Chapter 39
Chapter Thirty-Nine
DUSTIN
I knew she was asleep before her head landed on my shoulder. First, she went quiet on me, but I thought she was just enjoying the calm between us like I was. I wasn’t drunk like everyone thought. I was just really enjoying the time with my brother. It’s something we’ve never been able to experience. I kept myself away and shut off from everyone and lost out on so much. I intend to restore what I can.
Even with this woman next to me. I want to fight for her, but it feels so wrong when she’s married. I despise the idea of stealing another man’s woman. And I hate the idea of putting her in that predicament even more. I know how big her heart is. I know how much she always wants to do what’s right. Do I give her an ultimatum that’s eventually going to hurt someone? One where she knows, no matter the outcome, she’ll be inflicting some sort of pain?
She already has too much she’s dealing with. Brian. Was everything I did to protect him for nothing? Am I now the reason she’s suffering?
It just doesn’t seem fair. But do I just lie low and not show her she’s worth fighting for? Do I just pretend the last thirteen years have meant nothing…that the months we were together and what we shared meant nothing? All I know is I can’t walk back into her life and just be like, “BAM! Time to make a choice.”
I contemplate these thoughts as I sit, enjoying the closeness of her leaning against me—not to mention the light snores that escape every now and again. I can only imagine how truly exhausted she must be. I want to stay like this all night, soak it up for as long as I possibly can. What I really want is to be able to experience this nearness while she’s awake. But when it’s like this, it’s innocent. It’s subconscious.
For now, I’ll take what I can get. And what I’m getting from something as simple as this is that after all this time, she’s still drawn to me. That in itself is a victory.
As much as I’m loving this, I need to put her in bed. She needs all the rest she can get. Emotional exhaustion is worse than physical, and she’s dealing with both. I don’t want the closeness to end. I want to be selfish, but when it comes to her, it’s impossible.
I slowly pull myself away from her, steadying her head with my hand. I get on my feet but stay crouched. I slide my left arm behind her back, pulling her into me so that her head rests against my chest. She makes a few noises but doesn’t wake. I push my right arm under her legs, wrapping it around to pull her snuggly against me. Once I know I fully have her, I push up.
Using the tip of my shoe, I fling the screen door open. I don’t fully walk in because I don’t want it slamming behind us. I hold my foot out, letting the door catch on it, slowly allowing it to close behind me. The house is brightly lit. Pretty sure the girls have every damn light on. I make my way to the couch and carefully lay her down. I’d put her in bed, but it’s broken and I don’t want her rolling out of it. The other two rooms have beds, but with them just being painted, I feel the couch is the safer choice.
I unzip her sandals before pulling the quilt over that’s hanging off the back of the couch. She looks so peaceful. I pray for the day I can slip in behind her and hold her all night. I know I’d actually be able to sleep with her in my arms. The effect she has on me is unexplainable. But something about her evens me out, grounds me, and excites me all at once.
I brush the hair off her face, pushing it behind her ear. I lean in and press my lips against her forehead. I’m treading on dangerous territory. But hey, it’s something I’m good at.
“I wish you were mine,” I whisper as I reluctantly pull away from her.
“Me too,” she mumbles as she turns to her side.
I turn all the lights out except the hall and lock up behind me. I gather the trash from dinner and toss it into the bin on the side of the house. I need to get back to my parents’ house so I can shower and get some shut-eye, but my mind is on high alert, and I know I won’t be able to sleep. Instead, I begin to finish what Dax and I barely started tonight. That guy can be such a distraction. One I welcome these days.
THE PORCH LIGHT is on when I get to the house. I really hope no one is awake. I slowly turn the knob, thankful it’s unlocked. I would have slept on the porch before I rang the doorbell. The lamp in the entryway is on, and I shut and lock the door behind me. It’s quiet, almost too quiet. I turn to head up the stairs.
“Dustin,” I hear, and I silently curse. So close.
“Yeah.” I step back and turn toward the door that leads to my dad’s office.
“You doin’ all right?” my father asks hesitantly, worried, and guilt slaps me in the back of the head, calling me a fool.
“Yes. Just dealing with a lot of stuff.”
“Understandable,” he says, standing up and making his way to me. “We know this isn’t easy for you.” I go to speak, but he stops me. “All of it. Not just the wound. We know your world has been flipped upside down. I can’t imagine how you’re feeling about everything. But all I do know is that we love you. We will always be here for you, no matter what you face. Please, don’t shut us out, son,” he pleads, placing his hand on my shoulder.
“Okay.” I nod. “I won’t,” I promise.
He grips my shoulder as he pulls me into him. I stand with my arms at my sides, trying to wrap my mind around what’s happening. It’s been so long since I’ve received a hug from my dad. My arms begin to move up, embracing him much like he is me. He tightens his grip, and I can’t help but do the same as I feel his body tremble against mine.
What have I done to the ones who love me the most?
I pat his back and then peel myself away. I don’t want to allow myself to get emotional. I want to shower and hit the sack, and I tell him that’s what I’m going to do as I turn away to head up the stairs. After grabbing a towel out of the hall closet, I close myself in the bathroom. I pull back the curtain and turn the shower on, undressing as the steam begins to fill the room.
I pull off the dressing over my arm and inspect the area. I haven’t really done so since the incident. I’ve known it was gone. What was the point of really looking at the damage? That had been my mindset. But for some reason, I feel the need to change that. I was expecting what I see to sicken me, but it doesn’t. The scars from the stitching are barely visible and I question why I’ve been keeping it covered if it’s fully healed. Has it been because I didn’t want others to see it, or because I wanted to keep it hidden from myself?
I step into the shower and my body stiffens at the heat prickling it. Pushing myself fully under the stream of water, I welcome the warmth. It’s relaxing as it cascades down my body. I reach over and grab the body soap my mother must’ve bought. I use my thumbnail to push the lid up and squirt some onto my chest since I don’t have my other hand now. You never realize how much you needed both hands until you’re left with one.
I can’t help but think of Echo and how I spent basically the entire day with her. My mind begins to wander to the short shorts she was wearing and the fitted tank that showcased just how well she’s filled out over the years. I shake my head of the thoughts, knowing I’d much rather wait for the real thing.