Chapter 21
TWENTY-ONE
HAVEN
After I finish braiding my hair, I flip it to my back and look at myself in the mirror one last time.
My eyes are puffy from crying like a little bitch last night, and I look tired no doubt, but at least my outfit is cute.
Leggings and my favorite NEU softball sweatshirt.
That’s about as fancy as most of my fits get these days.
Sitting on the edge of my mattress, I pull my socks over my feet before I sit up and look at my now made bed.
I cringe when flashbacks of practically begging Dallas to have sex with me flood my memory.
I looked pathetic, and now, I don’t even want to face him later.
At least he left before I woke up though, so I guess there’s that.
One last nail in the … I don’t like you that way coffin …
My bedroom door swings open, and when Dallas walks in, I don’t know whether I’m surprised or not.
He closes the door behind him, and his expression is different than the one he usually wears. He’s usually unfazed. Now? Worry and concern lace his features.
“I need to talk to you,” he says, coming closer until he’s standing in front of me. I hate that he has the ability to just … keep me here.
He humiliated me hours ago. I woke up all alone, and now, he expects me to sit here and listen to whatever he has to say?
No. I think I’ll pass.
“I have to get going,” I lie. I don’t have shit to do till this afternoon, but he doesn’t know that. Well, he probably does, but I could make something up.
As I start to stand, he crowds me, making me unable to walk away.
“No, Short.” His eyes burn into mine. “You don’t. Not right now.”
His hands fall to my waist, but not to touch me. Instead, he pushes me back down onto the bed. “Sit,” he commands. “I need to tell you something.” His voice is shaky now, and he swallows. “I need to tell you a lot actually.”
He begins to pace in front of the bed, and even though I still feel like I don’t owe him the courtesy to sit here and listen, I do it anyway. Maybe he’s going to tell me he fucked up last night. Maybe he’ll tell me that he really does want me.
And this is why you’ll never get over him, you idiot. I shake my head at myself, wishing I could turn my feelings off like a light switch.
“This thing with Tabor, Haven …” He stops pacing, his face even paler than when he walked in. “It’s bad. It’s … really bad.”
“What do you—”
“Last night, someone wrote something on your Jeep and threw a brick through your window.” His head hangs with sadness. “It’s in my parents’ garage since they’re out of town, but later … we need to talk to your dad.”
“What did he write?” I ask, knowing right away it was Tabor. No one else would do that, and even though a few days ago I wouldn’t have thought Tabor was capable of this, it had to have been him.
“It doesn’t matt—”
“Tell me!” I roar, and he flinches.
“Slut,” he utters.
“Nice,” I whisper, feeling numb because how the hell do I even process what he’s saying right now.
“There’s more.” He grimaces. “I didn’t tell you all of this right away because I didn’t want to cause you pain, but the night I went to see him—after the flowers showed up.” He stops, resting his hands on top of his head, showing how stressed he really is.
Dallas isn’t the type of person who shows when he’s worried, but right now, it’s clear as day that he’s uneasy.
“The reason why things didn’t go worse for him, and why I didn’t tell your dad, is because Tabor said he had …
pictures of you.” He looks down. “Pictures of you naked. At first, I figured he was bluffing, but when he said that if I did anything to him, he’d show the world these photos, I didn’t know what to do. ”
I feel like I might throw up. I know damn well that I never sent him any nude pictures. I’m not dumb enough to do that with people I don’t trust, and I’d never fully trusted him.
“Did he—” My lip trembles. “Have pictures of me?”
Dallas takes a few steps toward me, sinking onto his knees in front of where I sit on the edge of the bed. His hands rest on my knees and reluctantly, he nods.
“He did, but not anymore.”
“You … saw them?” I croak, so incredibly embarrassed, and yet, instead of my skin burning hot with shame, I find myself freezing cold.
“I didn’t look at them,” he says, and I know he’s telling me the truth. “Lilly … I asked her to break into his phone to find out if he was bluffing.” One hand reaches for my cheek, cupping it. “The last thing I’d ever want is to lie to you and keep something from you. But I didn’t know what to do.”
It takes me a second to process it all, but when I do, I’m hit with a wave of anger. This is my body. Those pictures were of me, and I had a right to know.
Standing up, I push him away from me.
“You told Lilly, my new roommate who you don’t even know, and you didn’t tell me?” I say, my teeth gritted. “You didn’t think I deserved a heads up?” I ball my fists up. “I’m going to talk to her.”
His hand catches mine, and he pulls me against him.
“Look at me,” he growls, though there’s unmistaken sadness in his tone and eyes.
“I thought by not telling you, I was doing the right thing. I’m sorry, Haven.
” He holds me against him, looking down at me.
“I wanted to fucking kill him. You don’t understand how much willpower it’s taken me not to murder him with my own two hands.
But I didn’t want this to blow up.” His eyes are glossed over.
“I didn’t want you to feel ashamed because this wasn’t your fault.
And I just … I thought by taking care of it myself, I was protecting you from all the pain. ”
“I had a right to know,” I growl, fighting to hold my ground while I know I’m giving in. “You should have told me.”
“And you should have told me when he showed up here and fucking grabbed your arm and pulled you toward him.” He’s pissed now, fighting back and letting out his own frustration. “You should have told me that, Haven. And you didn’t.”
“Because I didn’t think you cared!” I’m screaming in his face right now. “Why would I tell you something so small when you don’t give a shit about me!”
“Don’t give a shit about you?” He almost roars, throwing his head back. “I’ve been here every fucking night, Haven,” he pleads. “That’s not for the fucking hell of it. Why would I be here if I didn’t care?”
“Because I’m family,” I spew bitterly. “Because I’m like a little sister to you.
” Big, fat tears roll down my cheeks, and I’m not even going to attempt to wipe them away.
“Because … you do things to keep me strung along but you’ll never …
ever … feel the same way.” My lip trembles, and more tears fall.
“You kissed me—years ago. You kissed me when you were drunk.” I whimper.
“And it meant so little to you that the next day, you didn’t even remember it. ”
My breathing becomes shaky, and I try to steady myself.
“That kiss ruined my life, ruined me for anyone else.” I stare at him, snarling yet falling apart. “And you … you just forgot about it like it was nothing. Like it meant nothing.”
I’ve never felt more exposed than I do in this moment, and all at the hands of Dallas.
I’ve always been too ashamed to tell him about that kiss.
A kiss that was obviously meaningless for him.
But I’m angry enough now that there is no keeping it in any longer.
My heart breaks inside my chest, and I think the pain of saying those words out loud hurts far more than anything Tabor did.
“That’s what you really think?” he utters, his tone sharp and angry. “You think I’d be willing to give up everything just to keep you safe if I didn’t—” He stops, his breathing labored. “If you don’t see the way I really feel, then open your fucking eyes, Haven.”
My vision blurs as tears pool, and I blink slowly, letting them roll down my face. His hand slides to my cheek, and I stand here, unable to fully comprehend what he’s even telling me. When it comes to Dallas Rivers, everything confuses me.
He bends down closer to me, his lips almost touching mine while he grips my face.
“That kiss ruined me too, Haven,” he growls, his gaze darting from my eyes to my lips. “How the fuck could I ever forget kissing you?”
My heart beats inside my chest like a thousand hooves running along the dirt, thundering in my ears. My brain grows fuzzy, and even though this is what I’ve always wanted to hear, I only cry harder.
“I remember every fucking thing about you, Short. I’m sure as hell going to remember our first kiss,” he says roughly, and without warning, his lips press to mine.
When I pull back out of instinct to protect myself, he instead forces me not to—kissing me harder.
I hate that I can’t stop myself, but within seconds, my kiss melts into his, and I’m moaning into his mouth.
It doesn’t matter that he just delivered me the worst news I’ve ever received.
Because he also delivered me with the best too.
Whole. I feel like for the first time in forever, I am whole.
Nothing inside me is aching for someone or something else, a sensation I’ve been accustomed to for years.
But that voice in the back of my mind yells again, reminding me to keep my guard up.
Telling me that he could do what he did before and bolt.
His hand grazes downward, gently gripping the side of my neck, and he tears his lips from mine and presses them to my forehead as he drags in a few shaky breaths.
“I always said if I ever got the chance to kiss you again, I’d never want to stop,” he murmurs against my skin. “Tell me to stop, Short. Tell me to just go slow.”