Slow Burn (12 page)

“Haddie?” His voice fortifies my obstinacy, but the gentle probing in it tugs on my resolve.

I glance over to Maddie for a split second before looking back to him. “Yeah?”

“You know I’m here if you need me, right?”

I roll my shoulders, not needing my scattered emotions to find a home here right now. I don’t need this man I have somehow let in to start offering me more than I can readily accept. Something beyond friendship.

“Thanks,” I say, hating that my voice sounds unconfident and needy. I try to find my dignity, try to find my trademark
wit. “No strings, right?” My laugh sounds weak; my thoughts are inconsistent.

He steps in closer, reaching out to run a hand up and down my arm. I know the gesture is one of comfort, but my senses go haywire from his touch. “Run all you want, Haddie,” he murmurs, his deep cadence a strong sound against the white noise around us, “but you’re going to find yourself all tangled up in those dangling ends you refuse to tie to something. … Who’s going to rescue you then?”

His words scar my psyche, telling me truths I don’t want to know but already believe to be true. Want to be true. Because if I’m all tied up in my own web of protection, then when the inevitable happens, I can’t hurt anyone else.

“I don’t need to be rescued, Becks.”

He steps back and shakes his head, sorrow in his eyes as he searches mine, trying to see past the impenetrable guard I’ve put in place. “That’s where you’re wrong, City. Everyone deserves to be rescued at some point.”

He holds my gaze for a moment longer before nodding his head at me, ruffling Maddie’s hair, making her giggle, and walking away. I watch his strong shoulders and broad back until the crowd around us swallows him up. I don’t let myself wonder if she kisses his cheek when he reaches her, if he laces his fingers with hers, or if she puts her arm around him.

I don’t.

Because he’s a forever.

And I can only focus on todays.

E
xhausted, I top off my glass of wine, walk out into the backyard, and sit down on the chaise longue. I sink into the warm summer air, face up to the fading sun, and close my eyes. Then I let the emotions that have been warring inside me during the past week wash over me. I keep my eyes closed but lift my wine to my lips and drink the tart liquid as the tears well behind my lids.

I think of my sweet Maddie girl and how she cried and clung onto my neck earlier when I dropped her off at home. I think of the what-ifs and never-gonna-bes for her, and I’m filled with such melancholy that it’s easier to just sit here in the warm summer night with the light dwindling and the sound of kids playing beyond the fence than to go inside and face the silence.

Because in the silence, doubts creep in, memories come, and need swelters.

So instead, I sit and enjoy the sounds of life around me beyond my fenced in backyard and think what a metaphorically sad description that is of me and my heart. The wine goes down too easy, and with the comfortable warmth sliding over my skin, I slowly drift off, succumbing to the grueling aspects of my week.

I jolt awake when my wineglass is taken from my hand. I’m immediately startled, but when I snap my groggy eyes open, Dante is sitting on the side of my chair and has placed my empty glass on the table beside me. His gray eyes hold mine, and he appears both concerned and amused at my midevening nap in the backyard.

“Hey,” he says softly, his hand moving to the side of my face. My body freezes at the graze of his callused fingertips against the line of my jaw, but my heart races. I tell myself that my pulse is pounding because of being startled awake, but the simmer in my lower belly puts my cards on the table.

I rub my lips together, stalling for time to figure out what I’m thinking, what to say, but just end up staring at Dante, trying to get a read on the look in his eyes. “Hey, you okay?” I finally manage to ask.

I watch the muscle in his jaw tic and feel the tensing of his fingers, and then just as soon as I see something flicker in his eyes, it’s gone. “Yeah, I’m just not used to seeing you so sad.” He angles his head to the side for a moment. “You’re not my firecracker that I’m used to.”

I take in his hair curling over the collar of his T-shirt, and the goatee on his handsome face. When he rubs his thumb absently over my bottom lip, I sit up immediately, despite his hand still resting on the crook of my neck. The air between us shifts suddenly, and I need to put this back into comfortable territory for me.

“I watched Lex die. That kind of changes you, you know?” And I know he knows, know that he held his grandfather’s hand as he passed on from cancer too, but that was over fifteen years ago. My sister’s death feels like it happened yesterday.

He nods his head in understanding as his free hand moves from the cushion to the bare skin of my thigh, his eyes never leaving mine. Warning bells go off in my head, but I can’t figure out what is louder: the alarm or the desire.
I work to swallow as his thumb rubs concentric circles up my inner thigh to the hem of my shorts.

“What are you doing, Dante?” My voice is barely audible, my warning lost in the exhale of breath that comes with it. I know I told him no sex, to not even go there … but at the same time, I’m so needy right now, so desperate to forget again.

The problem is, this time it’s not Lex I’m trying to forget.

It’s Becks.

And the flickering thoughts of forevers and tomorrows that I most definitely don’t want. Will not allow myself to have.

“You know Lexi wouldn’t want you to stop living. She’d hate that you have.” He begins to lean in, and I feel my eyes narrowing and my breath hitching as he gets closer.

“Dante …”

I know I should stop him, know I should push him away, but the minute his lips touch mine and his taste hits my tongue, I feel alive again. And I push all of the objections from my head—the ones that scream a warning about the devastation I know he can have on my heart once he gets ahold of it—and let myself fall under his spell. I want to lose myself, and the headiness I feel from his touch, his body, and his dominance doesn’t allow me to think.

Make me numb, Dante
.

Right now, I just want to be taken. Transported away from my thoughts and my questions and my insecurities. And I try to lose myself in the physicality of it all to convince myself that I want this—to be pushed to the brink so hard and fast so that I can forget everything I don’t want and remind myself that this is enough for me. Will be enough for me. That this is the way I choose to live my life.

Sex with someone who wants nothing more. Someone who will be out of my life just as quickly as he came into it.

That’s safe. That’s what I can accept.

“No, no, no!” I stop Dante by pressing my hands against
his very firm and tempting chest, forcing him back so that his lips tear from mine. I can’t do it. Can’t lose myself in Dante when Becks is the one I really want.

Dante stares at me, jaw clenched in frustration, eyes telling me he wants me. “Yes, you do,” he murmurs. “I can help you forget, Haddie. Make you feel alive.”

My body and heart have two different mind-sets, but I keep him at arm’s length as I try to calm myself down. He angles his head, his eyes holding mine until they glance down to where his fingers begin to untie the laced ribbon crisscrossing the cleavage portion of my shirt.

… but you’re going to find yourself all tangled up in those dangling ends you refuse to tie …

Becks’s words hit my ears again. Pull me back from the brink of making a huge mistake. Make me think of him when all I was trying to do was use Dante to forget about him.

“No!” I tell him with more determination.

Dante leans forward against my palms, his fingers untying one more lace. “C’mon, babe, you want me as much as I want you.”

I keep my hands up in defense as my heart and head win over the control of my body. I give one final shove against him and turn so that my legs fall over the opposite side of the lounger from where he is sitting, his hands still on my body. I shrug out of his touch and shove myself up out of the chair and start walking toward the house.

“Such a fucking tease.”

I hear his snide comment from behind me, and I falter in my footsteps, fingers on the handle of the sliding-glass door. “Make sure you taste your words, Dante, before you spit them back out.”

I start to tug on the door, anger firing in my veins at him, at me, at who the hell knows? “Now you’re just playing hard to get, babe. You know how hard that makes me,” he says, his voice close behind me, “and I do know you like it nice and hard.”

And Dante’s words should turn me on, but they don’t. They make me cringe, make me think of Becks—and how much more tempting the comment was from him instead. Jesus Christ. Why won’t he leave my thoughts?

“Touch me again and you’ll have to find a new place to stay,” I say with my back to him as I walk into the house.

“Is that a threat or a promise?” he asks with a chuckle.

“It’s a fact,” I shout back to him as I enter my bedroom and slam my door shut. And I just stand there. My hands fisted and my mind humming with confusion. Hell yes, I’m mad at Dante, but I think I’m mad at myself more than anything.

When did I become this woman who uses men to forget other men? I mean how fucked-up is that? Not that it’s right, but using sex—being a little festive—to help forget the grief of Lexi’s death is one thing, but to use it to forget another man? That’s taking it a bit too far even for my own standards.

I begin to walk to the bathroom and then turn abruptly and pick up my cell phone. I just need to hear her voice. That’s it. A little something to help me get a grip on my reality and remind me of that woman I used to be. Sassy and spunky. Not this whiny shadow of myself that I don’t even like.

I can’t seem to find and hold on to myself anymore.

Except for when I hear her voice.

Or that one night with Becks.

Gah! I dial my voice mail and fast-forward past the new messages I don’t want to listen to right now. There’s only one saved message I want to hear, and I don’t care how many times I replay it, my chest still constricts at the sound of her voice.

I listen to her ramble, her voice breathy from the exertion of speaking as she neared the end. She wanders in her message, inconsistency in her thoughts, but at my favorite part, my fingers clutch onto the phone. “Remember, Had.
Time is precious. Waste it wisely.” She pauses while her breath rattles in her chest, the slight wheeze coming through the line that still squeezes my heart and brings those days flooding back. “I love you. To the moon and back’s not far enough, Had. I’ll always love you.”

The sob catches in my throat, and the chills race over my skin as I listen to my sister’s breaths while she fumbles to end the call. I drop to the bed, needing her in so many ways. She was my rock. The serious one so that I could be the funny, flippant one. I let a few tears fall before I wipe them away hastily, mad at myself for being sad at that lasting gift she left me in that voice mail.

The knock on my door startles me. I don’t want to talk to Dante right now. I just want to be left alone and fall into a dreamless slumber. I ignore the summons and crawl farther up onto my bed and pull the blankets up around me.

“Haddie, c’mon. … Look, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to …” I hear him sigh on the other side of the door and what I can assume is his forehead hitting the wood. “Who am I kidding? Of course I meant to. It’s you, isn’t it? But I apologize. I shouldn’t have. It’s just being here brings it all back, and you’re just so fucking sexy … I just … Please, babe, talk to me …”

As much as it’s a slight shock to hear the never-wrong Dante Teller apologizing, the words do nothing to me. Nothing for me. They don’t pull me from the sadness that wraps around me like a blanket. I squeeze my eyes shut and throw one arm over my face in a fruitless attempt to protect myself from everything I don’t want to feel right now.

“Had …” His voice trails off while I sit with the covers pressed to my mouth and I wait him out, wanting to be alone. Needing to be alone. After a minute or so, I hear him sigh and then the sound of his feet padding down the hallway in retreat.

I suck in a breath of air as my body shudders with the violent sobs that I prevent myself from crying. And after a
bit, I calm down some to realize night has descended and find myself staring at the ceiling in my darkened room. Time passes, and I really want to talk to Rylee right now. I need the even-keeled and sound advice of my closest friend to tell me that I’m being stupid. That I should take my own damn advice: live a little. That life begins at the end of my comfort zone.

I pick up the phone and dial, not sure if I’m looking to find where my comfort zone exactly is.

My mind-set wavers from wanting to needing. From being angry to being resigned. It doesn’t really matter what I feel, though, because when his voice fills the line, I feel completely alone in this room right now but at the same time not so isolated anymore.

“Hello?”

I struggle to find the right words to explain why I’m calling. Except I can’t find anything beyond the jumbled garble that fills my head, so I revert back to my new standby, sarcasm. “So you’re a constant rule breaker now, are you?” And I’m not sure where my anger comes from. I shouldn’t direct it at him, but I do. Unabashedly.

I hear shifting on the other end of the phone, and then the sound of a television fades as he moves away from it. Wait. Why is he moving away from the TV? Is
she
there with him right now?

“Had? You want to help me here?”

My emotions are in such a tumult that I don’t even realize that I’d planned on taking this conversation here until it’s too late. “Your rule number one: You don’t sleep with friends. Is she a friend, too?”

And I can’t believe I just said that out loud. I don’t think he can either because the line is silent as he processes my comment. “Is
Dante
a
friend
?” There is an edge to his voice this time when he speaks, exasperation mixed with irritation that has me chewing the inside of my cheek as I try to figure out what to say next.