Pulse

Chapter 11

Dahlia

My chin rests on my knees.

The ocean sparkles, the waves gently lapping at the shore in the distance. From my perch tucked in the trees, the world is magical. Serene. Perfect.

If only that were true.

Troy didn’t return, even after I’d finished dinner. I expected him to come back—I hoped he would. Sitting alone in a strange yet beautiful home, knowing that someone wants to kill me, makes me yearn for company.

I cleaned up his mess, loaded the dishwasher, and put the leftovers in the fridge. Then I found my way to a screened-in room on the third floor with the best views I’ve ever seen.

“What a waste,” I whisper.

I can’t video chat Morgan and show her this view. I can’t even turn my phone on to snap a picture. My spirits sink as the weight of reality settles on my shoulders.

What will I do if this threat is real? What if it’s not Freddy being a dumbass? Where will I go? What will I do?I can’t sit here indefinitely because, let’s face it, a white knight isn’t coming.

He wouldn’t even have dinner with me tonight.

I snort at the joke even though it wasn’t funny.

“Hey.” Troy appears in the doorway behind me, his hair still damp from his shower. “I couldn’t find you.”

“And you call yourself a professional.”

He gives me a wobbly smile. “Want to go down to the beach?”

“I don’t know. Are you going?”

“Well, you’re not going alone.”

I twist in my seat. “Since we just established that you’re a shit bodyguard, would it really matter if I went alone?”

His smile fades. “I hope you’re kidding.”

“I think we’ve also already established that we don’t always get what we hope for, haven’t we?”

“Okay. You’re pissed.”

“No, Troy, I’m not pissed. I’m tired. I’m confused. I’m trying to have a good attitude about this whole nightmare, but the one person in the entire world who I can talk to just left me sitting by myself at dinner.” I consider my words. “I guess I’m a little testy.”

He runs a hand down his face and sighs. “I’m sorry. I should’ve stayed with you.”

I start to razz him more, but the wariness in his eyes when he looks at me keeps me from it. Besides, I really don’t want to bicker with him, whether I’m half joking or not.

“Fine,” I say, getting up. “Let’s go to the beach.”

“Great,” he mumbles, letting me lead the way.

We walk silently through the house, down the stairs, and onto the back patio. A loggia connects the house to a small building at the edge of the property. It sits beside a gate that opens to the sand.

The grounds behind the house are a storybook. Perfectly manicured landscaping, tiled walkways, and a fountain in the center of the yard create a relaxed atmosphere. Vines trail up the side of the buildings, and flowers bloom in a multitude of colors from the bushes dotting the space.

It’s breathtaking.

We slip off our shoes at the gate. Troy pops a code into a keypad and then swings it open.

“Can you imagine living like this?” I ask, taking in our surroundings. I glance up and catch him watching me.

“Yeah. I can.”

I’m not sure what he means—not with how he looks at me. So I tuck my chin and step onto the beach.

“Look at that sunset,” I say as the sky transforms into a glorious array of colors. “My mom loved a pretty sunset.”

“What was she like?”

“She was amazing. She was my best friend.”

I smile as I think about her. It’s almost strange to discuss her with Troy. Despite the attraction, we’ve always kept things fairly impersonal—platonic. We don’t press too deeply into each other’s lives and keep things superficial. But the question feels genuine, and surprisingly, sharing something so personal, so special to me, feels natural.

“I think about her every day. Some days are harder than others,” I say, watching the sand squish between my toes. “She was a mother in every way—loving, protective, selfless. There was not a food she couldn’t prepare, and she could turn a loaf of bread and a package of cheese into a meal fit for a king.” I laugh. “She worked her ass off, working two jobs most of the time. But she didn’t miss any of my sporting events or teacher conferences. And she didn’t complain. She was proud … maybe too proud.”

Our feet sink into the wet sand as we walk along the water’s edge. A peacefulness settles over me, soothing the raw edges of my nerves.

“How long were she and your dad together?” he asks.

“Not long.” I gaze up at Troy. “My mother was working in a tailor’s shop, and my dad brought a jacket to be hemmed. He says he fell in love with her at first sight. Her letter said he was the most handsome man she’d ever seen.”

“Her letter?”

“Yeah.” I kick a glob of sand, watching it land with a splat a few yards down the beach. “I never knew I had a father. She would say that my father loved me very much but had to go. She’d get emotional about it when I brought it up, so I didn’t. I assumed he’d died.”

Troy shoves his hands in his pockets. “How did you find out about him?”

“Well, it turns out that they were in contact all of my life.”

“Are you serious?”

“Yeah.” I shrug. “My dad’s dad, so my grandfather, founded Dallo Metalworks. Apparently, he wasn’t quite an upstanding citizen or a nice guy. When my mom found out she was pregnant, they panicked. Neither of them wanted me raised with anything to do with my grandfather. My dad said we still wouldn”t be safe, even if he left with my mother and moved to the other side of the world.”

“Your granddad was that bad?”

“That’s what they say.”

“So what happened? Your dad just walked away from you and your mom?”

I consider the question. It’s not that easy.

“Kind of, I guess,” I say. “Mom didn’t want to abort me or put me up for adoption. And my dad didn’t want her to do that either. So the only way they could guarantee that I wasn’t in danger from one of my grandfather’s schemes was for him to never know I existed. For anyone to know I existed.”

His forehead pulls together. “So why did your dad come into your life now? If it’s so dangerous, and it still is because we’re here, why did he change course after all these years?”

“My grandfather died. I think I was thirteen or fourteen. My father inherited the company. It took him a few years to clean it up and make it more … legitimate, I guess. By the time he was ready to figure out how to come into my life, my mom got sick.”

“You’d think that was the perfect time to come into your life. He could’ve helped you cope.”

“Maybe. Or he might have just inserted himself at a time when I needed to make as many memories with her as I could because her illness was terminal. Depends on how you look at it.”

He nods his head, shuffling his feet through the water.

My heart hurts as I think of the pain my mom must’ve endured. Losing a man I believe she loved with all her heart—that’s why she never dated or married. Dying young with a daughter barely in her twenties with no other family except a father she didn’t know. She must’ve been terrified at the end and lonely in the middle.

I hate that for her. So much.

“But why now?” Troy asks.

I sigh. “When Mom was sick, and at the end of her life, she saw my dad. She asked him to see her, and he did. She wrote me a letter and gave it to him to give me if he ever thought the time was right to come into my life. The letter contained things that only she knew, and it was in her handwriting. It spelled out what happened between them and said that if Joseph Dallo handed me this letter, I could trust him. That she wanted me to.” I smile sadly. “She told me once that a letter might appear one day written on her mother’s rose stationery. And if it did, I should read it. I didn’t know what that meant until my father handed me her letter.”

“I’m just throwing this out there,” he says carefully. “Do you find it ironic that he stayed out of your life because it wasn’t safe for over twenty years, and when he decided to make contact with you, someone threatened your life?”

I can’t deny it. That’s exactly what it looks like. But my gut tells me it’s not him, and I always trust my gut.

“It is ironic,” I admit. “But I think it’s a coincidence.”

Troy sighs in frustration.

“What would he gain from threatening to kill me?” I ask. “I talk to him all the time. We have a solid relationship.”

“You just met the guy.”

“I just met you, and I trust you won’t kill me. What’s the difference?”

He stops himself from answering.

“It makes much more sense to me that it’s Freddy,” I say. “I don’t know why no one believes that. He’s angry with me. He’s … unhinged. He had access to my house because I’d given him a key.”

Troy’s lips form a tight line. “What’s his motive?”

“I don’t know. That he thought I’d get scared and run back to him? That if he can’t have me, no one else will? He’s not made sense for a while, which only backs up my point.”

“When did he start not making sense?”

I think about it. “I’m not sure. Maybe … six months ago?”

“What has he been weird about? How did his behavior change?”

“He became erratic. Paranoid. He started buying things he couldn’t afford.” I look at Troy over my shoulder. “But now I know he was doing cocaine, so that fits the narrative.”

“You were never scared of him?”

I laugh. “Uh, no. I could probably take him in a fight. And, besides, I think he knew my dad would come for him if he hurt me.”

“Freddy knows about your dad?”

“Yeah, a few people do. It was hard keeping it from him when we practically lived together when I found out.” I think back to that time. “He didn’t love the idea that Joseph Dallo was my father. He thought he was a rich prick who’d walk away from me again.”

Troy hums. “Can I ask you something else?”

“Sure.”

“I notice you never call Joseph Dad. You say my dad or my father. But never Dad.”

“Yeah, I don’t know why. I’ve let it slip a time or two, but it’s just … he didn’t play catch with me in the yard. He didn’t pick me up from school or tuck me in at night. I didn’t grow up thinking he was the biggest, strongest man in the world. So maybe I want to preserve that title for someone who embodies it.” I shrug. “I imagine hearing my children call my husband Dad someday, and it feels so special. I want it to feel special. It should feel special.”

He considers this as we stop and look across the ocean. Birds dip into the water, looking for fish. A boat sails in the distance. I don’t know if it’s the salt in the air or if my defenses are whittled down, but sharing this with Troy allows me to breathe a little easier.

“What about your parents?” I ask, taking the focus off me. “What are they like?”

Troy’s entire demeanor changes. His hands come out of his pockets. Shadows fall across his face. He looks at the ground as we walk, his lips pressed into a thin line.

“I’m sorry,” I say. “We don’t have to talk about them.”

He forces a swallow and heaves a breath. Finally, he speaks. “Parent is such a loaded word.”

I nod but stay quiet.

“Let’s just say that my parents were the opposite of yours,” he says. “They weren’t in love. They didn’t stick to their word. And they sure as hell didn’t sacrifice anything for Travis and me.”

My heart twists in my chest at the emotion—an angry, painful, resolved display visible on Troy’s face. I want to hug him, wrap my arms around his waist, and wipe the loneliness away from his features. But he’s already told me that’s not going to happen. And he’s probably right.

So I don’t.

“I’m sorry you experienced that,” I say softly.

“It made me who I am, I guess.”

“Well, if it matters at all, I think you’re a pretty great guy. You’re highly annoying a lot of the time, and you can be so demanding and bossy.” I wink at him. “But you’re a good man.”

His pace slows as he watches me.

“What?” I ask, laughing. “Why are you looking at me like that?”

Slowly, a smile inches across his cheeks. “I’m not looking at you like anything.”

“Yes, you are.”

He chuckles. “I don’t think anyone has ever told me that before.”

“No one has told you what?”

He stops with his back to the horizon. The golden hour beautifully illuminates his features, and the wind pulls his shirt tight against his body. As attractive as the image is, my favorite part of the picture is not his muscles, shoulders, or chiseled jawline.

It’s his eyes.

The gray is light, almost blue, and they’re lit in a way I’ve never noticed before. Coupled with the soft, almost shy smile he bestows upon me, I’m speechless.

“No one has ever told me I’m a good man,” he says.

“Seriously?”

He shrugs as if he’s embarrassed.

“Troy …” I flinch, finding it hard to believe. “No one has ever told you that? Ever?”

“Never. It’s stupid, and I shouldn’t have said anything because now you’re looking at me like?—”

“Hey.”

He stops, startled by my interruption.

My heart tugs in my chest. It’s obviously such a painful point for him. Can he possibly not know how wonderful he is? I’m unsure how this ties into his childhood, but I’m certain it does.

I want to hug him so damn bad, but I’m afraid he’ll pull away.

If he needs the reassurance that he’s not like his parents, I’m happy to give it to him. But I’ll have to give it to him in a way that he won’t shut right down.

I ponder my words carefully.

“I don’t want to inflate your ego or anything, and this actually hurts my ego a bit because I’m about to tell you how great you are, and you refused to kiss me …”

He bites his lip, warning me not to go there.

“You are … really amazing, actually,” I say.

His lip pops free.

“You’re intelligent and loyal. Probably the most loyal person I know,” I say, my voice carrying away on the breeze. “You’re a good friend. You’re honest and kind. You’re brave. You’re selfless … most of the time.”

He chuckles, his cheeks turning a shade of pink.

“I mean, look at you right now,” I say. “You just shelved your entire life and came here to protect a woman you work with because her asshole ex-boyfriend is fucking with her. That’s not mediocre-man stuff, Troy. That’s not even lukewarm-man stuff. That’s great-man stuff, and if no one has ever told you that, then let me be the first.”

The water laps at our ankles, pulling the sand out from around our feet as it recedes. The breeze licks at the edges of our clothes and the ends of my hair. It’s as if Troy and I are in a cocoon, insulated from the outside world. Safe from all harm—physically and emotionally.

“You almost had that right,” he says.

“What do you mean?”

“I shelved my entire life and came here to protect a woman.” He closes the distance between us. “But she’s not just a woman I work with.”

My heart skips a beat as I stare into his eyes. “Is that so?”

“She’s brilliant and hard-working and one of the sweetest people I’ve ever met even though she somehow weaponizes that sometimes.”

I try not to giggle.

“She’s a bit of a pain in the ass, but I find myself looking forward to dealing with her every day,” he says, smiling softly. “She’s strong and fearless … and wildly, ridiculously beautiful.”

I gasp, holding my breath.

“If she wasn’t my co-worker, and I wasn’t on duty, and I wasn’t so fucked up that it would undoubtedly ruin everything between us eventually, I’d shoot my shot and pray that it works.”

As soon as the words leave his mouth, his features harden. It’s as if he said too much, let his guard down too low, and is preparing for a pushback.

Nope. Sorry, Troy. You don’t get to take that back.

I turn toward the house. “Well, it’s a good thing she’s your co-worker, and you’re on duty because if your shot looks anything like it did in the closet this afternoon, it needs some work.”

His gaze snaps to mine, bewildered.

I laugh. “Let’s get back. I need a shower.”

Relief washes across his face, so I wink at him.

“Too bad you have such a shit game,” I say, walking backward so I can see him. “Or you could’ve joined me in that shower.”

My laughter trails me as I jog back to the house.

“She’s strong and fearless … and wildly, ridiculously beautiful.”

I’m not sure what just happened, but I know he’ll need time to process that.

And maybe, so will I.