Chapter 23 #2
I smile, taking some well-needed air. “Hi, I’m toxic femininity. I like men that are docile enough to manipulate. Care to spend an evening with me and my gaslighting to see if you actually want to stay?”
He shakes his head, grumbling under his breath about me being adorable . I blush at that. A large group pushes us to start walking and we do.
“Since when has kissing my woman’s hand considered toxic?” He raises a brow.
“Since—” Hold on a minute. Someone ahead glares over their shoulder when my toes nudge their heel out of their shoe. I apologize profusely before whipping my head to look at Dean. “ Your woman?”
He wraps an arm over my shoulder. “Take your time.” He’s smirking. Evil. Villainous. Sexy as hell .
“You called me… You just… Stop it.” I cup my heated cheeks.
“Who knew Nova Rivera could blush over being called my woman.” Blushing isn’t the right word. I’m erupting with magma.
“Shut up.” Before I can shove him, he closes in on me. His palm brands against my back and pulls me closer to him.
He lifts a hand to cup my cheek. Dean traces my lips with the pad of his thumb.
“I’m sure you could find ways to make me,” he rasps.
And that shuts me up.
Dean’s smile makes my insides do circus flips.
It takes a minute for my heart to deflate into its regular shape. The image of him, his deep yet hidden dimple, all come to me as capitalism came to society. All I can do is accept and adapt.
“If I knew all it would take was for me to say I like you for you to open up, I would’ve done it sooner.” I say.
“Do you want me to stop?” He pulls away like my skin burns him.
“No!” I grab his wrist. “I like this version of you, Dean. In fact,” his wrist is warm when I kiss it. “I like every version of you.”
A white-as-snow teddy bear catches my attention through a window. It’s a small shop with a narrow entrance. Dean doesn’t say anything when I pause to look at it.
The bear is a good size for tiny hands.
Our reflection in the window shows him standing behind me. His chest brushes against my back and I relax my shoulders.
“Do you think a baby would like that?” I point at its fluffiness.
Dean scruffs his beard, “Not sure. Haven’t done much talking with newborns, why?”
“Just thinking about getting it for my sister.” He doesn’t ask but I still say, “She’s due in two months.”
He nods like he knows what that’s like.
“It’s weird, knowing that I’m going to be someone’s aunt.” I stare mindlessly at the white fur. There’s a heart sewn into the denim overalls, it’s adorable. “I’m going to love him or her, but I’m… scared.”
“What are you afraid of?”
Scenarios play in my head. Nadine giving birth, the kid growing up, us growing apart, moving on with our lives like we didn’t spend the first half of it together.
“Being replaced, I guess.” I shake my head because it’s stupid coming from a twenty-four-year-old.
“That sounds wrong. I meant that I’ve always been the so-called baby of my family like all youngest children.
Ate —Nadine—isn’t just my sister. She’s my best friend and a second mother.
To think that one day… one day, I’ll be referred to as her kid’s aunt and not her best friend—it sounds terrible, I know—but how do you expect me to go my whole life wrapped inside her arms to one day no longer be able to feel them? ”
A minute. Two. Maybe three passes.
“You’re jealous.”
Anyone else might get defensive. “I am,” I’m ashamed of it but it’s true. “My sisters made sure that I never noticed the love I was missing from my parents. They loved me with all they had, and I loved them back tenfold. It’ll all change when she has her family.”
Dean leaves shivers in his wake when he runs it down my back. “She’ll have a new addition, someone she’ll love wholeheartedly. But you will always be her family first. That love never dims.”
Time to change the subject.
“Speaking from experience, Dean?” I tease. “Being the oldest brother and all that.”
He studies me. Probably wondering why I’m changing the topic. Guess what, ogre. I learned from older siblings like you. Deflecting or whatever.
“Something like that,” he gruffly says.
“Is that why you didn’t tell Azar or Callahan that you’re here? ”
He clenches his jaw, then moves us away from the swarm of tourists.
“Azar told me,” I confirm his suspicions. I didn’t want to bring it up, but when Azar bombarded me with questions about how Dean was on call the other day, I can’t help it.
“He didn’t need to know.”
Cold stone burns through my clothes.
“Really? Or you didn’t want to burden him with you leaving again?”
His head whips so fast to look at me.
It’s a risk asking him personal questions.
When I think he’ll tell me to quit it or walk away, he surprises me.
“After getting out of prison, Azar checked up on me every night to make sure I was there. As grown up as he is, he was only twenty. I’ve seen him look for me in crowds or during holidays constantly, I didn’t want him thinking I was leaving for good. ”
“Okay,” I’m confused. “That was then, and this is now. Siblings should share everything with each other. Believe it or not, but we want you to share the heavy load with us.”
“This isn’t a heavy load. It’s me going on a dating show. Azar didn’t need to know.” He sounds impatient. “And Cal knows where I am.”
“Tell Callahan everything and not Azar?” I rest my head against the stone and close my eyes. “Isn’t it a little hypocritical for you to comfort me about my sisters when you’re being the same way with Azar?”
I feel him move closer to me. “My brothers are my first priority, Nova. Sometimes we act in certain ways to keep you guys from spiralling.”
I take a deep breath. “I understand that. But I don’t get why you can’t confide in us. You say you love us—would kill for us—but when the time to share your feelings comes around, you disappear.”
“It’s because only we can help ourselves.”
“What you’re not getting,” I open my eyes to look at Dean. “Is that all we want from you is to rest your heads on our shoulders. That’s the only way you’d be helping us.”
“Know that your efforts never go unnoticed,” Dean responds.
It’s an eye-opening conversation for both of us. The oldest son and the youngest daughter talking to each other. We may not understand how the other truly feels, because it’s a mission turning the gears of someone’s mind to spill out its guts.
We stand in silence. Watch the crowd for a while.
Dean manages to ask, “Why’d you come here, Nova?”
This is meant to be a fun, first date. I started the deep conversations, and I can get us out of it. Looking around for dramatic effect, “Oh, well technically I was dragged to Zermatt by a roguishly handsome man?—”
He laughs, “You know what I mean.”
It’s rough and scratchy, like it’s been hidden in a cave of his vocal cords far too long.
There’s a melodic ring to it. An old song that plays on the radio twenty years later, or when you walk into a warm home after spending hours in the snow.
He’s hot cocoa and warmth swaddled beneath my chest and it’s making me realize Dean isn’t a grump after all.
My astonishment and awe is interrupted by the sound fading out.
Dean covers his mouth. “What?”
“You laughed,” my lips twitch. “I’ve never heard you laugh before.”
His gaze softens. “I’m comfortable around you.”
All of me turns to mush .
No confession can beat the feeling of peace or comfort.
I make a mental note to buy baby clothes instead of a sentimental gift.
Somehow we’re walking again. Turning on another street. We end up on a secluded street. There’s an old man reading a newspaper on his balcony, a woman hanging clothes out to dry, and someone baking bread somewhere. It’s a childhood fantasy within one shot. Dreams do come true.
Dean’s an oceanic presence. He’s the first coat you grab when the news tells you there’s going to be the first universal sighting in over fifty years. I love that I get to be with him without the pressure of being too much or too little.
He’s walking slow and I know it’s for me because those long, thick legs are not made for this pace. Dean’s physique is made, practiced, and rehearsed. He’s a new instrument everyone tries to master, but only rare people end up perfecting it.
His shirt stretches with each breath he takes.
Gosh, how I wish I was that shirt.
To feel his skin against me. The taut muscles and how they’d move above me.
Call me horny but blame him.
I wonder how he got them.
“ Question ,” I start. “And feel free to refuse answering, but what’d you do in prison?”
He stops walking.
Oh god. Shoot. Me and my stupid mouth asking the wrong questions.
Dean surprises me by laughing again .
“What’s so funny?” I’m genuinely confused.
“Out of everything,” he wipes beneath his eye. “You ask me about hobbies and not why I was there?”
“It’s weird asking that considering when I first met you and your brothers, Callahan seemed the most likely to go to prison.”
Dean goes quiet. His muscles stretch in a painful way. His neck stiffens. “What makes you say that?”
“As broody as you are, Callahan has that vibe to him.” Nervously laughing, “Plus, he scares me.”
Then I lengthen my strides to get away from him.
Dean grabs my wrist, pulling me to him.
His chest meets my back, I gasp. “The only time you should have your back towards me is on a bed with your face down on a pillow, do you understand?”
Holy.
I swallow hard, licking my bottom lip. Here I was thinking that Dean’s this innocent, soft, macho-ish man. But my goodness…
The mouth on him?
Call an ambulance, I can feel a heartbeat in my ears.
“Yes, sir.” It’s quiet, submissive.
But he hums in approval.
“Now,” he laces our hands together and takes the lead walking. “I read a lot in prison.”
I turn my head to look back at where we just were. So, we’re gonna ignore whatever that was? Alright then.