Embracing Juliette (Texas Heroes: Station 9 #1)

Chapter 16

16

Juliette

D ylan and I sat at his table, eggs and fruit finished a while ago, lost in easy conversation, enraptured by the magic of this morning.

“Tell me what it was like for you growing up? The real, gritty version.” Dylan’s captivating eyes searched mine. “I want to know what made you the person you are today.” He looked down at the table, and I held my breath waiting for him to meet my eyes again. “I want to understand you better so I don’t wake up to you crying again, or if you do cry, I need to know how to help you.”

Wow. That was a heavy question. But after what we shared this morning, I was ready to open every door, window, and curtain to my soul for this man. I was ready to allow the connection, the love, the possibilities between us, to burst my walls wide open. I wanted to take the love he was offering and hold on to it with both hands. His was the kind of love that would allow me to be more vulnerable than I’ve ever been with anyone before because I trusted him, not only to accept what I showed him, but to hold me together when I opened myself up to all the broken parts I’ve tried so hard to ignore.

“Okay. There’s a lot to me, you know. I can’t tell you everything in one shot.” I was trying to lighten the mood, but it came out more nervous than playful.

“Of course,” Dylan replied with a smile. “Truly knowing a person takes a lifetime of working at it. That’s what a good relationship is all about. Just give me some glimpses into you to begin with. A jump start.”

While I put my thoughts in order, I poured us each a second cup of coffee. I tried to ignore the shaking in my hands, but I knew Dylan saw it. He saw everything. He took the mug out of my trembling hand, put it down, and silently pulled me into a hug. I let his scent calm my frayed nerves. It’ll be okay. I trust Dylan to make it okay. “I’m okay.” He kissed me sweetly on the forehead before releasing me.

“I know you are. Strong as fuck.” He poured a drop of half-and-half into his coffee, and a little more into mine, then carried them both into the living room.

I followed him and sat down on the opposite end of the couch, facing him. I took a deep breath and quickly started talking before I could overthink it.

“Okay. I guess I’ll go chron-chrono…” Shit, not a good start. “By age,” I finished. “Elementary school was fairly easy. My speech was really bad back then, but I was so shy I only spoke to a couple of friends anyway, and I didn’t really care too much about anyone else.

“Then I started middle school, and everything changed. I was in a conversation with a group of kids I knew, but not that well. I said something—I don’t remember what we were even talking about. I was still shy, so I probably didn’t say more than a few words—but one girl looked at another and said, ‘Did you get that?’ and she said no, then she turned to someone else and asked, ‘Did you understand her?’ They were all asking and saying no and shrugging at one another, until finally someone picked the conversation back up like I never spoke at all. That was the last time I spoke in a group conversation.”

“Assholes,” he growled.

I took a sip of coffee before continuing. It was easier to keep talking now that I’d started. “In gym class one day, there was a baseball game the kids were all taking so seriously. My team had two outs. I was up at bat and already had two strikes, and there were only a few minutes left in the period. I guess the rule was that it only counted as a strike if you swung, because my team started yelling at me to not swing the bat. So I just stood there at the plate watching the balls go by me. My team yelling not to swing. The other team yelling to swing. Everyone’s eyes were on me. Everyone knew there was no way in hell I could hit the ball. I was just hoping the period would end, and already dreading all the rest of the gym classes that would be in my future. Eventually, the pitcher managed to throw a ball that hit the bat exactly where it was without me swinging. We lost the game.

“I hated having to talk out loud in class. Luckily, most of my teachers knew it, and my speech issues made them uncomfortable too, so they never called on me. Except for one math teacher. For the first few months, Mrs. Wiley would always go around the room and make everyone answer in order. When it was my turn, I was usually met with a nervous silence after my answer, so I knew it wasn’t clear. Mrs. Wiley looked panicked every time, because she had to either say I was correct or ask the next person to answer it, but it was obvious she had no idea what I said, therefore no idea what she should say. Eventually, she changed to calling on people in random order and never called on me again.

“It got to a point where I barely spoke in school at all. I had a few friends, but even when I saw them, it was too hard to talk. Even though they were usually pretty good at understanding me, it was never right in school. I couldn’t whisper when we were in class. I couldn’t talk when we were passing quickly in the loud, crowded halls. I couldn’t talk if they were in a group with other people. One day, in high school, when Audrey was about to graduate, she was driving me home, and I told her how sad I’d be when she wasn’t there anymore, because some days, talking to her on our way home was the first time I’d talked to anybody all day.”

“Were you bullied?” he asked gently, his fingers brushing over my leg.

“No, I was mostly just ignored. There were a couple of people who gave me a hard time, but for the most part, it was like I was just there, invisible to everyone. And that was fine with me. I’d rather that than feel under scrutiny.”

“I’m sorry, baby. Kids can be so ignorant.” He pushed back a curl that had escaped from my bun.

“It’s okay. Even with my family, I’m often ignored, but again, I’m okay with that. Audrey loves to talk to people, which works out great for both of us because I’ve always been more than happy to let her have the spotlight.”

He tensed. “Even your family treated you that way?”

“Sometimes they were the worst. My aunt used to ask me to come over and entertain my little cousins so she could get things done around the house, but she’d never let me babysit alone. My mom told me it was because of my speech. She was afraid that if there was an emergency, I wouldn’t be able to get help. Whether it was calling her or 911, or even a neighbor, she didn’t trust that I could do it.” I shrugged like it didn’t matter, but that memory still stung.

“I can’t?—”

“Dylan. I know it doesn’t sound nice, but she wasn’t wrong. I can’t blame her for putting her kids’ safety above protecting my feelings. I don’t care if I hurt myself, but I couldn’t live with myself if someone else was hurt because of my dyspraxia.”

“I didn’t know you then, but I know you now, and I know you wouldn’t have stopped until you did what needed to be done.”

“My speech was much worse then. I don’t blame her.”

I could tell Dylan wanted to argue the point more, but I shushed him with a raised hand.

“I kept those friends from middle school for a while. There were four of us that usually did everything together. Then, in high school, there was one day that we were all supposed to go to the mall.”

Dylan took my hand and held it firmly. I tried to smile at him, but my chin was trembling.

“They overheard the guys we liked saying they were going to the mall, too. My friends wanted to try to meet up with them and told me it would be better if I didn’t go.”

Dylan squeezed my hand.

“I was devastated. I knew it was the beginning of everything changing, and I couldn’t keep up anymore. My mom...she tried to help by saying it was better that they saved me from embarrassing myself in front of everyone. That I was lucky they still wanted to be my friends at all, especially now that they were trying to meet guys. That I should be grateful for the time they spent with me.”

“Baby...”

I shook my head. I couldn’t deal with his sympathy now, not about those pitiful years. “She was right. I?—”

“Juls. She was so fucking wrong.”

“I know. But she was right that I was still lucky to have them. It wasn’t easy for me to make friends. They were better than having no friends at all. For a while—for too long—I took the crumbs they gave me, but they didn’t even try to hide it. Every time they excluded me, every story they shared that I wasn’t a part of, every time they flat-out said that something wasn’t for me, it ate away at me. Shattered what little self-esteem I’d had.”

Dylan used his free hand to wipe away my tears. “I’m sorry, baby.”

“It’s okay. It got better. I eventually met some new friends through my sister and her friends. They were from another town and knew nothing about me, so it was a fresh start. Things were still bad in school, but these new friends outside of school opened up a whole new world for me.

“For the first time, I had some control over my relationships, and I knew how to navigate it better at that age. I knew I needed to talk to people individually, even when we were in a group, and I quickly learned that if you sit really close to a boy and flirt with him, you can have a private conversation regardless of how many people are around. A sixteen-year-old boy with a girl sitting in his lap, talking quietly into his ear, will give that girl all his attention. It didn’t matter what I said or how I said it.”

Dylan’s hand tightened into a fist at his side. “They took advantage of you?” he accused with a scowl.

“No, it wasn’t like that. Luckily, they were all good kids. I guess it could’ve been bad if they weren’t, but it never went past innocent flirting and a little fooling around. It was liberating for me. Besides making great friends, having fun, and regaining some confidence with them, those times taught me how to have more control over my environment.”

He relaxed slightly, although he still didn’t look happy.

“Unfortunately, it’s no longer acceptable to sit on someone’s lap, but as I’ve gotten older with more awareness, I’ve gotten better at manipulating life to be what I need. In social situations, I try to find someone I can connect with to have a private conversation with. Or I’ll take pictures, or help serve the food, or if I’m really lucky, there will be a baby or dog around I can give all my attention to.”

“You better not sit on anyone else’s lap besides mine,” he said with a mock scowl before he smiled at me. “Seriously though, I’m so glad it’s easier for you now.”

“Thank you. It is. My dyspraxia, and my speech especially, have gotten so much better. Partly because it is better, and partly because I’ve learned how to manage it better. I’ve learned what works for me. As an adult, I get to choose what I do. I wish kids could be given more options. I could have avoided so much difficulty if I hadn’t been forced to participate in gym and music classes. As an adult, I never need to play a sport I don’t want to play. I don’t need to pretend to play an instrument in a concert in front of the whole school. When my school has a field day now, some teachers volunteer to be on the staff team and some participate with the kids, but I always offer to stay back with the kids who can’t handle going. Those kids may have a hard time with the change in routine, maybe even enough to hit me, but I’d take that any day over having to do another field day ever again.”

“I’ve never thought about how little choice kids have,” Dylan said. He let go of my hand and picked up his coffee mug, tapping his fingers against the side of it. “Juls, I…” He looked uncharacteristically unsure.

“It’s okay,” I rushed to reassure him. “I’m good now. I know my strengths and weaknesses. Things that come naturally to most people may take more effort for me, but that’s fine. For example, I know that I need to thoroughly focus on what I’m doing. Even things that I’m generally okay at, if something throws me off, I’m a mess. If I’m distracted, nervous, overwhelmed, or even just too tired, dyspraxia can get the best of me. But I’ve learned how to build on my strengths and surround myself with people and environments that make me feel good. I’ve accepted there are situations that just aren’t going to be good for me, but I try to minimize those. And when I can’t avoid them, I get through. I may feel uncomfortable, and my dyspraxia and insecurities do become overwhelming at times, but then I regroup and get myself back on comfortable ground.”

“Thank you for sharing all that with me. I’m sorry it was so hard for you when you were younger, but it makes me so proud of how far you’ve come. Hearing what you’ve had to deal with and how you’ve learned to adapt and overcome everything, it makes you even more incredible.”

Warmth flooded through me, his words like a caress to my soul. “Thank you,” I said simply, unable to think of any words to convey what that meant to me.

Dylan swallowed hard. I held my breath, waiting.

“I want to fit into that life with you.”

My heart skipped a beat. I wanted to scream out yes, please, and jump into his arms, but…

“I want that too, so badly. It makes me nervous, though. I’m really proud of myself, too. I know I’ve exceeded every expectation from when I was younger. I accept myself the way I am, and I like myself most of the time, but?—”

“No. Fuck that. That’s bullshit, Juls. No buts.” Dylan put down his mug and took my hands in his. “You are the kindest, most genuine woman I’ve ever met. You, Jenna, and Nicky are as close as friends can be. Those girls love you. Your students are fucking lucky as hell to have you. You’ll be an amazing lead therapist because you’re going to be able to read your colleagues just as well as you read your students. You’re fair and empathetic, and you know how to build people up, and that’s what makes a good leader. You’re fucking amazing, exactly as you are. I’m sorry if other people are too blind to see it, but that’s their fucking problem. Not yours. You’re a breath of fresh air, Juls. You’re so enthusiastic about everything you do… billiards, bowling, sex. Even just talking, you are so open and honest. I can’t fucking wait to spend more time with you. So don’t give me some bullshit, ‘ I’m good enough, but,’ garbage.”

“Um, I’m sorry?”

“I don’t want your apology. I want you to tell me that you’ll try to see yourself the way I see you.”

“I really am happy with myself and my life. I was trying to say that I figured out how to make it all work for me, and if it came across otherwise, well, that was the dyspraxia speaking.”

“Good.” He looked mollified. “I’m sorry for cursing so much. It pissed me off to hear you speak down about yourself.”

“Yeah, I think I got that.” I grinned at him.

He smiled back, thank goodness. “Good, don’t forget it.” He looked thoughtful for a moment before he spoke again. “I really am so impressed with you. You know exactly what you need, and you’ve built a life where you shine.”

Shit. How was I going to say what I wanted to say now?

“What is it, Juls?”

“Nothing.”

He raised a brow. “You look like you want to say something.”

“I love the way you see me. And I really do like myself. But still, you’re so outgoing and charismatic, and you can do anything you want to. I don’t want to hold you back, or for you to be ashamed of me, or embarrassed when I embarrass myself in front of other people. You should be with someone who can do everything you can do.”

Dylan looked pissed again. He looked me in the eyes so intensely, I had to fight the urge to look away.

“I guess I didn’t make myself clear before. I like you, Juls. I like you a hell of a lot. I will never be ashamed of you or embarrassed by you. I hate that you even think that’s a possibility. I love your outlook on life. The way you take responsibility to improve things for yourself. I’d be so proud to stand by your side, to celebrate all your accomplishments, big and small, to cheer you on or hold your hand when you need support. And when you need help, I promise to be there to give it, and I’ll never make you feel like less for needing it. And if anyone makes you feel bad about yourself, I’ll kick their ass. If it’s you making yourself feel bad, I’ll spank your ass too.”

“Dylan,” I whispered, blinking back tears. I wanted to hear him say that again. I wanted to write it down and be able to pull it out to read again and again. Those words warmed me deep down to my soul. I wanted to wrap myself up in him, to cocoon his words, so he could never take them back or regret them. “How did I get so lucky? You’re incredible.”

“I’m far from perfect, Juliette. Don’t put me on a pedestal I don’t deserve. I’ve made some dumb mistakes.”

“Like what?”

“Losing sight of what I wanted. Letting other people influence my decisions. I made a mess of my life and Kayla’s, and it was because I gave in to what was expected of me. I took the safe, easy path instead of following my dreams and making hard decisions. If I had half the self-awareness and gumption you do, I would’ve saved myself and Kayla a lot of trouble.”

“Tell me about what happened with Kayla?”

Dylan paused, as though to put his thoughts into words. I waited patiently, freely giving him the time I so often needed.

“We were dating for a year when she visited my parents’ house for the first time. She walked into my bedroom and laughed at the firefighter decor.”

“Wait,” I interrupted. “Was it like your cool firefighter stuff here, or like your childhood fireman bedroom? I’m not defending her, and I know this is serious, but if I saw your bedding covered in fire trucks, I might think it was cute and laugh, too.”

Dylan tried to scowl but the corners of his lips tipped up. “I didn’t have fire truck bedding anymore. I got rid of that when I was in my teens.”

“So, in your teens you made out with girls on your fire truck sheets?”

“No. Girls weren’t allowed upstairs. Are you saying that if I brought you to my bedroom and you saw fire truck sheets, you would have peaced out?”

“No way. I’d never say no to you. I wouldn’t care if your sheets had Mickey Mouse driving a fire truck.”

“That’s why you’re the best.”

His warm smile made me want to climb onto his lap and kiss him until he was as deliriously happy as that simple statement made me. But I fought the urge because I wanted to hear his story first.

“Sorry, keep going.”

“It was a mix. I’d started to collect a little already, and I still had my fire hydrant lamp and stuff, but Kayla didn’t laugh because she thought it was cute. She didn’t do cute. She was laughing at the idea of me being into firefighting. Kayla knew me as this ambitious college student with aspirations of succeeding in the lucrative business world. The fact that she was so surprised was a testament to how untrue to myself I was. Even after we were married, she never understood my interest in firefighting. I considered volunteering, but she discouraged it, saying that it would ruin my opportunity to advance if I couldn’t put in enough overtime.”

“That must’ve been so frustrating.”

“It was. After a while, we were both unhappy, but I felt committed to what I’d started. I was doing well as a banker, even though I didn’t enjoy it and I was married to Kayla, even though we were barely speaking. But this was the path I’d chosen, so I just dealt with it and hoped it would get better one day. Eventually, I realized that if I didn’t make a change, I’d look back and have nothing but regrets and wasted opportunities. I thought if I could be happier in my career, I’d be happier with my marriage, so I bit the bullet and told Kayla I wanted to quit my job and be a firefighter.”

“What did she say?”

“She flipped out and showed me a whole new ugly, greedy, shallow side of her. I hoped she’d come around, but it only got worse until the divorce was inevitable. She was furious. She told me the whole marriage had been a waste of her time. She said I had no ambition, and if she’d known that from the beginning, she would’ve found someone better instead of wasting her best years on me.”

“She’s a gold-digging bitch. You know you did nothing wrong, right? She never loved you, or she would’ve wanted you to be happy.”

Dylan shrugged, neither agreeing nor disagreeing. “Since the divorce, Kayla’s been floundering. She’s still so bitter and angry, so confrontational anytime we cross paths. It doesn’t even make sense. Our whole relationship, including dating and marriage, was only four years. She still has her whole life ahead of her. She’s a talented graphic designer, and she should be able to succeed with it, but it doesn’t look like she is. I don’t understand what’s happened to her. She’s not the same person she was when we were together. I ran into her yesterday, and I still can’t wrap my head around the way she looked and acted. I have a really bad feeling about the guy she’s with now, and she’s so desperate to latch onto someone who will provide for her, I'm afraid he’s bringing her down with him.”

I hated the self-blame I saw in his eyes. His ex was a selfish bitch who never deserved him in the first place. “It’s not easy to know what you want and need, and it’s really not easy to go after those things when the path toward it requires so much change and risk. If you didn’t take that brave step, you and Kayla would’ve woken up one day and realized you’d wasted your lives being unhappy. It’s sad that she’s struggling, but that’s not your responsibility. You didn’t abandon her or cheat on her, and I’m sure you were fair in the divorce process. It’s up to her to move on with her life. You’re not responsible for what she does now, but it shows what a good person you are that you still care. She should’ve worked harder to make your relationship work. She should’ve been proud that you wanted to follow your dream. What you do is so selfless and altruistic and it’s obvious how much you love it. I, for one, am proud of you, and I’m so happy you get to do what you love.”

Dylan grabbed my face and pulled me in for a long, hard kiss. After a moment, he pulled his lips away, but continued to hold my face. “You are nothing like her. Kayla was selfish and so caught up in what others thought of her. Part of the problem was she thought people would look down on her if I was a firefighter or if we didn’t have enough money or the right kind of life. You don’t have a pretentious bone in your body.”

I melted into Dylan’s hold as he continued to dig deeper into my heart with his words. “I love how good-hearted you are. You love the kids you work with, and you see the good in everyone. I love how you see the good in me. If there’s one thing Kayla taught me, it’s what truly matters in a person, and you have everything I want.”

Tears burned my eyes as I pulled back out of his grasp. I hated to ruin the moment, but there was more I needed to say. Love and happiness and this most amazing man were right there within reach, but I never wanted him to have regrets about being with me.

I had to swallow the lump in my throat before I could talk. “I would never purposely hold you back like Kayla did,” I choked out, “but I might do it anyway, just because of the way I am. You have to promise me that if there’s things that you want to do that I can’t, you’ll just do them without me. And if that happens too often, or with things that are too important, we’ll break it off. I don’t want that, but I don’t want you to ever feel saddled by me. I’d rather lose you than be with you and feel like a burden.”

“Juls, I want to kick the ass of every person in your life that made you feel like a burden.”

“How will you feel if your friends want to go out dancing? Does the fire department do family events that would be awkward for me? If I don’t want to do those things, are you going to be satisfied doing them without me?”

Dylan dropped his eyes and reached for his coffee, nervously fidgeting with the mug again. “Shit,” he muttered.

“What?”

He sighed and met my eyes. I hated the compassion—close to, but thank God not quite pity—in his expression, like he was trying to let me down easy.

“Just say it.”

“There’s something coming up I was going to invite you to, but then when you told me how you’d rather be hit than partake in your school’s field day, I decided to just decline for both of us. I was fine with that, and I figured you would be too. It’s really not a big deal at all, but I don’t want you to be upset that I made the decision without asking you, and now I hate that something so insignificant might upset you.”

“What is it?”

“A kickball game between a few people from my station and another station in a couple of weeks.”

“Can I just watch the game? I’ll cheer you on?”

“You can, but you might feel uncomfortable if you’re the only one not playing. It’s usually the firefighters versus cops that play, and the girlfriends or boyfriends and spouses all watch. But this game is different. One of the firefighters at Station 7 has a girlfriend who has agoraphobia. She’s come to a few of our games, but they were overwhelming for her. Her husband, Sledge, thought that a small game where she played too might be better for her. I’m sorry that it’s worse for you.”

“I don’t know.”

“Come here, baby.” Dylan put his coffee on the end table and gently pulled me onto his lap so I was facing him, my legs straddling his. He wrapped his arms around me and tucked me against his chest. “Don’t worry about the kickball game. We just shared an incredible night and a meaningful morning. I don’t want something so unimportant to taint that. We have two more days together, and I just want to enjoy them with you. I honestly don’t care either way if we go to that game or not, or if I go myself, or if you come and watch. Whatever you want is fine, and you can let me know whenever you decide. No pressure, Juls, I promise.”

“Thank you,” I whispered against his lips, deciding I wasn’t going to let it ruin our day.

To make sure he knew I was ready to move on, I rolled my hips against his. I felt him lengthen and harden beneath me, so I did it again. One of his hands gripped my hip, his fingertips digging into me almost painfully while I continued to grind against him. His other hand speared into my hair, tangling in my curls and holding me in place as he devoured me. I whimpered into his mouth, and he suddenly pushed me off his lap, onto my feet. I was confused for a moment but then he was raising his hips off the couch to pull his pants down. Before I could push my pajamas off, his hands were there, helping me. Next thing I knew, he was rolling on a condom he’d taken from the end table and pulling me back onto his lap.

I gripped his shoulders and slowly lowered myself, sighing in pleasure at the feeling of fullness. I lifted myself up again until only his tip was inside and quickly let myself drop back down on him. He dropped his head back and groaned. My heart soaring at his reaction, I did it again, faster and harder.

“Juls, so fucking good.” He pulled off my shirt and palmed my breasts with his strong, callused hands.

I looked down as I moved on top of him, loving the sight of his large hands on me. “Harder,” I moaned. He kneaded and squeezed. Oh God, I loved this position, I loved the way he touched me. The way he looked at me. Reacted to me.

I rolled my hips in a circle and cried out at the feeling. I felt him everywhere. He was kissing and caressing me, and I was so filled with him.

Shit. I lost the rhythm. I moaned in frustration, trying to move faster, but it wasn’t as good as before.

“I got you, baby,” Dylan said, gripping my hips and moving me on top of him.

“Yes!” I cried out. “More!”

Dylan moved me harder and faster, up and down, forward and back, over and over again until I was shaking and crying out his name, and then he yanked me down, slamming into me, and held me in place as we flew over the edge together.

I lay against his chest, boneless, panting.

“That was amazing, Juls. Your tits look hot bouncing all over me.”

“Thanks,” I laughed. “Glad you liked it.”

“Oh yeah, I loved it.”

“Me too.” I smiled and squirmed, laughing when his soft but still impressive dick jerked inside of me.

“Seriously though, Dylan, thank you. When I’ve been on top before, it was hard for me to keep moving like that. I’d try, but it took him so long… I guess because I wasn’t good at it, and by the time he was done, my whole body hurt from the exertion. But with you, you helped me and made it so good.”

“Baby, please don't ever talk about sex with someone else while my dick is still inside you. He was an asshole. I don’t care who’s on top, we are doing it together, we are a team, and whether it’s sex or anything else, I will never leave you to struggle on your own if I can help you.”

I love you! I screamed the words inside my head.

Aloud, I said, “Let’s go and make the most of these days.” I couldn’t verbally express my love for him yet, but I’d show him with my actions. I wanted to do everything with him, to have fun and excitement, and then come home and be right back here.

“I’m happy right here,” he said with a twist of his hips and an echo of my thoughts.

We laughed then let out a simultaneous groan as he slipped out.

“I guess we can go now.”