Chapter 28
KRISTA
Igrabbed my duffel from the bedroom Dash and I had been sharing and hauled it up the stairs to the second bedroom. It had a smaller balcony but was still just as luxurious, not that I needed luxury. A cot would have been fine.
I dumped my bag on the bed and unpacked the few things I would need to get through the rest of the week. I was so ready to get back home and pick up my next job. I needed to get away from him. I couldn’t think straight around Dash.
I stripped out of the clothes that were damp with sweat. It had been hot and humid and I needed a shower. I washed away the sweat and dust from the production site. Washing away the memory of Dash’s hands on me. The way he’d looked at me when he said he was falling in love with me.
I had panicked. That was what had happened. He’d said those words and every alarm in my head had gone off at once. Because I was falling for him too, and that terrified me more than anything I’d faced in my entire life.
I could not fall in love. I definitely couldn’t fall in love with a man like him. He would love me and leave me. I didn’t have what it took to keep him entertained and interested forever. I knew that. Dash was hot for me now because it was new, but he’d want the hot models again one day.
I wrapped myself in a towel and stood in front of the mirror, looking at my reflection. Who was this woman staring back at me? Not the soldier. Not the logistics expert. Not even the woman who sung karaoke and wore dresses and let herself be swept away on a yacht.
Just me. Scared and alone and completely lost.
I pulled on my Army T-shirt and a pair of cotton shorts, then grabbed my phone and went out to the balcony. The sun was setting, creating a fabulous display of color across the sky. It should have been beautiful. It just made me feel emptier.
I dialed my dad’s number. I needed to talk to someone that was real. Someone that loved me unconditionally and didn’t care if I wore makeup or dresses.
“Krista! Sweetheart, how’s Greece?”
“It’s good, Dad. How are you?”
“Oh, you know me. Same old, same old. Just got back from the clubhouse, actually. You’ll never guess who I ran into.”
I settled into the chair, grateful for the distraction of his familiar voice. “Who?”
“Remember Carson Webb? From West Point?”
Carson. We’d been in the same class during training. Smart, capable, always two steps ahead of everyone else. “Yeah, I remember Carson.”
“His mom just moved into the complex. He was helping her get settled. We got to talking and I mentioned you were still in logistics and operations, kicking ass and taking names.” He chuckled. “He said to tell you he’s glad you’re still out there doing your thing.”
“That’s nice of him.”
“He’s a mortgage broker now. Can you believe it? Said he got tired of the structure, wanted something with more flexibility. He’s got twin girls on the way. His wife’s about ready to pop.”
Twin girls. A wife. A normal life with roots and a mortgage and probably a house with a white picket fence.
“That’s great for him,” I managed.
“Yeah, he seemed really happy. Settled, you know?” Dad paused. “You sound tired, sweetheart. Everything okay over there?”
No. Nothing was okay. I’d fallen in love with a man I couldn’t have and I’d hurt him to protect myself and now I was sitting alone on a balcony in Greece feeling sorry for myself.
“I’m fine, Dad. Just a long day on site. The runway show is in two days.”
“You’ll knock it out of the park. You always do.” His pride was evident in his voice. “I’m proud of you, Krista. Your mom would be too.”
That almost broke me. I pressed my fingers to my eyes, willing myself not to cry. “Thanks, Dad. I should let you go. Enjoy your afternoon.”
“Love you, sweetheart.”
“Love you too.”
I ended the call and sat there staring at my phone. People my age were moving on. Settling down. Starting families. And here I was, still running from one contract to the next, keeping everyone at arm’s length because it was easier than risking my heart.
On impulse, I scrolled through my contacts and found Dana’s number. My finger hovered over it for a long moment before I hit call.
She answered with surprise in her tone. “Krista? Hey! Is everything okay?”
Of course she’d assume something was wrong. I had not talked to her in forever.
“Hey, Dana. Yeah, everything’s fine.”
I opened my mouth to tell her everything. About Dash and how I felt like I was drowning and didn’t know how to save myself.
But the words wouldn’t come. Because Dana and I weren’t those kinds of friends anymore. We’d been close once. A long time ago. But I’d let that friendship fade, too busy with work to maintain it. Too closed off to let anyone in.
“I’m sorry,” I said finally. “I think I called the wrong number. I meant to dial someone else.”
“Okay,” she said. “Well, call when you have a chance.”
“I will. Talk soon.”
“Take care of yourself, Krista.”
I ended the call and set my phone on the table beside me. I stared out at the sky and hated that I was in paradise and miserable. I was alone. Completely, utterly alone. And I had no one to blame but myself.
I’d built walls so high and so thick that no one could get through them. Not my father, not my friends, not even Dash. I’d convinced myself it was necessary. Vulnerability was weakness and letting people in meant getting hurt.
I realized the truth. I was already hurt. I’d been hurt since the day my mother died. At some point in the days following her death, I decided the safest thing to do was never let anyone matter that much again.
And now I had hurt the one person who’d actually managed to scale those walls. I’d called him a whore. I diminished what we’d shared. I’d broken his heart to protect my own. That made me a coward.
I drew my knees up to my chest and wrapped my arms around my legs, making myself as small as possible. The sea stretched out before me, endless and dark, reflecting the last remnants of sunset. I was sitting in one of the most beautiful places in the world, and all I could feel was hollow.
Dash was downstairs. So close and yet so far away he might as well have been on another continent. A tear slid down my cheek before I could stop it. I wiped it away roughly with the back of my hand, angry at myself for the weakness. I’d made my choice. I’d done what needed to be done.
But God, it hurt.
I wished I could be different. Wished I could be the kind of woman who could take the risk, who could believe that someone like Dash Blackwell might actually love someone like me for longer than a few weeks.
Wished I could silence the voice in my head that kept telling me he’d wake up one day and realize I wasn’t worth the effort.
Because that’s what would happen. I knew it in my bones.
We’d go back to New York, and he’d see me in my real life.
In my sterile apartment with its gray walls and lack of personality.
He’d watch me go through my rigid routines, see how I had no friends to speak of, no hobbies, no interests outside of work.
He’d realize there was nothing charming about a woman who ate the same breakfast every morning and went running at dawn because structure was the only thing keeping her together.
The woman he’d fallen for on that yacht, singing under the stars wasn’t real.
She was a fantasy version of me that I’d let myself become for a week.
But I couldn’t sustain her. Eventually, the real me would emerge, and he’d be disappointed.
I could never keep him entertained. He traveled.
I traveled. Eventually, the distance would get to us.
Better to end it now. Cleaner this way. Less painful in the long run.
Even if it felt like my chest was being crushed.
I sat there until the sky went completely dark and the stars came out.
I was hungry, but I didn’t dare go downstairs.
I forced myself to stand and go inside. I had a couple of protein bars in my bag.
That would suffice until tomorrow. I couldn’t face him.
I was embarrassed and ashamed of my behavior earlier.
Tomorrow I’d put my professional mask back on. I’d do my job, help him pull off this runway show, and make sure everything ran smoothly. That’s what I was good at. That’s what I knew how to do.
And then I’d go home and start the process of forgetting what it felt like to be in his arms. I’d go back to my contracts and my routines and my carefully controlled life. I was never taking a job like this one again. Only the ugliest, oldest clients.
Eventually, it would stop hurting.
I crawled into the unfamiliar bed in the smaller bedroom and pulled the covers up to my chin.
The sheets smelled like lavender. Not him.
I wanted the smell of him smacking me in the face.
I liked the feeling of him holding me. His presence was so comforting.
It was like I could just put my guard down and be a normal person for five minutes.
I closed my eyes and tried not to think about him sleeping alone one floor below me. Tried not to imagine him lying awake, hating me for what I’d said. Or how I’d hurt him.
But sleep was a long time coming, and when it finally did, my dreams were all about him.