Chapter Twenty
Twenty
YOST, UT
I wasn’t ready to leave Utah, so I cashed in a detour.
We spent another day exploring Provo before heading to a rental Dex had found near the Idaho border.
We ordered takeout and watched a movie (Phoebe’s pick of Saw had Dex complaining incessantly while I watched from behind a pillow), and once I was sure Phoebe was asleep, I snuck down the hall to Dex’s room.
If Phoebe was suspicious, she didn’t let on. She seemed thrilled that I had chosen a detour, and she even discovered a lookout with an amazing view she wanted us to visit along the way. Now, though, it seemed like the route was merely a suggestion, not necessarily meant to be followed.
Oregon loomed, too close for comfort. The stakes felt higher.
Phoebe still believed in a happily ever after.
I was half in love with Dex. And he seemed to be on the same page, but I couldn’t help the fear popping into my brain like a monster in a haunted house: Dex taking one look at Catalina and snapping into the mindset he’d been in when he wrote that letter.
You’re everything, Cat. I’ll love you forever.
We went on this trip because he needed her to have those words.
His dedication to handing over that letter meant something and I was pretty sure it wasn’t just closure.
But then he’d kiss me. He’d whisper sweet words into my neck, my stomach, between my thighs.
He let me catch him looking in the car, miles-long traffic spent in a staring contest. He made sure the rental had three bedrooms and he let me cling to him all night.
And in the morning, after slow, sleepy sex, he told me he wanted to make breakfast, and it felt like he’d offered me the world rather than some scrambled eggs.
“Did we know he could cook?” Phoebe asked, shooting the kitchen entryway a wary look, as if Dex had been swapped out for a clone overnight.
“Nope,” I said, my eyes locked on the arched path leading into the kitchen. Every once in a while, Dex would drift into frame, whisking something.
“We’ve had every meal with him for the last week and he didn’t think to mention it? What else can he cook? Is it just breakfast or have we been missing out on everything?” She shifted on the couch to face me, her expression turning serious. “Vi. What if he can bake?”
I imagined Dex in an apron and immediately shoved the thought away. Too inappropriate with my sister’s eyes on me.
“There’s so much we don’t know about him,” she said. “He keeps the weirdest things secret. Why couldn’t we know he lived in Chicago? Why didn’t he tell us he could cook? How is he so rich? What sort of monster says ‘neither’ when you ask if they’re a dog or cat person?”
A tiny wave of unease lapped at my mind.
I didn’t know the answers, either, and if I asked, I couldn’t guarantee he’d offer them.
Sometimes it’s just hard to get the words out.
I’d told him to take all the time he needed and I meant it, but that didn’t make it easier to exist on the outside of a locked door.
“He was screwing with you on the dog or cat question,” I said and she made a dubious face. “He’s a private person, Bee. Give him time.”
“Hmm.” She reached for the remote and switched the TV on. “Whatever.”
I watched her flip through the channels as the thick scent of bacon barreled in from the kitchen.
The rental was a quaint Cape Cod–style house with a large garden, only a short ride to the lookout Phoebe wanted to visit.
I’d thought the house was a bit underwhelming, but now I had to appreciate the compartmentalized floor plan.
“Be right back,” I said, hopping to my feet.
Phoebe nodded, eyes locked on the screen.
When I entered the kitchen, Dex was tending a sizzling pan on the stove and steam screamed from a waffle maker on the counter.
Three plates littered the marble island, dressed with sliced strawberries. “Wow,” I said. “This is impressive.”
Dex glanced over his shoulder. “Is it?”
“You’re like Gordon Ramsay or something.” He turned his attention to the bacon, flipping it with tongs. I made my way over, leaning into his shoulder. “Phoebe’s aghast. She can’t believe you didn’t tell us you can cook.”
“She didn’t ask.”
“So, this isn’t a fluke.”
“A fluke?”
“You didn’t learn how to make one meal and bust it out whenever you need to impress?”
“There was a box of instant waffle mix in the cupboard. I wouldn’t call that impressive.”
I smiled, watching his hands as he adjusted the burner. “You would do numbers as a social media chef.”
He snorted.
“No, seriously,” I said. He glanced at me, eyes alight with the warmth of a smoldering campfire. “You’re hot. You’ve got that dry sense of humor the kids are into these days.”
“The kids?” he repeated, pulling a face.
“In an alternate universe,” I went on, poking his arm, “you would’ve made a great chef.”
He was quiet for a moment, moving the bacon around the pan. “My mom is a chef.”
I looked up at him, breath catching. “Really?”
“She worked a lot. We didn’t see much of her. My brother and I sort of trained ourselves to wake up at midnight when she got home from the restaurant, and she’d make us scrambled eggs or pancakes or grilled cheese sandwiches.”
“That sounds nice.”
“It was.”
I didn’t want to push my luck, but I was greedy. “What about your dad?”
“He died when I was six. I don’t remember much about him.” He cleared his throat. “I just had my mom. And my brother.”
My legs turned to jelly and I leaned against the counter for support, unwilling to put all my weight on him. “Oh,” I whispered, eyes stinging. I ached for both of us; all this time I’d wondered what drew me to Dex, or him to us, and here it was. We were the same.
He reached for me, his hand squeezing my shoulder gently, a silent plea to let it go. He’d gotten the words out, but that was as far as he could go right now. I pressed my face into his arm, nodding. All the time you need.
“I can’t picture you as a kid,” I murmured. “What were you like?”
“I was different.”
“Different like you didn’t vacuum your car every day?”
“I was more… reckless. Selfish. Happy.” He shut the burner off and stepped away to deal with the waffle maker. “You wake up one day and the things you care about most are gone. Everything is obsolete in their absence. It’s not easy anymore.”
I squeezed my eyes shut. He may as well have punched me in the gut. “You have things,” I said. “You have friends who trick you into going to couples hotels. You have a job helping kids. You must find that a teensy bit rewarding. I mean, as long as it’s your actual job.”
“It’s not sketchy.” He carefully divided the waffles across the three plates, avoiding my eyes.
“You have a fourteen-year-old who is, like, obsessed with you,” I continued, the tension in my veins ebbing at the slight quirk of his lips. “And a hot elementary school teacher who is also obsessed with you.”
His lips pulled into a real smile. I could’ve floated to the ceiling. “Likewise,” he said. “But I don’t need the…” He gestured vaguely. “I’m okay with who I am.”
But who did you used to be? I wondered, watching him drop his attention to the plates. Weren’t you the one insisting time is the only thing that helps wounds like these?
As he walked over to the stove to grab the pan of bacon, he paused to press a kiss to my forehead. “I can hear your mind working,” he said quietly, giving my hip a slight squeeze. “You’ll drive yourself crazy.”
“Right,” I replied, forcing a smile. “I’m the one who’s driving.”
He forced a smile right back.
The lookout near the border of Idaho wasn’t the first view to take my breath away on this trip, but it was the first I got to take in with Dex’s hand on the small of my back.
A guardrail stood between us and a rocky slope leading down to a canyon with a deep blue body of water nestled inside, surrounded by evergreens. Somewhere overhead, a hawk cried. The air was crisp, clean, full of florals and grass. It took Phoebe a solid minute to lift Dad’s camera.
“Good call, Bee,” I said. A few others had pulled over to take in the view, snapping pictures with their phones. “This is really beautiful.”
“And we didn’t have to hike five miles to see it,” Dex added. “Gold star.”
I smacked his stomach and he laughed loudly, the sound echoing into the cavern. Phoebe swiveled to look at us, eyebrows flying up. I took a step away from him, warmth rushing to my cheeks, and it turned into a blaze when she snapped a Polaroid of the two of us standing there.
“We should go somewhere you wanna go, Dex,” she said, lowering the camera.
“Isn’t that what this whole thing is?” he replied.
She shrugged with one shoulder. “Sure. Theoretically.” Dex and I exchanged a look. Clearly, we weren’t as subtle as we thought. “But I’ve picked most of the detours. Vi picked one. You haven’t picked any. It’s your turn.”
“Pass.” He folded his arms, his button-up pulling taut across his back. I had to tear my eyes away before Phoebe caught me. “Are we done?”
Phoebe rolled her eyes with her whole body. “We just got here.”
“We saw it. It’s great. You took a picture. Let’s go.”
He headed to the car. She shot me a look. “Can you hold him off? I wanna get another picture. I don’t want the guardrail in it.”
“Sure. But don’t climb over. It’s there for a reason.”
“When my therapist calls later, I’m going to kick off with how idiotic my sister thinks I am.”
We shared a smile. I followed Dex to the car, where he leaned against the passenger door, head back to let the sun warm his face. “Hey,” I said. “Quit being a grump. You’re killing the mood.”
He jerked his chin toward the lookout. “Think she knows?”
“Maybe,” I allowed, glancing over my shoulder. Phoebe stretched over the guardrail, this time with her phone, keeping both feet firmly planted on the ground. “She’s perceptive. Chances are, she’s known for a while.”
His eyes dipped to me, almost black even under the midday sun.
“About me,” I tacked on belatedly. “I haven’t been very stealthy since Chicago. But we all know you’re a vault.”
He winced and looked away. “I’m trying, Vi.”
“I know. I’m not saying—”
“You are so brave,” he said emphatically. When his eyes met mine, I recognized a flicker of impatience I hadn’t seen since Boston, and the reemergence put an ache in my gut. “You feel things out loud. You can’t keep it in. You’ll shout your problems at a stranger on the street.”
“So by brave, you mean unbalanced.”
He pulled a hand through his hair and I tried not to think about how those curls felt between my fingers. “You’re open in a way I’m not. I’m not like that. And sometimes you look at me like I’m missing a piece because of it.”
I sucked in a breath. “Dex. I don’t think that. Of course I don’t think that.”
“A week ago, you did,” he said. I bit my lip, unable to dispute this. “Maybe I am. Fuck.” He raised his hands to his face, dragging them down. “This is why I didn’t want to do this.”
Every bit of air rushed out of my lungs. “Do what?”
“You are so fucking good, Vi. I’m—I’m nowhere near you.”
I stepped away, head spinning. “You’re seriously doing this now? Now that we’ve had sex and I’m half in love with you, you’re gonna pull this?”
His breathing quickened. “Violet.”
“You’re right about one thing,” I said. “I’m brave, you’re not. Because this is what you do. It’s what you did with Catalina, right?”
His jaw flexed. “Don’t.”
“You got low and when she tried to be there for you, you pushed her away?”
“Don’t.”
“When should I expect your letter?”
“You have no idea what you’re talking about,” he snapped, stepping toward me.
“From the second we met, I have never given any indication that my life was perfect. I’m a fucking mess.
That’s not a secret. And then you show up and make your mess just as obvious.
You spill it everywhere you go. You’re telling me everything changed for you in Chicago?
I’ve been fucked out of my head since you walked into Sequest in that dress.
” He looked up at the sky, throat bobbing.
“And I thought maybe. Maybe because you’re messed up, too, this could work.
I want it so bad, Vi. It’s you. I had myself convinced I liked being alone and now I miss you when you’re in the next room.
I think about going back to Boston and being with you.
Letting you and Phoebe loose in my apartment to put some life and color into it.
I want to wake up and see hints of you, even if you’re not next to me. ”
Emotional whiplash grabbed me by the throat. I’d thought he was ending this. Maybe he meant to. But he didn’t want that—he wanted me, a future together, and the only thing standing in the way was his own brain. He couldn’t get a grip. And he wouldn’t tell me why.
“I want that too. Why can’t you let yourself have something?”
His shoulders rose in a breath and then his eyes shifted over my shoulder, his pinched expression smoothing into pure horror, and he took off running. I wheeled around in time to see a shock of pink slipping down the cliff and Dex diving down after her.