Chapter Forty-Two – Fawn #2
Dylan slips his arms around my waist, like this is where we are precisely supposed to be. I place my hands on his shoulders, and we start dancing, slow sways with the music. There’s no fancy footwork, which surprises me, because I expect him to be lifting me.
“I wish you two had come into my life sooner . . .” I whisper into Dylan’s ear, my voice barely louder than the music.
He smiles and hums back, “I’m so sorry I came into your life late, Fawn.” His serious tone turns light. “But you know what they say — the best always comes last.”
Whacking at his upper arm, I snicker.
“You wanna know something? I didn’t just order your books the one time. I made sure twenty are sent to the house every week.”
“Dylan, that’s gonna cost you a fortune.”
He grins. “Shhh. You’re worth every cent.”
He pulls me into his chest so I can’t argue, and I listen to his heartbeat. I’m utterly lost in him, like the song just wrapping around us.
“I’m so glad I decided to write an ice hockey romance, because it led me to you,” I say, looking up at him, searching his eyes.
His forehead rests against mine. “Funny thing about fate,” he murmurs, brushing a thumb along my waist like I’m something precious.
“I didn’t even know I was missing something.
And now . . . I can’t imagine my life without you, princess.
” He presses a kiss to my forehead, holding me close, as if loving me is the easiest, sweetest thing he’s ever done.
Suddenly, he backs away. I blink, a little disoriented, until I see Torin standing behind him. Watching. Waiting.
“May I take her off your hands?” he asks, smooth as ever, his eyes fixed on mine.
I press a quick peck to Dylan’s lips, a flash of thanks and love in one act, and then I slide my hands into Torin’s.
I’m actually surprised. I didn’t think Torin would be interested in dancing, but as soon as he pulls me toward him, everything just falls into place.
His palms on my waist are firm, and he begins to sway with me.
The music slows down, receding from my consciousness as I sink deeper into his eyes, dark and full of so much meaning and depth.
“You don’t strike me as the dancing type,” I whisper softly between us.
He smiles. “I’ll dance when it’s worth it.” His grip tightens ever so slightly, firmly. “For the right person. For you, baby.”
My breath hitches for a second. I don’t know what to say. Honestly, I’m still shocked he can dance so well; his footwork is insanely smooth, way better than I expected.
Dylan catches my attention as he drifts toward the band, his hands shoved into his pockets, relaxed, like he’s got nothing to lose. He leans in and says something to the male singer — probably a song request.
The singer listens, nodding once, then shakes his head with an apologetic smile, lifting his hands like there’s nothing he can do. Dylan comes walking right up to us, looking totally bummed, like he just got the worst news in the world.
“They said they don’t know any Shakira songs,” he says, dead serious. “Everyone knows Shakira . . .” And then, without further comment, he just walks past us and plops back down in his chair at the table, defeated.
Torin lets out a low chuckle, and I feel the vibrations of it rumbling inside me. I start to laugh too. His hand returns to my waist as we continue to sway to the music.
I want to freeze this moment — right here, with Torin, with Dylan, with the music and the way everything finally feels right. I allow myself to drift languidly, my face against Torin’s chest, my eyes drifting randomly through the room, without intent. Candlelight becomes a blur.
And then, I see it.
A hand resting on a woman’s waist. Too familiar. On the back of it, clear as day: a four-leaf clover.
My stomach drops.
I gulp, my eyes blinking wildly, trying to shake off the image. I glance again, and it’s gone. Why the hell is Jason in my head right now, when I’m finally happy? When I’m safe? What the hell is wrong with me?
I feel that tiny voice inside my head telling me every pair of eyes in the restaurant is on me. Watching. Judging me for dancing with two men. Being with them.
I tell myself it’s in my head, but the weight of it presses in anyway, threatening to steal the moment if I let it. My footing falters a slight bit, but Torin catches it immediately, like he always does. His hands relax, lifting tentatively but firmly until he tilts my chin back to meet his eyes.
“Hey, baby,” he whispers, concern etched on his face. “You okay?”
“Yup . . .” I exhale too quickly. I paste on a smile, trying to squash the panic before it can bloom. “I’m fine.”
He doesn’t look like he believes me, but he doesn’t argue it either. The music fades into the background as he brings us to a standstill. He takes my hand and draws me aside, out of the crowd, out of the watching eyes.
“You wanna head home?” he says softly.
Relief washes over me. “Yes, please. I just need to go to the restroom first.”
“Alright, baby,” he says casually. “I’ll take care of the bill.”
But then I hesitate and swing back around to him. “Hey! I said I’d take you two out. That’s not fair.”
He begins to walk away, his fingers in his ears. “Can’t hear you. Lalala.”
“I’m giving you the cash later,” I shout out, but it’s no use.
As I turn to walk away, I smooth my hands down my dress. Each and every table I pass sounds like it’s too loud, too close. I’m pretty sure people are watching me, but I hold my head high and keep walking, refusing to let myself shrink away.
The corridor to the restrooms is swallowing me whole. It’s darker here, quieter, and I can feel the music as a distant thump in my feet.
“So the rumors are true.”
The cold hits my veins before my mind catches up. I know that voice. I hate that I do.
Everything in me resists, but I turn anyway, one dreadful inch at a time. Jason is standing there, hands shoved deep in his pockets, eyes fixed on me with a cold, brutal malevolence that always signifies he intends to hurt me.
I never wanted to be this close to him again. I should walk away, but I can’t move. I’m literally paralyzed, barely breathing.
“Two men at the same time. Jeez,” he says, curling his lip. “What kinda men would wanna be with you? It’s gotta be a joke.”
I’m shaking with emotion. “There’s no joke to it. Dylan and Torin are more manly to me than you ever were.”
He claps, slow and sarcastic. “That’s adorable. They’ve known you for a month or so? I’ve known you for years. I know who you truly are.” He glances down at my stomach. “Every pudgy part you work so hard to hide. Every scar on that disgusting stomach.”
The twist in my gut comes first, then the sting behind my eyes.
“Have they even seen you naked? Bet they think you look perfect under this dress,” he rambles, leaning in slightly. “But I’ve seen you naked, without the illusion.” He sneers. “Still wearing those compression panties? You always were so desperate to look smaller.”
He reaches for my hair, and I smack his hand away, panic flaring.
“You even tried to make your hair less frizzy,” he scoffs. “Like that’ll fix it. Oh, Fawn . . . you never had any real sex appeal. When we were together, watching you try was painful and embarrassing. I feel sorry for . . . What’re their names? Dylan and Tor—”
“Fuck you, Jason!” I shoot back, the words ripping out of me. “You don’t deserve to say their names. They give me everything you never did. They care. They listen. They show up. I don’t have to beg to be seen. You could never be like them.”
His face scrunches as he steps closer, pressing me into the wall. He towers over me, choking me with his presence until I can smell his overpowering aftershave.
“Men will say anything to get laid,” he whispers viciously. “Think about it, Fawn. All the women in Ivywood. Slim, flawless stomachs, beautiful.” His eyes flick down at me. “And they chose you? Easy, that’s why.”
The tears take over completely.
“You’re a joke,” he continues, savoring every word. “This little fantasy? It won’t last. When do you see three people walking down the street? You don’t. Maybe you should get that through that thick skull of yours.”
I glance desperately down the hallway, praying to see Torin or Dylan, anyone. But it’s empty.
Jason grabs my face, forcing me to look at him. My legs shake violently now.
“You’re nothing,” he whispers into my ear. “Do you hear me? Nothing. No one could truly ever love you.”
Something inside me snaps. “And yet, you still try to talk to me.”
His jaw tightens as anger flashes in his eyes, and he squeezes my cheeks, dragging a finger across my lips. “Think they’ll want you after I’m done with you, Fawn?”
My heart sprints ahead of me, and I brace myself for what is about to come. All the years we were together, he never once laid a hand on me, but something in his eyes tonight is different. I’m petrified, every limb shaking, tears now falling down my cheeks. I slap his hand away.
“Get off me,” I say loudly, my voice echoing down the hall, hoping someone, anyone, will hear me. Suddenly, I hear footsteps, and to my surprise, Harper rounds the corner. I’ve never been so happy to see her.
Jason leaps back with a sinister chuckle, as if the whole thing was just a joke. I wipe my face with the back of my hand.
“Everything okay, Jason?” she asks in an overly sweet voice.
That question hits me in the chest.
What the fuck?
“Yeah,” he says smoothly, taking her hand. “Come on. I don’t want to be associated with the trash in this place. Especially Ivywood’s local slut.”
They walk away, laughing. Of course Harper is his type. I would love to warn her, but they deserve each other.
I don’t even go to the bathroom. My sight blurs, and colors bleed into each other.
I turn and stumble back down the hallway on instinct alone.
My legs move, but I can hardly feel the floor beneath me.
What I am is hollow from the inside out — as if Jason reached inside me and tore open something that never closed.