Love Emerged (Love Surfaced #3)

by Michelle Lynn

  He shrugs, and my phone buzzes.

  “Looks like it’s your turn.” John looks at the phone.

  Yasmin’s words ring in my head. I assume the first ones called will be the first ones out. Damn, this isn’t looking good.

  “Hi, Tim,” I answer.

  “Bea, can you come here?”

  “Sure thing.” I shrug out of my coat and leave everything on my desk.

  On the way to Tim’s office, I see the movers taking down a vacant cubicle. Man, even if I get the job, would I want to leave Detroit? I mean, this has been my home since I started college. It’s the longest I’ve ever lived anywhere. Sad how a spot on a map somehow makes me feel safe.

  Dylan is all smiles when I take the chair next to him in Tim’s office. Hopefully, that’s good news.

  “Bea,” Tim begins talking, “you’ve been selected to go to Chicago. You’ll be working remotely for two weeks, and we expect to see you at the office on Monday after Thanksgiving.”

  “Really?” My hand lands over my heart. “Oh, thank goodness.”

  “You’ll find details in your email. Please don’t say anything to anyone else. You two are the only ones who have been selected to come. Congratulations to the both of you.”

  I smile and look over to Dylan, who matches my expression. We leave his office, trying to hide our happiness with solemn faces. I make it out to the elevators and press the button to go down. Dylan follows, and once we reach the lobby and round the corner, he wraps me up in a warm hug.

  “Congratulations, baby,” he whispers, my feet lifting from the ground. “Move in with me.”

  “Move in?” I draw back, staring him in the eyes.

  We’ve grown closer, and I’ve tried to keep both feet in our relationship. But moving in? As in, sharing a bathroom, coming home to him every night?

  Suddenly, I can’t breathe. In fact, my voice is lost in the trenches of my throat.

  “I’m a great cook, I clean up after myself, and I’ll give you a workout every night.” He winks, and my stomach flips.

  He’s the only man I would consider moving in with, so without thinking, I answer, “I’d love to.”

  Dylan

  “YOU’RE MOVING IN TOGETHER?” MY mom screeches.

  I press my hands down in the air to quiet her.

  “She’s just upstairs,” I remind her.

  She grabs my arm, like I’m a preteen who just talked back, leading me outside. She lets me go after the back door shuts, and we’re left in the freezing cold November Thanksgiving day. I cross my arms and tuck my hands under them for warmth. Snow flurries sprinkle down on the cold pavement.

  “It is twenty degrees,” I mention.

  Her eyes stay steady on me, ignoring my point. “Dylan, you’ve known her for, what? A few months?” My mom stares up to the dreary overcast day and shakes her head.

  “She’s it, Mom.” I smile.

  She narrows her eyes. “You thought Ava was the one.” Her eyebrows shoot up in question.

  Here’s a hint—don’t ever tell your mom crap.

  “It’s different with Bea. I feel it in my gut.”

  She blows out a stream of air, making a few strands of her bangs stand. I glance through the glass French door to check if Bea’s returned from getting ready.

  “I don’t even know what to say.” She continues to shake her head, like one of those sport character bobbleheads winding down. “You have your whole future. What’s the rush?”

  “I think I love her,” I admit, glancing around to make sure no one is hiding behind the bushes. I’m petrified if I tell her that I’m positive I love Bea, my mom would try to change my mind.

  “Think isn’t good enough.”

  Well, that decision got thrown back in my face.

  “I do, but I haven’t told her yet.”

  “Why?” My mom’s demeanor changes.

  The one advantage I have in this conversation is that my close relationship with my mom enables us to truly talk. Even about feelings. She’s been my number one cheerleader all my life. No one knows how much I struggled more than her.

  I look around again and quiet my voice. “She’s had a rough life.”

  My mom’s eyes soften, and I expect her to give me a hug and wish us luck.

  “More the reason not to move so fast, Dylan. I cannot see where this is going to work. You’re two different people. She’ll end up breaking—”

  “My heart,” I finish the sentence for her.

  She nods, and water pools in her eyes. I pull her small body into me for a hug, and she wraps her arms tight around my middle.

  “I can handle myself. I’m a big boy now.”

  She nods her head into my chest, and I push her back, holding on to her shoulders so that she can see my confident eyes.

  “It will work between us. We’re good for one another, and if by some chance it doesn’t work, I’ll survive.”

  I dip my head down to her level, and a small smile creases her lips.

  “I just don’t want you to get hurt.” She conveys what I already know.

  She’s my mom, the one who is supposed to protect me from demons. She just needs to be assured that Bea isn’t a demon ready to battle her angel.

  She hugs me one more time, and I look over her shoulder, finding Bea sauntering into the kitchen. Her hair is back to all blonde, the pink tips gone. She’s casual in jeans and a sweater, looking gorgeous.

  “Just be careful,” my mom says, laying her hand on my cheek.

  “I will.”

  We walk back into my childhood home, and Bea’s vision catches mine. She silently asks what was going on with her eyes, but I smile, appeasing her, telling her that it was nothing she needs to worry about.

  My mom’s busy making the Thanksgiving dinner for us and the Ashby’s. My brother, Tanner, returned from Piper’s house to spend time with us, but all he’s doing is lying on the couch, watching television. Bea is upstairs on the phone with her dad.

  I sit down, opposite my brother, and toss a pillow at his head. “Get up, you lazy shit,” I say, spurring him to sit up.

  “I train ten hours a day, plus do endorsements, and then I work out again when I get home with Piper.” A sly smile rises on his lips.

  I prefer not to hear about my brother and his now fiancée fucking.

  “This is my only day off.”

  “Piper gave you time off?”

  “Hell no, not that I would ever want time off from that.” He grabs his water bottle. “Speaking of women . . .” He raises his eyebrows at me.

  “We were talking about Piper and your training. Nowhere did I mention anything else.”

  “Come on. What’s going on with you two? Mom said you were moving in together in Chicago.” He inhales a deep breath. “Not sure that’s the right choice.”

  “Not sure I asked you.” My eyes focus on the Lions game because, if my brother gives me shit, I’ll give him my fist.

  “Hey”—he holds his hands out in defense—“I’m on your side, whichever one that is. Always.”

  “I know. It’s just . . . first, it was mom, and I really like Bea. Tan, am I crazy?” I finally look over to him and notice he’s no longer watching the football game either. I should have called him earlier if I wanted advice, but even if he doesn’t approve, that won’t stop me from being with her.

  “I have to say, at first, I didn’t want you anywhere near each other. I’ve known Bea for six years, and you know her past, but I also know people exaggerate. Once someone sleeps with one person, others claim it, too. That could very easily be the situation with her. Even if it’s not, and she really did sleep around, does that make her less of the person you fell in love with?”

  “Who said I fell in love?”

  He points to me. “Your actions. Those eyes that watch her everywhere, the hands that sneak quick touches. You might not be ready to admit it to yourself, but you are. Before you get any more serious, you need to be okay with her past.”

  I
contemplate his advice and if I really am okay with Bea’s baggage. Even with her dysfunctional family who have screwed her up emotionally, I am. I want a future with her, and I hope she’ll stick around long enough to find she wants one with me.

  “How did you know with Piper?”

  “Hell”—he runs his hand through his hair—“different situation. I’ve known since high school that I loved her. Don’t be the jackass I was and hold back.” He stands up, shaking his empty water bottle in my face. “Need to stay hydrated. Want anything?”

  “A pitcher of vodka?” I joke.

  His hand clasps me on the shoulder before he leaves the room. “You’ll be good, little brother. Just get back on that horse.”

  I hear his bare feet padding on the hardwood toward the kitchen. The game might be on, but my focus is everywhere but on the score. I do like Bea and love her, but to admit that to her would push us into a realm I don’t think either one of us is prepared to conquer.

  Bea

  I’ve asked Dylan’s mom, Lana, if she needed help in the kitchen. No. I’ve asked her if she wanted me to set the table. No. I’ve asked her if she wanted me to clean off the table. No. I’m fairly sure if I asked her if she wanted me to leave, the answer would be an ecstatic yes.

  She’s not mean to me. A smile is plastered on her face every time she says no. But it’s very clear that I’m not her favorite person. It’s odd because before I was dating her son, I was her drinking buddy. I’m guessing she’s being protective of her baby boy.

  Now, I’ve resorted myself to hiding in the bathroom to stay clear of her. Dylan’s knocked on the door no more than three times, and each time, I tell him I’ll be right out. I’m not going to tell him that his mom scares me. I mean, my own mom doesn’t like me, so why would another person’s?

  I leave the safe confines of the bathroom and am on my way toward the kitchen when my phone rings. Seeing a number I don’t recognize, I hit Ignore, but it rings right back.

  Dylan and Tanner are razzing each other in the family room, so I sneak off toward the front door and swipe the bar over.

  “Hello?” I answer, figuring it’s another telemarketer that got my number.

  “Bea?” a male voice says, the same one that first had me melting from the sound of my name coming from his lips.

  My pulse quickens, and I sneak far away from anyone else. Dylan is still in the dark about Austin, and I’d rather devastate him myself than for him to overhear me on the phone.

  “How did you get my phone number?” I ask. But then I remember Chicago. “Mother dearest?”

  “Yeah. I’m sorry, Bea, but I’m desperate to talk to you. I’ve tried to give you time.” His voice is tenderer than I remember.

  “I can’t believe her.” My free hand clenches into a fist as I take a seat on Dylan’s parents’ living room chair, staring out at the rolling hills in their neighborhood.

  They might not have my dad’s kind of money, but they aren’t struggling either. I’m envious the same way I was with Piper the first time she brought me home because it’s a nice neighborhood. This is where the nice people come to raise their kids.

  “Don’t be mad at her. I hounded her.”

  “What? You had to ask her twice?”

  “No, no.”

  From the way he sounds, that’s exactly the case. He probably only had to ask her twice because she was preoccupied with seducing him the first time.

  “Whatever. Anyway, if you’re looking for some sort of forgiveness, you have it. I let it go a long time ago,” I lie because I’d rather ignore a problem than face it. I don’t know why people knock hiding their secrets. It works.

  “I entered rehab. It’s a step for me to reach out to those I’ve hurt.”

  God, he sounds just like he did that night. Cool, calm, and soothing as he entered me.

  “Then, you don’t have to worry about making amends with me because you never hurt me.” Brick by brick, my wall climbs higher.

  “Bea, I know I did, and I want to formally apologize.”

  I feel bad, enjoying his begging, since eight years ago, he was so intent on ignoring mine.

  “Consider it done. Thanks for calling and apologizing for taking my virginity and kicking me out of your house. You may go on to the next person you screwed over. FYI, lose this number.” I hang up before he can argue.

  My head falls into my hands, and I fight the tears of the tortured memory. He sounded genuine, and for a second, I contemplate letting him apologize to me. Would it help? Therapy didn’t.

  I’m halfway from allowing my tears to cascade down my cheeks when I hear someone’s footsteps.

  Sitting upright, I wipe the lone escaped tear from my cheek, portraying like I’m peachy keen. I’m about to stand and join the others when Lana walks in. Her eyes bore into mine, not bearing the disapproval that’s been targeted at me like an arrow all day. Empathy consumes them now. She slowly sits down on the couch across from me.

  “Bea?” she questions.

  My heart drops to the depths of my stomach. She’s going to ask questions. Questions I don’t want to answer. Especially to her.

  “Hi, Mrs. McCain, I was just about to look for Dylan.”

  She stares at me, long and unnerving. Her head shakes, and she rises back up to her feet. “Why don’t we go for a walk?”

  Without waiting for my answer, she retreats toward the hall closet where the coats are hung. A minute later, she hands me mine.

  “We’re going for a walk!” she yells to the boys, who are busy watching football.

  Dylan practically runs into the foyer, his socks sliding on the hardwood floor. His eyes look as though we just told him we were trapped in a building that caught on fire. Alarmed and desperate to fix.

  Lana shoos him with her hand. “Relax.”

  Her word doesn’t change his expression, and he questions me with his eyes.

  I smile to appease him even if my insides are churning at rapid pace. He has to eventually be relaxed with me at his house, and since his mom has initiated this conversation, I have to go through with the torture.

  “We’ll be fine.” I laugh, wanting to throw my arms around his neck and kiss him all over his adorable face for wanting to protect me. Not in front of Lana though.

  “Okay.” He still searches both our faces.

  His mom playfully rolls her eyes. “So protective,” she mumbles.

  He stalks toward me. “You have your phone, right?” he whispers.

  “Yes, because your mother is going to murder your girlfriend.” Lana makes it clear that she heard him.

  He tosses his hand to dismiss her, and she crosses her arms, tapping her foot.

  “Call me.”

  He bends down to kiss me, and I stay still, my lips tightly sewn together. Showing affection in front of the woman who despises me isn’t exactly on my to-do list.

  “Hello?” his mom says.

  He breaks away. His one lip turns up, and I can’t help but smile, too. Lana swats at his shoulder as he walks by her, but he pulls her in close, kissing her cheek.

  “Go.” She pushes him toward the family room.

  He backs up, his eyes on both of us. “Be careful. It’s cold out there.”

  “We will. Bye-bye.” Lana waves to him.

  He winks over to me, and then he disappears past the corner.

  “Sorry,” I murmur, not sure why I’m apologizing.

  “Believe me, he’s my son. I know how dramatic he can be.”

  She opens the door and allows me to walk out first. Hopefully, it’s not to shove me out. She locks the door behind her. Luckily, she follows, and we begin our walk down their driveway, turning on the sidewalk, passing the Ashbys’.

  “I’m going to be honest, Bea. It’s not that I don’t like you. I do. My concern comes for my son and whether you’re going to break his heart.”

  I admire her straightforwardness. She reminds me of myself.

  “I’m going to be honest, Lana. I like your s
on a lot, but I can’t make any promises. I hope I don’t self-destruct this relationship, but my past isn’t exactly on my side.”

  She tucks her hands into her down jacket, nodding slowly. “I’m not asking for a guarantee. I just need to know your feelings are genuine.”

  “Yes.” I’m even surprised at how fast the word comes out of my mouth. I’ve enjoyed Dylan, and I knew I liked him, maybe more, but I’m not ready to explore those intense feelings yet. “How could someone not have feelings for him?”

  “Well, I’ve met plenty.” Her remark doesn’t sound like it’s completely just women.

  I assume, watching your son grow up while struggling with himself can make even the most protective parent tighten the leash.

  “I can assure you, I’m not one of them. He makes me different, looks at me like I’m the inventor of the model car companies.”

  She laughs at my analogy, tipping her head my way. “I’ve noticed,” she says. “And you look at him like he’s your white knight, ready to whisk you away from the monsters.”

  I don’t miss the meaning of her analogy.

  I focus on the light breeze of snow whirling at our feet instead of seeing her eyes. Her hand rests on my shoulder, and I move back from the initiation of physical contact.

  “I only see what haunts you because I was very similar to you once.”

  I peer over to her, water beginning to cover my vision. Damn, when did I become such a sap?

  She nods slowly. “I was raised by my aunt and uncle. They put food on the table and gave me a room, but they didn’t exactly love me. They did, but not to the extent of what a mother and father should. That’s the reason I’m so involved in my sons’ lives, I suppose. Maybe too involved.”

  I snicker and wonder where that came from. I’ve always assumed that since I didn’t experience true love, I wouldn’t know how to show it. Man, I feel like someone punched me in the gut, admitting that. This is what Dylan was talking about this whole time. Admit your fears. What you’re embarrassed about. That is top on my list. I’ve already decided that kids wouldn’t be in my future because I have no idea what to do with them. When Dylan came along, a small seed planted in the back of my mind that maybe things could be different.