Chapter Sixteen
Dallas
Without a word, she rolls over. Her reaction is exactly what I expected.
Bex jumps up on the bed. He sniffs around, looks at me, then stretches out protectively next to Marti. I want to call him a traitor for being drawn to her more than he is to me, his savior, but it’s not like I can blame him. She’s much prettier than I am. And she smells a whole lot better too.
I inhale deeply, her vanilla scent swirling around me as I try to sleep, knowing I might be the biggest jackass to have ever lived. How could I have said what I did to her? Every damn word was a lie. But it’s easier to have her believe what I said than try to explain how I feel like I’m betraying a woman who isn’t even here anymore.
~ ~ ~
“Last quarter’s financials,” I say, handing a piece of paper to Dad.
Normally, I’d just send them in an email, but with as well as we did, I couldn’t help going old school.
He glances at the numbers, eyes widening.
I’ve been working as the CFO for the winery since graduation a few years ago, but it’s taken me a while to get my footing. Dad has been more than patient with me, allowing me to make mistakes and learn from them.
The pride on his face as he grips my shoulder is palpable. “Amazing,” he says, beaming. “I knew you could do it, son.”
Son. It’s a word he’s always used with me and my brothers when we’ve done something that pleases him. It used to be a competition between the three of us growing up, who could get the most ‘sons’ out of him.
“You’ve come a long way, Dallas. You’re proving yourself worthy of this job.”
“I’ve got to make sure there’s something left of the business for DJ to run one day.”
He smiles at the mention of his only grandchild. “That you do.”
“He’s sitting up now.”
Dad’s eyes sparkle with delight. “That’s wonderful. You should bring him by the house this weekend.”
“Can’t. It’s our fourth anniversary. I rented us a house on Martha’s Vineyard.”
“How could I forget?” He looks at his calendar. “Are your mother and I babysitting?”
I shake my head. “DJ is coming too. Phoebe doesn’t want to go a whole weekend without him. She’s still nursing him.”
“She’s an incredible mother.”
“The best.” I chuckle. “Do you know she’s already tossing around the idea of having another?”
“Doesn’t surprise me. Your wife was born to be a mom. DJ is one lucky kid.”
“I’m the lucky one.”
“We’re all lucky,” he says, sparing a glance at the multi-generational family portrait he commissioned shortly after DJ was born.
“I won’t argue with that.” I check the time. It’s after five thirty. “If there’s nothing else, I’m going to head out.”
“Go ahead. The latest cash-flow forecast I requested via email can wait until tomorrow.”
“I didn’t see that email. I can get on it right now.”
“You don’t have to, Dallas. I know how hard you work. Go enjoy dinner with your family.”
“It’s okay, Dad. It won’t take long. Say hi to Mom.”
“Will do.”
I leave his office, go back to mine, and read the email.
What he said was true, it could have waited until tomorrow. But I truly enjoy pleasing my father and proving myself to him, so I stay and put in an extra hour.
Crunching some numbers, I grin at the photo of Phoebe and DJ on my desk. Everything I do is for them. I work my ass off so the winery will one day make my son as rich as my father. No, richer. Because that little boy deserves the world. And I damn well plan to give it to him.
I’m vaguely aware of Dad, Lucas, and the others leaving as I concentrate on finishing up. I lose track of time and curse myself when I see it’s nearly seven. I hate to be late for dinner, which Phoebe always plans for seven-thirty. I’d better get a move on.
There’s movement in my doorway as I shut my laptop. It’s Dad. And he looks… off.
“I thought you left already,” I say.
“I was on my way home when I got a call.” He swallows, a greenish hue to his skin.
“A call from who?”
“It was… Patrick Kelsey.”
The hesitation with which he says it has dread pooling inside me like poison. Patrick Kelsey is a firefighter/paramedic. He’s a lieutenant in the Calloway Creek Fire Department. Dread turns into outright panic when I see the look on Dad’s face. He looks almost… broken.
Patrick called him. He turned around and came back. That means whatever he’s here to tell me, he had to say it in person.
I bolt out of my chair. “What is it? Is it DJ? Phoebe?”
Tears flood his eyes. His forehead creases with heavy lines. What he’s about to tell me is going to destroy me.
“Sit, Dallas.”
“I don’t want to fucking sit. Tell me.”
He swipes a thumb under his eyes then wipes his nose. “It’s… both of them. There’s been an accident.”
My gut twists into one large knot. “An accident? In a car? Are they in the hospital?” I check my phone. “Why didn’t anyone call me? Why’d he call you?”
When he doesn’t say anything, I begin to understand. The rug is pulled out from underneath me. I stumble to the wall and slide down until my ass hits the floor.
Nobody called me because they wanted to be sure someone was with me when I heard the news. Nobody called me because there’s nothing I can do. Nobody called me because… because… I look up and ask the question that will ruin the rest of my goddamn life. “Are they dead?”
My father blinks. I can tell he’s trying to hold it together. He’s trying to hold it together because he knows I’m about to completely fall apart. He sniffs then sighs heavily. “Yes, son. They are.”
All the air in my lungs vanishes. My stomach clenches. Bile riles in my throat. I turn and hurl all over the floor of my office. On hands and knees, I retch and heave until there’s nothing left and my throat is burning and raw.
Arms come around me, holding me tight. “Dallas. Baby, I’m s-so s-sorry.”
My mother’s words try to soothe me. When did she get here? Pained cries, almost as loud as my own, echo in the doorway. My sister Allie is here. Snot runs down her face as she sobs into Lucas’s shoulder. Dad stands stoically to the side, his body shaking as he attempts to keep from falling apart like the rest of us.
“No!” I get off the floor, unsteady on my feet, and head for the door. “It’s not true. It can’t be. They would have been at home. She’s always cooking dinner right now. Someone got the facts wrong. I have to go find them.”
Dad holds me back as I try to pass. “Dallas, they were at home.”
I shrug his hands off me. “What are you talking about? You said there was an accident.”
“There was, but not in a car.”
“Quit being so goddamn cryptic and tell me what the fuck happened.”
“Patrick said it was carbon monoxide.”
“No,” I say forcefully. “No.” Fully in denial now, I try to push past my father and siblings. “You’ve got it wrong. Everyone has it wrong.”
Dad grips me tightly. “Son, they’re gone. I’m sorry. To the depths of my soul, I’m sorry. But they’re gone.”
I crumble into him as his words sink in for the second time. He supports my weight as my mother, Allie, and Lucas come up behind me. They form a circle around me, hugging me and holding me up from every angle as sobs bellow out from all of us. The only one missing is Blake. He’s at school. But I know the instant he finds out, he’ll be here too.
“It’s going to be okay, son,” Dad says. “We’re going to get you through this.”
It’s not going to be okay. It’s never going to be okay. I’m twenty-six years old and I might as well have died with them, because nothing is ever going to be okay again. Not for a goddamn day in whatever remains of my miserable life.
“I have to see for myself.”
“Dallas, no,” Mom says. “You don’t want to do that.”
I break away from them. “I have to,” I demand. “Don’t you understand none of this seems real? I have to see them.”
“I’ll take you,” Dad says.
“Chris,” Mom sobs. “What good could possibly come of it?”
“I get it, Sarah. If it were you, I’d have to see for myself.” Dad takes my elbow as if he thinks I might fall over. “Come on, son. If you need to do this, I’ll be right there with you.”
I nod and blindly follow, my body numb.
The only thought I have during the ride is that I’m alone in this world. I have my parents. My siblings. But I might as well be a man on an island, because I’ll never again have the woman who made me whole. And DJ—my stomach rolls—he never had a chance to become the little boy I dreamed of. The man I hoped he’d one day be.
Not even sure how we got here, we enter the hospital. Each person we pass has the same look on their face. They all know me. It’s a small town. Word has probably spread quickly. I stop looking at people as I’m escorted down a flight of stairs. I stare at the plaque on the wall.
MORGUE.
What a horrible fucking word.
“Right this way, Mr. Montana,” someone says. I have no idea who. I stopped caring about anything anyone said as soon as my entire life went up in flames.
“Are you sure, son?” Dad says, still by my side.
“Can you… not call me that?”
He nods, probably thinking it’s because of DJ. It’s not. It went from being a token of achievement, to the endearment used to announce I’d lost everything.
I’m escorted into a room with two clinical steel tables. My throat almost swells shut at the small shape underneath one of the stark white sheets. Oh, Jesus, this can’t be happening.
My chin quivers uncontrollably as I approach the small bundle. I pray so hard that this is all a bad dream and when I peel back the cover, it won’t be him. I reach for the sheet but pull away. I can’t do it. I can’t stand here and look at my dead son. He’s only been here for six short months. I watched him come into the world. I held him before anyone else did. I looked into his eyes and instantly knew he was my purpose.
I can’t see him like this. I just fucking can’t.
But I have to see her . The girl who moved to town when we were kids. The girl who, from the moment we met, I knew was going to be mine. The girl who shot me down when I started asking her out when we were thirteen, and who finally said yes four years later. The girl who made me a husband, a father, and the happiest motherfucker who ever lived.
Balls of tears stream down my cheeks when I pull back the sheet covering Phoebe’s face. I let out a gut-wrenching shriek that turns into messy, slobbery sobs as I slump over her ashen body and cling to her. If only I could crawl inside so that even in death, we can be together.
I’m not sure how long I stay like this. Time has ceased to exist. Everything ceased to exist the second they did. Life no longer matters. I no longer matter. Because who am I if I’m not her husband. His father.
“Dallas.” Dad clears his throat. “It’s time to go.”
I can barely lift myself off her. Miraculously, I do. And I say one last goodbye to the first and last girl I’ll ever love. Leaning down, I place one final kiss on her forehead. Another on her blue lips. I straighten and go to pull the sheet up when she opens her eyes and looks directly at me. “How come you saved her?” she asks. “What about us?”
I scream.
Something wakes me. It’s Bex. He’s licking my neck. Probably because I’m lying here in a pool of sweat.
“You okay?” Marti asks.
“Yeah. Go back to sleep.”
She turns away, understandably upset by my earlier declaration.
I push Bex away, get out of bed, get dressed, and go for a hike.