Chapter 27
Dinner is a weird affair.
Lauren showed up at the library talking so much and acting over-enthusiastic that I couldn’t figure her out. We spent lots of time together, along with Marian, while Dalton and Caleb were on their fishing trip. Maybe she was simply so super-excited about Caleb coming back that she was antsy.
She came to find me at the library, asking all kinds of questions about my efforts. My phone service is always spotty at the Goldfinch BB. It isn’t as new as the phones Lauren, Caleb, and Dalton have, and the internet reception there is iffy. I headed to the nearest library down the mountain to update my résumé, look up the teaching license requirements for Colorado, and otherwise prepare for applying to the third-grade teacher job Sherry had told me about. I contacted her as well, and it was fun texting with her. It’s always nice to make new friends, even with how selective I am.
I appreciated Lauren’s enthusiasm and interest in what I was up to, but I still felt like she was trying too hard. It had to be because she missed Caleb and needed to while away the time until his return.
I was happy to see Caleb and Dalton at dinner, but it was strange. They didn’t talk much, and it didn’t seem like a good chance for me to converse with Dalton at all. I was still eager to tell him about the teaching job. I was warming up to telling him how I felt about him. But the awkwardness at the meal threw me off.
A contractor stopped in too. Sawyer Cameron, I believe he said his name was. He isn’t like Hayes at all. A normal, average guy, maybe a bit older. His polite manners impress me, and he has never joined in on what seems like the crude and bawdy talk the construction crew seems so prone to on the property. When he stepped in to ask Caleb a question, Marian—the sweet soul she is—insisted he sit down and eat since he was the only worker staying so late on the site next door.
I didn’t mind him being there, and it was interesting to hear about the house being built. But he was a stranger, and it made it harder for me to want to speak up and tell the others all about the teaching opportunity. Spending time at the library for it and texting with Sherry has me excited about it, but I go to my room later, sort of bummed that I haven’t had a chance to tell Dalton yet. He and Caleb remain in the dining room chatting with the contractor, and I hope I’ll have an opportunity later to speak to the tall man who’s stealing my heart.
Maybe he’s tired from the fishing trip?
I stall in my room, waiting to hear his door open. Each time I glance at the shared door between our rooms, I sigh. It’s ridiculous how eager I am to see him, but I can’t help it.
He’s there soon enough, knocking on my door. It has to be him. I rush up to open the door to my room, and he enters without a word. Strange. He came straight to me instead of coming through the shared door. I view it as a good thing, that he was equally impatient to see me that he didn’t want the delay of entering his room, then mine.
“Hey,” I say brightly as he closes the door and locks it.
I can’t help but remember how he reminded me when we hadn’t shared a bed. We have now, at the hotel, but we haven’t been together like that at the Goldfinch yet. My body reacts to his presence—alone—in my room, but I try to ignore my need for him. We need to talk first.
“We need to talk,” he says as he takes my hand.
I giggle.
He furrows his brow. “What’s so funny?”
“You took the words right out of my mouth.” I sit, tugging him to lower down next to me on the edge of the bed. “Go ahead. Wait. Let me guess. You broke the state record for catching a monster fish.”
He rolls his eyes and tries not to smile. “No.”
“Okay, then what is it?” He seems tense, and I try not to dwell on him saying something awful. I’m not sure if he’s aware of it, but he’s already threaded his fingers with mine, unable to let me go as he strokes his thumb over my knuckles. He can’t be in the mood to split from me if he’s touching me like this.
He opens and closes his mouth, hesitant. I know he is. He always is. Dalton’s quiet, so it makes it all the more worth it when he does speak up. “I want you.”
I blink. Then blink some more. When I raise my brows and look down at the bed, he sighs.
“Not now.”
Again, I can’t stop blinking in surprise.
“I mean. I do. I always do.” He taps the bed. “But that’s not why I came in here to talk.”
“Okay…”
“I really like you, Aubrey,” he amends softly.
I smile, wanting to bask in the glow of his words. He truly means them.
“But I don’t understand your hesitation with me.”
I point at my chest. “My hesitation?”
“You said it. You said we were just hooking up. Just for fun.”
It’s my turn to open and close my mouth, unsure how to vocalize what I mean.
“When we met, sure, it felt like a fling. I’ve been attracted to you from the beginning, and we mesh well. We fit.”
Literally. My cheeks go hot.
“But as I get to know you, I want to know more. And as I spend more time with you, I wonder why you hold back. Why you won’t tell me what you think this is between us. I fall asleep desperate to know why you’re so resistant to considering something more than hooking up with me just for some vacation fun.”
He’s putting me on the spot, and I feel flustered and cornered. I’ve been pep-talking myself to tell him how I feel, but now that he’s proverbially thrusting the mic in my face and asking for an answer, I clam up.
“Well, we are on vacation.” I rub the back of my neck, hating the burn of nerves tingling on my skin. “Or were. I know you’re going back to New York next week.”
“No.” He turns, facing me more. “That’s not an answer, Aubrey.”
“I’m just…” Oh, crap. I feel so vulnerable, taking this leap. “I…”
“You what?” he pushes.
“I’m just scared!” I blurt it in a rush and feel terrible. Shouldn’t I feel better without the burden of that truth weighing me down?
He scoffs. “Me too. Remember? I’m just as guarded.”
I shake my head. “No. This is different. I’m not talking about someone not choosing me, I’m talking about losing people. I lose everything I love.” Tears threaten, and I inhale deeply to stave them off. “First my parents. They died and I was alone. Then my job. It was taken, and I had no direction. Then Lauren. She’s my only real friend, the only person I let into my life before I met you. And I almost lost her to Jeremy and her parents’ control. Everything I care about is taken from me.”
He gazes at me with such intensity, those tears almost come back. Another deep inhale helps.
Say something! I have basically admitted that I love him by lumping him in the same category as others I’ve loved. It isn’t until this poignant moment that I realize how deeply I feel for him. I’ve fought the attraction since we met. I’ve resisted his presence. I’ve dug in my heels and remained stubborn to let him in, but he’s there. Dalton is under my skin and in my heart, whether I planned to allow him there or not. Sure, I’ve cared for him, but speaking about it now, I see how strong my feelings have become.
“But—”
He groans. “No. No but. Not after you said that. Please.”
“But,” I say, almost smiling at his plea, “I don’t know how we could even work past a fun hookup or vacation fling. I don’t see how our lives could align for a future.”
He furrows his brow, clearly not a fan of what I’m saying, but it’s the truth.
“You’re going home, to New York. You’re only staying here for a few more days, and I bet since Caleb’s your best friend, you’ll visit again, but that’s all it will ever be to you, just temporary visits. Your home—your life—is in New York. And I’m…Right now, I’m here.”
It doesn’t enter my mind to mention California. I know that chapter of my life is done, and I’m okay with it. The excitement of thinking about teaching elsewhere is addicting, like an exploration of my potential.
“I might stay here,” I add.
“Come with me.”
I rear back at his quick request.
“Come to New York with me. I know you’re eager to teach again. I can help you find something. Either through my foundation work or anywhere, just—”
“No.” I sigh and shake my head. “That’s what I wanted to talk to you about. A retired teacher and I were talking in town while you were gone. She’s encouraging me to apply to teach here, and as of this afternoon, I’m in the running to be Acorn Hill’s next third-grade teacher.”
I smile as I wait for his response. All day, I’ve been grinning about the opportunity that’s come my way. I should be excited about this news. But telling him, I have to force the expression and I know it falls flat.
I’m still waiting. Seconds turn to minutes as he stares at me with such an unreadable expression I want to beg him to speak. He’s quiet, but dammit, I need to hear what he thinks about this!
“I’m falling in love with you.” He blurts it, true to his nature, but his somber face shows me that while his words are hastily shared, they are genuine. “I have fallen for you, Aubrey.”
I can’t move. I can barely think past the rush of my heartbeat. It’s not panic taking over me, but…
Whoa. I’m stunned silent, gaping at him. In love? Since when? He might be quick to remind me that I said we were just for fun, but he was the first one to say we were a hookup.
He releases my hand, standing so swiftly I flinch at the sudden nature of his move. “I’m sorry for wasting your time.”
Wait. What? Wait!
Then he turns and exits the room, leaving me there frozen in shock.
My body itches to move. I suffer the urge to get up and go after him. I can’t let him have the last word, especially like that! But I don’t. I cannot will my legs to carry me from this bed, and I sit there, stuck, and hating myself for my fear to chase after him.
For the rest of the night, I operate on autopilot. I get ready for bed. I lie down on the mattress. I shut off the lights. All my motions are automatic because I am numb in a shellshocked state. I struggle to wrap my head around it all.
Dalton loves me. He said it, and I have no reason to doubt the sincerity of his declaration, but I can’t just accept it like this.
I roll over in bed, unable to sleep or even get sleepy. Staring at the shared door, I reach deep within my conscience and challenge myself to stop. To put an end to this nonsense of being scared to commit. To hold back just because the fear of losing something good is terrifying.
It’s on the tip of my tongue to tell him that I feel exactly the same. That I’m right there with him and falling so hard and fast.
What’s the point of hiding from what could be?
I have no answer anymore, and with a gut-twisting intuition, I decide right then and there I can’t do this to him or myself.
I can’t let him slip through my fingers. Not like this.
Before I can chicken out or try to drum up another excuse, I get out of bed and hurry to the shared door. I lift my hand to knock, but it opens before my knuckles make contact on the wood.