Chapter 30
Daniela
How the hell does he still smell so good after dealing with me puking all night, sleeping in my bed next to me, running out to get groceries in the morning, and putting the same clothes back on after a quick shower?
I was right to be worried about all the forced proximity I’d have with him this summer.
The ridiculous, maddening attraction is still there.
It never left. He gives me one smoldering glance, and my stomach flutters.
He unknowingly flexes a bicep, and I’m a puddle.
One look at his tight, muscular thighs, and I’m practically salivating.
What is wrong with me ?
The bigger problem, though, is that I’m getting to know him more deeply.
And I fear it’s not simply a physical attraction anymore.
Now, every instinct I have is screaming at me to shut down again.
Close myself off. I know I already ruined my shot with him, and I’d be the one who ends up hurt.
Besides, I still don’t even know if I want a shot with him. I’m still wary of relationships.
We haven’t talked much an hour into the drive.
I’ve had my eyes closed behind my sunglasses, arms crossed, keeping to myself.
My stomach still doesn’t feel completely back to normal, but he has soft, alternative music playing low, and it feels relaxing.
Peaceful. With only two weeks left until the wedding, things are about to get hectic.
“You listen to everything, don’t you?” I finally break the silence.
“Pretty much.”
“Hmm.”
“What?”
“Nothing.”
“Of course,” he mutters.
“What?” I ask again.
“Nothing,” he snaps.
“If you have something to say, just say it.” I glance at him, my sunglasses still on, shielding me.
“Um, same to you,” he shoots back, irritation in his voice .
My mouth parts slightly, caught off guard by his tone.
“Exactly,” he says again, huffing out a breathy, sarcastic laugh.
“What’s that supposed to mean?” I challenge him.
“It means, you never tell me what the hell is really on your mind. You’re so damn guarded, and then you have the nerve to tell me to say what I’m thinking. You’re such a hypocrite.”
I stare, stunned. I know he’s not wrong. I just didn’t expect him to call me out on it.
“Where is all this coming from all of a sudden? I thought—"
“You thought we were finally getting somewhere? That despite you getting sick, we actually had a decent time on this trip together? Yeah. Me too.”
“I…” I’m at a loss for words. I force myself to look at him. His grip on the wheel is tight, his jaw ticking as he stares ahead. “I’m sorry.” It comes out soft, fragile.
He glances at me, waiting for me to continue.
“I’m a little messed up. Maybe a bit guarded. Probably a little bit of an asshole…” I admit, my voice a bit more animated.
“I know you are. To most people. But not to the ones closest to you.”
I look down, studying my hands. I don’t say anything for a long moment, and I can sense him waiting again .
He looks at me again, then adds, “You’re not as mean as you think you are, you know? I see right through you, and I know you have a big ass heart under there.”
I’m about to respond when a text from my mom lights up my screen. I glance at it and sigh. I’ll have to keep Dex waiting just a little longer.
“That’s a lot of frustrated sighs in a row. Everything all right?” Dex asks, concern in his voice.
“Yeah…no.”
“Yeah no?” he repeats.
“Sorry, it’s just…” I take a deep breath.
You can do this . “It’s my idiot brother.
He hasn’t quite figured out his life yet.
That was my mom letting me know he’s relapsed again.
She’s handling it, I guess. I don’t know…
I’m kind of in a tough-love phase with him right now.
You can only do so much when they’re an adult and refuse your help over and over again. ”
“That’s…rough. I’m sorry.” His shoulders relax. “Are you guys still close, though?”
“Not anymore,” I say, shaking my head. “And not for lack of trying. My dad leaving when we were kids hit him harder. He was never quite the same after, I think.”
He shakes his head. “I shouldn’t have pried. I’m sorry. Sucks you’ve had to go through all that.”
“No. It’s okay.” Strangely, I feel just a fraction lighter after unloading that on him. “That wasn’t so bad.”
He gives me a sympathetic smile. “Anything I can do? ”
I shake my head. “No, thank you. Sadly, it’s nothing new. And something he has to want to fix for himself.”
Silence stretches between us as I debate what to say next.
“The tattoo—the pangolin—it’s for my friend Miles. We met in a support group. He…killed himself,” I admit, liquid starting to pool in my eyes. It doesn’t drop, though.
He’s silent. Then, after a beat, he reaches over and grabs my hand. I’m not sure if it’s as a friend or something more, but the feel of his large hand hugging mine is a comfort I didn’t know I needed. I don’t pull away.
“Shit, Daniela. That’s terrible,” he says softly, eyes flicking toward me with so much intensity.
“It was.”
“Support group?” he asks with trepidation.
“That…is a story for another time,” I tell him, letting out a breath.
He gives a small, understanding smile.
“I’m sorry I wasn’t more supportive last year when Liam had his accident. I guess, just like I don’t know how to accept support from people, I’m not great at giving it either.”
He shakes his head. “You showed up. That’s all that matters.”
“I could’ve—”
“You could’ve what? Sat in the hospital with us all night? Helped me with Layla’s surprise after? You did all that. ”
“I could’ve been kinder to you.”
“You weren’t unkind. You were quiet—which was what I needed, with my best friend in critical condition in the other room. None of us knew what to say.Whether it was for Layla or me…you were there. That’s it.”
I nod, offering a small smile. His words mean more than he knows.
“Please don’t beat yourself up over that,” he adds, giving my hand a gentle squeeze.
“Okay,” I whisper, grateful.
Eventually, the exhaustion from emptying my guts out hits me, and I drift off.
When I wake up, I find my hand still in his.