Chapter 34
CHAPTER THIRTY-FOUR
JUST brEATHE
DAHLIA
It’s mid-afternoon before we’re done with the insurance adjuster.
Dylan has thirty days to put together a complete inventory of damaged product, along with receipts, vendor invoices, and wholesale orders to fill in the gaps.
We’re wearing masks, but the smell of smoke is still thick, forcing Dylan and Rudy outside for frequent breaks.
Chloe and I have stretched out on a blanket, occupying ourselves with buckets and shovels in the sand.
Since arson is suspected, the emergency cleanup crew had to wait until the detectives had completed their preliminary investigation to begin. Once they arrive, Dylan and Rudy walk over, and Dylan holds out his hand for me.
I take it and stand. “How’s it going in there?”
“They’ve got the fans going, but it’ll take a while before the air is clear enough to hang around,” Dylan says. “Let’s get out of here. This can’t be good for our lungs.”
“I can work on some of this stuff at home,” Rudy says, looking at the long list of instructions from the adjuster. “I’ll come back and check on things later…see if the air feels any different in there.”
“Let me know when you’re coming, and I’ll meet you here,” Dylan says. He looks at me. “We could use a nap.”
Just hearing those words makes me yawn, and Chloe doesn’t even make a single protest about taking a nap.
“Yep, I’m taking my girls home,” Dylan says, chuckling.
My girls.
My heart curlicues all over this beach.
We pack up our things and tell Rudy bye. Dylan carries Chloe to the car and gets her buckled in. Then he bops her nose, and they both laugh.
I can’t believe this man is still so easygoing about everything. His beloved shop went up in smoke, yet he’s still calm and finding things to laugh about. I’ve done my share of bawling since yesterday, but it’s hard to stay down when Dylan is around.
On the way to his house, he rests his hand on my thigh. My hand is over his.
I clear my throat. “I think I should go see Christian…after the nap.”
He blinks. “Okay.” He pauses, and I start to get nervous. “But hear me out. I think the police should deal with him first, and depending on what they find out, then we proceed.”
I lean my head on the headrest and nod. “Yes. You’re right. That’s wise.”
“And I want to go with you.”
“Okay.”
It’s a surprise when we pull into Dylan’s driveway, and Christian is standing there, leaning against his sports car.
“What is he doing here?” I say under my breath.
I’m about to hop out of the car, my anger threatening to bubble over the surface, when Dylan puts his hand on my arm.
“Hold on. Do you think he’s safe?”
“I think so.” I shake my head. “I don’t know what to think anymore.”
“Should I call the police?”
“He wouldn’t do anything to physically harm Chloe.”
“Okay.” He takes his hand off my arm. “I’d like to be out there while you talk with him. Not because I need to listen in, but because I just don’t trust the guy right now.”
“Yes, please. I want you there.” I look back, and Chloe is asleep. “I’ll leave her in the car while we talk.”
Dylan leaves the window down.
When we step out of the car, Christian’s eyes flick to Dylan, his expression guarded.
Christian swallows hard when he sees us. “I heard about the fire.”
His voice is quieter than I expected.
“I just—” He looks between us, jaw tense. “I wanted to make sure you guys were okay. That no one was hurt.”
It catches me off guard.
“We’re okay,” I say. “Shaken. But okay.”
Christian nods once, relief flickering quickly across his face. But then his expression twists into something sharper.
“I’ve already been paid a visit by the authorities.” His voice spikes, his control slipping. “You wouldn’t believe the shit they came at me with. Asking about where I was, who I talked to, why I called your dad—like I’m in on this or something.”
Dylan shifts beside me, steady but alert.
“Are you?” I ask.
Christian’s temper flashes fully now. “Am I in on it? No! What kind of a fool do you take me for? Like I’d really do that and risk ruining my reputation around here. I didn’t sign up for this. Suddenly, I’m being interrogated? Not cool, Dahlia.”
My stomach tightens. “Christian—”
“No, really,” he snaps. “I was trying to help, and now I’m being treated like I had something to do with this mess?”
“You didn’t help,” Dylan says calmly. “Calling her dad wasn’t helping.”
Christian whips around. “I wasn’t talking to you.”
“Well, I’m talking to you,” Dylan replies, not budging. “And I don’t like the way you’re speaking to Dahlia.”
Christian scowls, looking like he’s about to say something snarky, but I step forward before he can explode further.
“Can we talk?” he asks. “Alone?”
I shake my head. “Not today.”
“Why are you punishing me? My heart was in the right place. I just wanted to make sure Chloe was in a safe environment. You hardly know this guy. What we know of his family isn’t great.
” He flings his hand in the air. “I would never do anything to hurt my daughter or you. I had nothing to do with the fire, and I don’t think I should be beaten up for calling your dad either. ”
“Christian, stop.” My voice cuts through the tension.
“I really hope you had nothing to do with the fire. If you had concerns, you should’ve come to me.
You might not have thought he’d go this far—I certainly didn’t—but don’t pretend you didn’t know exactly what you were doing by getting my dad involved. ”
“Would you just listen?” he explodes. “I’m trying to tell you that the fire is not on me. Back off with that bullshit.”
I hold up my hand, and my voice is steely. “Can you not see how this is the absolute wrong time to come at me with all this anger? Please do the right thing here.”
Christian’s face tightens, guilt flickering. “You’re right. I’m sorry.”
After a beat, he finally exhales, his shoulders sagging. His eyes are a mix of anger and yearning. It’s been a long time since I’ve seen him with his defenses down.
“I just want my family back,” he says.
I exhale slowly through my nose. “Christian—”
“No, listen.” He steps forward, hands spread in a frustrated offering. “You and me…and Chloe. We were supposed to figure it out.”
I shake my head. “Whatever happened to Anastasia?”
He snorts. “She’s not you. I messed up. I know I messed up.” His voice cracks just barely.
I can’t tell if he means what he’s saying or if he’s practicing a part.
“I’m trying, Dahlia. Doesn’t that count for something?”
I feel Dylan shift slightly beside me, not edging closer, just anchoring himself at my side. A reminder that I’m not alone in this anymore.
“It’s over,” I say softly but clearly. “You need to hear that and accept it. It was over long before Dylan. Long before any of this.”
His mouth opens, shuts. “I just want what we had.”
“You didn’t want what we had when it was in front of you,” I say.
The words aren’t cruel—they’re the truth.
“You chose other women over me. You chose everything but stability. You moved across the country to live your dream…on your own. And now you want to pretend we’re a tragic love story?
” I shake my head. “No. We’re not going back.
Move on and be happy with the choices you made. I am.”
He looks punched.
“But I want Chloe,” he says, his voice tighter now.
“You can see her,” I assure him. “Nothing about that changes. But for now, I’d feel better if the visits were in Minnesota…under supervision.”
His face darkens. “Supervised? Are you serious? I can’t always get to Minnesota.”
“If I can make it to California, you can make it to Minnesota. Make the effort and put your daughter first. You’ll have to figure out a way.”
“We’ll see about that. My lawyer will be contacting yours, if you choose to go this route.”
Dylan clears his throat softly. “There’s someone we can talk to,” he says to me, low enough that Christian can hear but not interpret it as a threat.
“Goldie knows a judge in Landmark Mountain, Colorado—good guy. He’s helped people she trusts.
If he can’t take it himself, he can recommend the right lawyer. ”
Christian scoffs. “This is ridiculous. You can’t just cut me out.”
“I’m not. But visitation is on my terms for now.” My voice steadies. “If you come to Minnesota, you can see Chloe. But I’m not traveling to California unless I choose to. You don’t get to summon us whenever you choose.”
His eyes soften just slightly. “I’m sorry,” he murmurs. “For calling your dad.”
I nod once to acknowledge it.
He finally steps back, hands falling to his sides. “I still love you,” he whispers.
I swallow. “Then love me enough to let me go.”
He looks at Dylan, then at me again, and folds. Without another word, he climbs into his car and drives off.
The moment he’s gone, I start shaking. Dylan touches the small of my back, gentle, grounding.
“You okay?” he murmurs.
“No,” I admit. “But I will be.”
He pulls me against him, and I breathe in his calm.