Chapter 18
CHAPTER 18
Kurt
Derek Hawkins walked away.
“Good luck,” was all he’d said when he’d come up, but before Kurt could ask what the hell he meant by that, the man had simply turned and strode off toward the door.
Good luck? How was he supposed to take that?
He turned to look at Dana, and she gazed back, waiting, her face emotionless.
Your move, champ.
He took the stairs and crossed the space separating them until he came up to the stool Derek had vacated less than a minute ago. When he got there, he felt Dana studying him, and rather than meet that gaze full on, he glanced at the bar top, noticing her empty glass.
“Can I get you another bourbon?”
She narrowed her eyes. “How’d you know?”
“Oh, c’mon, Dana…”
“Okay”—she held up her hand—“fair enough. I suppose by now you’d know what I drink.” She gestured to the tumbler. “I’m fine, though, thank you.”
Now he did meet her gaze, and they both contemplated each other for a long moment.
“So… now what?” she asked quietly.
“So, now we talk.”
“Okay,” was all she said, waiting for him to respond.
“Can I assume you’ll agree to discuss what we spoke about earlier?”
“I’ll agree to hear what you have to say, and we can negotiate from there,” she replied.
“So, you’re not going to just walk away?”
“Oh my God…” She pinched the br idge of her nose. “Did I say anything about that? Did I give any indication that’s what I was going to do? I wasn’t the one who threatened to leave, Kurt!”
“You’re right, you weren’t. But that doesn’t mean after everything I put you through tonight you couldn’t have. I mean honestly, if you had, no one would blame you. I know I certainly wouldn’t have.”
“Don’t you think you’ve been dramatic enough for one night…”
“I’m not trying to be dra?—”
She waved away his protest. “Fine. Then explain why you did what you did tonight.”
“Because I felt like I didn’t have a choice.”
Dana rolled her head. “Oh, c’mon, Kurt.”
He grimaced before continuing. “Dana, name me one time I’ve told you not to do something—and I mean something dangerous, where you could’ve gotten seriously hurt—that you didn’t push back and do exactly what you wanted anyways.” He held his finger up in a jerking motion. “One time.”
“I had my reasons. I know my methods are unorthodox and not?—”
“Easy to deal with?”
“Sure. For some people I suppose they aren’t.”
“Trust me, they aren’t, and I’m not the only one who feels that way.” He glanced away for a moment, not ready to broach a subject he was sure would only make her more defensive. “Listen, easy or not, after tonight, here’s the thing I need you to understand: you can always act on your impulses, whatever your reasoning, no different than you have in the past. But moving forward—should you choose to accept what I’m proposing—you’ll need to know that there’ll be consequences if you decide to go through with something I’ve asked you not to, especially if that something goes south.”
“I’ll have to accept your discipline,” she replied.
He gazed into a pair of eyes that looked back with a forced coolness that seemed almost mocking but hid something else, too, beneath the surface.
Fear.
“Yes, Dana. Accept my discipline. And my punishment.”
She pushed a strand of hair that had escaped her ponytail back behind her ear. “I just… this all seems so…”
“Wrong?”
“No,” she said tightly, shaking her head. “Just…”
“Frustrating?”
“Yes,” she replied softly. “That, and…” She gazed down into her empty glass.
“It makes you nervous, doesn’t it? To have someone care enough about you to hold you accountable for what you do.”
She snapped up her head, and a long second passed before she whispered, “Yes.”
“Because you’ve never had that before, have you?” Kurt pressed. “You’ve always been so good at what you do no one has ever stopped to question your methods, hold you responsible for your actions, have they?”
“No. And my results speak for themselves.” Her tone was less defensive than it was almost a plea.
“Yes, they do. Including those broken ribs in Argentina, and the bruises from the other day that are still there.”
“You’re never going to let me live that down, are you?” she replied with a tiny, rueful smile .
“No, because I can’t forget how I felt every time you put yourself in harm’s way.”
Dana picked up the empty tumbler in front of her as if it still held something she could bring to her lips. Another second went by before she slowly lowered it back, turning her gaze to his. “Okay, Kurt. I’m here, and I’m… listening. So, what next?”
He heaved out a sigh. “God, I wish I knew the answer to that.” Now he wished he had a drink himself, because this was the path forward, and despite all he and Derek had discussed, right now it seemed a lot less unerring than it had when they were talking.
“So,” he began, “first thing you need to know is that if you ever do anything like you did in Argentina or the sapphire mine again, they’re going to fire you.”
Dana’s eyes went wide. “ What ? You”—she thrust her hand toward him—“you can’t make that a condition of this negotiation! You’re not Gary!”
“No, but before we came out here, he made it clear that’s the stance the company is taking. The underwriters are leaning heavy on the board because despite all that you bring to the table, they see nothing but potential risk.” Kurt tapped the counter gently. “Gary’s asked me for years to do what I can to try and keep you from endangering yourself, and God knows I’ve tried, but now it’s not in either of our hands. You’re on thin ice with McKerr-Dennison, and unless we can work this through...”
She opened her mouth as he spoke, and when he trailed off, she cried, “Dammit, Kurt! Why didn’t you lead with that! Why didn’t you tell me this before?”
“Because I didn’t want you to get angry and do something rash like I suspect you would,” he answered with a shrug .
“Like… what!”
“Storm off,” he replied evenly. “Quit.”
She gaped at him.
“You would have. You know it.”
Slowly, she closed her mouth. “Maybe.”
“No, Dana, not maybe.”
“What is it with people telling me they know what I’m going to do before I even do it?”
“For me?” Kurt spread his hand. “That’s easy: because I know you. Being with someone for seven years will do that.”
Dana pressed her lips together tightly before responding. “I suppose it will. But don’t forget”—she pointed at him—“I know things about you, too. Are you really sure you want to go through with this? Derek told me this wouldn’t be easy, and he gave us a less than a fifty-fifty chance of succeeding?—”
He said what?
“—and he’s right.”
“Less than a fifty-fifty chance…” Derek hadn’t said anything like that to him, and while Dana had accused Kurt of being dramatic, that prediction seemed a hundred times more so.
But he’s not wrong, is he?
Dana had once said, “everything in life worth doing takes risk,” and Kurt had never felt it truer than in this moment. Because here she was saying Derek Hawkins gave them less than a fifty-fifty chance of making it, and yet despite that, he still knew there was only one way forward.
“I don’t have a choice,” he replied, staring into Dana’s eyes. “Because unless we try, there’s a one hundred percent chance we won’t be together. ”
Her throat worked as she swallowed, a sensation he’d felt himself more than once the past twenty-four hours.
Don’t press too hard. Remember, she’s gonna be like a spring colt after being given her first bit. You’ll need to go easy, give her time…
Derek’s words pushed past Kurt’s emotions. He rose from his stool, gazing down into her face. “I know we still have a lot to talk about, but I think this is enough for now.”
He wanted to reach for her, kiss her, take her in his arms and hold her. Right now, though, that was as much for himself as it was for her. What he should be thinking of was where she was emotionally, not what he wanted to salve his own nerves.
“Good night, Dana,” he said softly, beginning to turn away.
She grabbed his arm. “Don’t leave me alone. Please.”
Kurt stopped and slowly turned back to face her. “I thought you might need some time to yourself to think things through.”
“I do. And I will,” she replied softly, “but not tonight.” She squeezed his arm. “And I want to make it clear to you right now, we’re not going back to my room to fuck. I just… I just want to be with you.” The look on her face was both imploring and a demand. “Do you understand?”
He stepped close, his voice equally as soft. “Actually, probably more than you realize.”
He slipped his hand into hers, lacing their fingers together. Tugging her gently, she rose off her stool and followed him as he drew her away from the bar and out of the Dungeon. Wordlessly, they passed through the lobby then down the hall until he stopped in front of her room. She pulled out her keycard and opened the door, and they both entered. For the briefest of moments Kurt thought to speak, to ask one of the thousand questions racing through his head, but as he stood watching, Dana dropped the keycard on her dresser and slowly began undressing. He stopped himself; words weren’t necessary right now. In fact, words were an imposition. There was already so much that had been said, and while there was still so much more needed, it could wait. For now, this—what was taking place as he began to remove his own clothes—was enough.
Dana shed the last of her things and moved to the bed, sliding beneath the covers. As Kurt tugged off his briefs, it was impossible to hide his erection, so he didn’t try. She’d said they weren’t going to fuck tonight, and—honestly—for the first time in his relationship with Dana he wasn’t thinking of that. He suspected that much like himself, right now what she wanted wasn’t a fuckbuddy, but a friend. Someone to share her bed who cared for her in ways that went far beyond sex. To hold and cherish and comfort and be present in the moment with someone in a form of intimacy that went far beyond anything sex could.
He closed the few steps to the bed, pulled back the comforter, and eased himself beneath the sheets until he was nestled beside her. Once he was there, she skootched back, spooning into him, pressing into his erection in a way that seemed less wanton and more an acknowledgement. To Kurt, it was recognition that this may have been where their relationship had started, but it certainly wasn’t all it had become, nor the end.
Kurt had no real sense of how long they’d lain there before Dana softly broke the quiet. “This. This has always been so good between us, hasn’t it? ”
“Yes, it has,” he replied gently.
“But it wasn’t enough, was it?”
Her words could’ve created tension within him, but there was something in the way she said it that did the exact opposite. There was acknowledgment in her tone, an understanding that carried, if not comfort, at least hope.
“In the sense that I could overlook everything else? No. Like I explained, I couldn’t any longer.” He pushed up on an elbow, and Dana rolled to him, gazing into his face. “Was it enough for you?”
Reaching, she stroked his cheek. “Oh, come on, Kurt,” she replied gently. “Look around you. After everything that happened tonight, think about where are we right now . What we’re doing.” She gave him a smile both tender and chiding. “I’m pretty sure you know the answer to your question.”
“You’re right. At least I’d like to think I do.” Looking into the pair of glistening dark brown eyes that gazed back at him, he recognized if nothing else was clear for the moment—nothing else certain—at least one thing was: tonight wasn’t an end.
It was a beginning.