Chapter 41
CHAPTER FORTY-ONE
DREAMING OUT LOUD
DYLAN
“I’m so glad you’re home,” Dahlia says, kissing me before we head in different directions for the day.
“Me too. And you know what makes me really happy?” I nuzzle her neck.
“What?” she says, laughing.
“That you call this home. I’d be happy anywhere that you are, but…it feels pretty nice here, doesn’t it?”
She leans her head on my chest and exhales. “I love it here,” she says. She looks up and grins at me. “I have to pinch myself daily over the fact that I’m here, that this is my life, that I have a man like you…”
I put my hands on her cheeks. “Dahlia, you have me in every way possible. I am yours.”
We kiss, and the world fades away…until a swish of movement goes by, and I open my eyes to see Tully speed-walking past me.
“Need to talk to you,” he says. “When you’re free. Meet me at the boat. Or the house. Please.”
“Everything okay? I’m heading to the boat. Is now good?”
He nods and turns toward the water. I look at Dahlia, eyes wide.
“You think he’s all right?” she asks.
“I better go find out. Doesn’t look too promising.”
I give her another quick kiss and hurry to the boat. When I get there, Tully is pacing on the shore.
“Hey, man.” I put my hand on his shoulder, and he startles. “Come on. We can take the boat out for a few minutes while you tell me what’s going on. You look like you need to decompress.”
He walks with me onto the boat and sits down. I sit next to him instead of starting the boat. He doesn’t look so good.
“She’s here,” he says, staring into space.
“Who’s here?”
When he doesn’t say anything, I try again.
“Tully, who’s here? What do you mean? Who is she?”
His eyes are glazed when he looks at me. “Lola Donavan. Here. At Windhaven. With Patrick Martin from the fucking Dallas Suns.”
“What? Are you sure it was her?”
“One hundred percent sure.”
“Did she see you?”
“No, I got the hell out of there. She was with Patrick Martin from the fucking Dallas Suns!” he repeats like I’m crazy for not getting it the first time.
“He’s a fucking menace out on the ice,” I say, feeling pretty pissed myself just thinking about Patrick Martin from the fucking Dallas Suns.
The Suns hockey team used to be a Minnesota team, and there’s been a long rivalry between the Fierce and the Suns off and on over the years. Patrick Martin is known for being rough out on the ice, and he and Tully have gone a few rounds multiple times.
“Wait. With Patrick…what do you mean exactly?” I ask. “You think they’re together? Like together together?”
“His hand was really low on her back. Really low,” he says through gritted teeth.
This is the most Tully has ever talked to me about Lola, so I don’t know exactly what to say.
“Fuck,” is what I go with. “What are you gonna do? Are you gonna talk to her?”
He runs his hands through his hair. “If Patrick weren’t in the picture, I’d talk to her, yeah. Of course. But I really hate the guy. And why are they here? Why is she with him…here?”
I shake my head. “Want me to check out the situation?”
“Nah. I just saw them and panicked. Had to get out of there fast. But I’ll probably lie low for a couple of days. I’ll see if there are things I can do to help Noah at Goldie’s house or something away from the resort.”
“Okay. If you change your mind, let me know. I can do some recon.”
“Thanks…thanks for listening. I…” He shakes his hands out. “Sorry. Kind of had a moment. I feel better.”
“Okay. Good. I’m here. If you need to chat again, I’ll be around.”
He tries to smile, but he’s still too upset to pull it off. “Thanks, man.”
He stalks off of the boat, and I watch him walk down the beach, away from the resort.
Wow. What’s the story there? I’ve never seen my brother so rattled.
My last excursion of the day cancels, so I’m done with work early. It’s one of those perfect summer days. Warm breeze, calm water.
I walk into the cabin, and Dahlia looks up from the table where she’s helping Chloe color what appears to be a purple sheep. Or a monster. Or a monster-shaped sheep.
“Yay, you’re home,” I say.
“And you’re home early too,” Dahlia says, grinning.
“Let’s have a picnic,” I announce.
Dahlia lifts a brow, amused. “Right now?”
“Right now,” I say, leaning down to kiss her cheek. “I’m off early, the sun is perfect, and my two favorite girls look like they need some fun.”
Chloe gasps. “Picnic! I bring Bill.”
Bill, curled at her feet, gives a proud little tail wag.
Ten minutes later, we’re walking down to the beach on my property.
Since moving back here, it’s become my favorite place.
Chloe skips ahead, holding a bucket to gather rocks, her curls dancing around her face.
Dahlia carries the picnic basket. I carry the blanket and have a hard time not staring at Dahlia.
She’s got this soft smile today. Playful eyes. She looks relaxed and happy.
We lay everything out on the sand, and the three of us sit shoulder to shoulder, eating sandwiches and fruit while the waves lazily roll in.
Chloe feeds Bill a piece of melon. “Bill likes picnics,” she declares.
“I don’t doubt it.” Dahlia laughs.
I take a breath, glance at the lake, and then at them. “Can we talk about something?”
Dahlia wipes her hands on a napkin. “Of course.”
“So I kind of told you what I’d like out here. But what’s your dream house? Like…if you let yourself picture anything. What would it be?”
She pauses, surprised, then tucks a piece of hair behind her ear.
“Well…” she starts slowly, “I’d want something cozy but roomy. Not pretentious, just…warm. Lots of windows. I want to wake up and see the lake or the trees, not another building.”
I smile because that’s exactly the kind of answer I expected.
“And a big kitchen,” she adds, like it’s just occurred to her. “With enough space for people to gather. I want a pantry—like a real one, where you don’t have to play Tetris with the cereal boxes. And a mudroom for Chloe’s stuff so I’m not tripping over tiny shoes every five minutes.”
Chloe nods seriously.
I lean back on one hand. “What about bedrooms?”
“Four,” Dahlia says softly. “And a little reading nook,” she adds quickly. “Somewhere with a window seat for rainy days.”
“That’s perfect,” I say. “I can picture all of that.”
Chloe raises her hand like she’s in school. “My turn!”
“Go for it, Princess Chloe.”
She stands up on the blanket for dramatic effect. “A slide.”
“A slide?” I ask. “Like out here with a pool or swing set?”
She nods. “Yes, and inside.”
“Oh! Inside and outside. Wow. Okay.” I nod.
“And a rainbow bed. With sparkles.”
“A rainbow bed sounds doable.” I grin at Dahlia.
“And,” Chloe continues, pointing at the lake, “a pool.”
“You want a pool next to the biggest lake in the world?” I ask.
“Yes,” she says without hesitation. “Warm pool!”
“Okay,” I say with a laugh. “You make a strong argument.”
“And Bill…” She scoops him into her arms. “He has a teeny tiny puppy couch.”
Bill licks her cheek, like he approves of the idea.
Dahlia leans her head on my shoulder. “I love her brain.”
“Me too,” I say quietly. “And her mama’s.”
I press a kiss to her temple and look out at the water, imagining windows and reading nooks and rainbow beds and warm pools and tiny dog couches.
Imagining them here—really here.
“Someday soon,” I murmur, half to myself, half to her, “we’ll make something like that right here. A place that feels like ours.”
Dahlia slips her hand into mine. “I’d like that,” she whispers.
And Chloe, who has no concept of timing, yells, “And ice cream!”
Dahlia snorts.
“Absolutely,” I whisper to Chloe, and she grins like we’ve formed a sacred pact.
The three of us sit on the blanket, dreaming out loud, and for a moment I can see our whole future unfolding right in front of me—clear, bright, and everything I’ve ever wanted.