the daylight, took his breath. She’d been a pretty teen with that fresh girl-next-door-look. But she’d grown into a gorgeous woman. Her attitude, self-confidence, and frustration heated her up around the edges, putting her squarely in the sexy lioness category.

  She wore torn jeans, the kind she used to wear when she was working around the house or in the garden. He’d bet her faded black Converse were the same ones she’d worn as a teenager. Her black T-shirt read I like people and in smaller print beneath under general anesthesia.

  She’d gone from a skinny girl to a warrior of sorts, her body curvy, yet cut like an athlete’s.

  “This is the attorney.” All business, she pulled a card from her wallet and handed it to him.

  Her engagement ring sparkled in the sunlight, and the ground opened beneath Dylan’s feet. It had been too much to hope for. No intelligent man would let a woman like Emma get away. Evidently, surgeons were a lot smarter than journalists. Not exactly a surprise.

  He managed to dislodge the rock of disappointment in his throat and took the card. “That’s quite a ring.”

  The cost of that thing could feed a Syrian village for five years. He wondered what she’d done with the platinum band he’d given her. His matching band was in a secret sleeve of his duffel along with his favorite picture of the two of them when they’d been dating.

  “If you could follow through on contacting him, I would really appreciate it,” she said, ignoring his comment on her ring. “I had to hire three different attorneys skilled in dealing with divorce over international lines and investigators to track you down. Evidently, there’s a mountain of red tape involved in having a US citizen served a lawsuit overseas. I had to take out a personal loan to pay them all, and I’m already drowning in school loans.”

  Fuck me.

  He dropped his head and pocketed the card. “I didn’t…” He didn’t think. He didn’t realize. He didn’t know. He looked up and met her eyes. “Give me the bank information, and I’ll pay that loan. You never should have incurred that expense. If I’d signed the first set of papers, you wouldn’t have that on your shoulders.”

  Something else was bothering him, niggling in the back of his head, but there were too many emotions zinging around inside him to pinpoint what.

  She crossed her arms and met his gaze directly. “Why didn’t you?”

  Her matter-of-fact, forward manner took him a little aback. It wasn’t how he remembered her, but he liked it. So much. The spark in those sultry blue-green eyes kicked him in the gut.

  Because I should have never let you go.

  Because I’ve been lost without you.

  Because I secretly, stupidly, hoped we’d find a way back to each other.

  He drew in a deep breath to give him time to figure out how to answer. There wasn’t any reason to hold back now—except to save his ego. Which was worthless.

  “At first, it was because I was determined to blow through my recovery and come back to you whole. By then, you’d gotten into medical school in the States, and I’d just taken a job with the network and had to be overseas.” He exhaled, disgusted with all the inadequate excuses he’d made over the years. “Bottom line is, I couldn’t face the mistakes I’d made.” He pocketed the business card, feeling fifty pounds heavier than when he’d come. “Please let me take care of that loan.”

  She pressed her lips together. “I’ll think about it.”

  He just stared at her a long moment. Part of him still couldn’t believe she was standing right in front of him. He could take one step, reach out, and have her in his arms again. But only physically. Her heart was somewhere completely different.

  But he still needed to move ahead with his plan. He had to make things right with Emma. Even if that would end up benefitting another man.

  “It took me a while to figure out what you meant yesterday when you mentioned your aunt’s house,” he said. “And I remembered that she put us on the deed as a wedding present, so that when she passed away, it would be ours.”

  “I’m handling it. I said I’d send you half the money.”

  “Your aunt passed s
ix months ago. If you’re going to sell it, why isn’t it on the market?”

  “I’ve been a little busy.” Her tone held a clip of frustration. “And the house needs a lot of work.”

  “What kind of work?”

  “All kinds.” When he just waited, she sighed and continued. “Aunt Shelly had dementia. When she wasn’t thinking straight, she’d hoard. And when her mind cleared, and she realized what she was doing, she was so ashamed and overwhelmed, she wouldn’t let anyone help her. She managed to take care of herself well enough to stay out of an assisted living facility until last year. Once she went into a home, she passed away in six months.”

  He waited, hoping she’d go on. He loved hearing her talk. Wanted to do anything that extended their time together. He loved simply existing in the same sphere.

  When she didn’t go on, he said, “I’m sorry.”

  “Thanks. Anyway, the house is filled with all kinds of junk and trash. You can’t even walk through it. I haven’t had time to get over there and work on it.”

  “Why don’t you hire someone to do it?”

  “I got a bid. It’s way too expensive.”

  That undefined annoyance tickled his brain again. “Are you going to renovate it or sell it as is?”

  “I don’t have the money to renovate, and I don’t have the time to manage a renovation myself. The wife of one of the doctors at work is a Realtor, and she said I had a better chance of getting more for it if I cleaned it out and had a building inspection done. If I sold it as is, I’d only get the value of the land, because whoever bought it—probably a developer or investor—couldn’t count on the house being livable. I guess some renovations can cost more than just rebuilding from scratch.”

  This conversation felt like a warm rain, cleansing and soothing. He wanted it to go on forever. Literally.

  This was the opportunity he’d been hoping for. Seeing that engagement ring put a wrench in his plans, but his idea was still valid. He owed her so much more than this, but this was something concrete he could offer. “I’ve been thinking—”

  “Oh my God.” She rolled her eyes and looked down the street with a huff of laughter. Her smile lingered. A sweet smile that struck him like lightning. “I can’t believe the way hearing that phrase out of your mouth can still strike fear in my heart.”

  He laughed, and just like that, the years between them vanished. And for that single, sparkling moment, they were connected by a shared experience, a shared memory, infusing him with the desire to inch closer and crack open more doors between them.

  He’d always been the creative one, his mind busily generating phantasmal scenarios for their lives. Part dreamer, part doer. Emma had been the planner, the organizer, the thinker. She’d handled their finances, their futures.

  “Just hear me out,” he said.

  She heaved a sigh and settled one of her okay-dazzle-me looks on him.

  “I did a little research, and average houses in your aunt’s neighborhood in fair condition go for about three hundred thousand. Nice ones that have been renovated go for four hundred grand or more. If you just cleared it out and did nothing, it would only bring in about a hundred and fifty thousand, tops.”

  “I know. Still, seventy-five grand for each of us sounds like a million bucks to me right now.”

  “How much do you owe in student loans?”

  She averted her gaze. Emma hated debt. She’d made sure they’d always lived within their means because they both had big dreams of traveling and helping others. And they couldn’t do that if they were tied down by debt.

  “About three hundred thousand,” she muttered.

  He’d known it would be a lot, but that number staggered him. And guilt added weight to his shoulders. He’d promised her that by the time she got to medical school, he would be accomplished enough to support them. Instead, he’d disappeared from her life.

  “I figured it would be substantial.” He crossed his ankles and pressed his palms to the fender of her car. “I haven’t seen the house, but based on the information I could collect online, a renovation wouldn’t be horrendous. Your aunt may have gone downhill a few years ago, but up until that time, it looks like she took care of her house. The air-conditioning unit is newer, the electrical panel has been upgraded, and the roof still has twenty years on it.”

  “How’d you find all this information in such a short time?”

  “The planning department has records of all repairs done by a licensed professional.”

  “You always could find absolutely anything online. Well, that’s good news. Maybe we’ll get two hundred grand out of it.”

  “Or,” he said, “we could clean it up and get two hundred fifty. Do basic renovations and get three hundred. Or trick it out and get four hundred.”

  “Did you miss the part about not having the money or time to renovate?”

  “I have the time, and I could put up the money needed for supplies and specialty contractors.”

  “What do you mean you have the time? How long are you here?”

  “Indefinitely.” That spur-of-the-moment decision was something he’d have to clear with his boss, but there was no denying it felt right. “I can do a lot of the basic carpentry. And you’ve got a few mad skills of your own. We did a pretty nice job on that little cracker box we had in Hanover.”

  She shivered. “Oh, the mice.”

  “Is that all you remember? I remember the deck where we watched those incredible sunsets. The way you used to sit on my lap on that front porch swing. How our bedroom looked out over the valley.”

  “Oh God.” Her voice came out soft and laced with pain, and she turned her gaze to the ground. “Don’t do that.”

  “It’s the only way I get from day to day without you.” He hadn’t meant to make that confession. Especially not in the face of her engagement. But…there it was.

  She closed her eyes. “Dylan—”

  “Emma, I promised you a lot of things all those years ago, and I may not have been able to pay for medical school up front the way I’d planned, but I have this opportunity to pay for it on the back end.”

  Now she met his gaze with determination in her eyes. “That’s not your responsibility.”

  “I can’t change the past, but I’m finally in a position to do something about the present and the future. I don’t expect this to make up for anything that happened between us. You can still hate me as much as you want. But if you agree to renovate, and we do it together, I’ll sign the house over to you. You can have all the proceeds.”

  “What? No. That’s not fair.”

  “What’s not fair is the hell I’ve put you through because I couldn’t deal with my own shit.”

  She considered it for a hot second. He saw the interest light up her eyes. Saw flashes of memories and emotion. “And what if you get called away in the middle of the renovation? Then I’d be stuck with the mess.”

  “I’m not going anywhere.” Just the fact that she was considering the idea turned his feet to cement. Engaged or not, if she said yes, he’d do whatever he had to to show her how he’d changed. “At least not until the house is finished.”

  She smirked. “You also said until death do us part.”

  Her quick retort stung, and he winced. “Ouch.” He took a deep breath and nodded. “Okay, I’ll hire a general contractor and put all the money for the renovation in a joint account. If something happens to me during the project, like I get hit by a meteor, all the plans will already be made, the contractor can continue the project, and you’ll have the money to pay for it.”

  She just stared at him, eyes narrowed. “It’s a generous offer, Dylan, but it’s not a good idea.”

  “No, it’s a great idea. You could be debt-free in a matter of weeks. Months at the most. Homes are selling before they’re even put on the market. In days. All cash. I’m offering you the freedom I should have given you years ago. Please, take it.”

  A car pulled up behind Emma’s. Her gaze darted that
direction. “Oh shit.” The angsty curse came out soft, followed by a whispery “Shit, shit, shit.”

  Dylan watched as she shored herself up and forced a smile. He knew without looking it was her fiancé. He watched all Emma’s attention slide to the other man and Dylan had to grit his teeth and fist both hands to keep the hurt, anger, and self-loathing in check.

  He glanced toward the vehicle and found Parnell standing from a shiny Lexus SUV.

  That thing nagging in the back of his mind exploded to the forefront. Parnell had given her a twenty-five-thousand-dollar ring, drove a seventy-thousand-dollar car, but had done nothing about her school loans. Dylan might not know the why behind that, but it didn’t matter. He knew by the way she’d told Dylan how much she owed that it was a source of shame for her. A burden. One her future husband, a guy with obvious wealth, should have been more willing to help her deal with.

  He already hated Parnell on principle. Then again, Dylan certainly hadn’t been nominated for a husband-of-the-year award.

  “Hey.” Emma’s voice held a little too much enthusiasm. “I thought you were booked solid today.”

  “Bad labs,” he answered, still staring at Dylan.

  Dylan had been in enough field hospitals to know that if certain markers in a patient’s lab results came back askew, it would disqualify them from surgery unless the operations were essential to life.

  Parnell shut the driver’s door, his gaze glued to Dylan. “I know you.”

  The air shifted. Emma hummed with tension. “This is Dylan.” She told Parnell. “He’s—”

  “No. Don’t tell me.” He silenced Emma like a dog and shook a finger toward Dylan. “You look so familiar. Have we met?”

  A rush of disgusted envy whipped through Dylan. He’d sacrificed their marriage to give Emma a chance at finding a good husband. Someone who would take care of her and give her the home and children she’d wanted. Someone with a better chance of living to see those children through college and adulthood than Dylan had believed he’d had at the time. But this wasn’t that guy.