Chapter 10 - Lily
Lily
We switched roles, so now Dean refused to speak. His stern jaw and judging eyes stared forward into our wet inferno.
“Do you want some water?”
“I’m fucking sick of water,” he said.
I gave up and matched his stiff posture.
We crept forward, deeper into southern Georgia, past empty fields and dark homes. A small lake appeared, one we couldn’t locate on the maps we’d stolen from the drugstore.
The sky darkened, turning a dirty gray despite the early hour. Dean pulled into an empty bank parking lot.
He’d joked about robbing one once, and I didn’t believe it then. I still didn’t, but the evidence of his darker side continued to grow.
He gazed at me with his solemn eyes, inviting me to his underworld. I could drown in them. “What is it?” he asked.
“What did you do before? The full truth because it isn’t gig work. You and my brother. Be honest, or our truce ends.”
Hurt flashed across his features. “Your brother does intelligence work.”
“Is he like you?”
“Like me?” His shoulders drooped. “He works at a desk. Analyst work. He never said, and I never asked.”
“And he found you this job, whatever it is.”
“Contract work,” Dean said. “I worked for a private security company. They paid me well.”
“Explain. Give me more than that.”
His lips twisted. “Bodyguard duty. Security checks. Swiping intel. Taking people. I don’t know what it is you’re looking for.”
“You mean kidnapping?” I challenged.
“If needed. Most work lasted a few days to a few months. I don’t ask questions; I do as I’m told. Sometimes it’s simple recon, and other times, it’s more. I’m good at it. It’s what I know how to do. It’s all I…” He rubbed both eyebrows with his thumbs, as his cheek twitched. “Are you satisfied?”
His defeated tone almost made me say yes.
I kept going. “That’s why my brother called you instead of me.” Ryan trusted him more than me. I pressed my lips together before tears formed.
“He knew what I’d do, which is what you’re asking. He knew I’d prioritize the mission.”
“And what was the mission?”
Dean’s eyes sharpened. He glanced at me and away, like the answer frightened him. “Taking care of you.”
“Taking care of me.” I touched his hard thigh. Dean’s hand hovered over mine before he grazed my knuckles. “You’ve done that.”
He stared forward into the growing twilight, seeing none of it. “What else would you like to know about me?”
“Are you in a secret organization?” I asked, trying to understand.
“There’s no Department X, like you see in movies. I’m not a spy like that either. I don’t know whether Bigfoot is real or if aliens landed at Roswell. No one asks for my opinion. The president doesn’t care what I think. World leaders don’t seek my input. I’m a grunt, sent where I’m told. I’m a...”
My heart ached at his attempted humor. I appreciated his honesty, and a part of me hurt for him. Dean’s matter-of-fact retelling spoke of a lonely life—an empty one. “You’re a weapon,” I finished for him.
“That’s as good a word as any.”
My feelings towards him, warmer now than yesterday, didn’t change what he did.
Dean once named me an embarrassment, and though he apologized for our short-lived fling last year, the humiliation lingered.
He called sleeping with me a poor decision.
How did I reconcile that crass apology with the man in front of me?
“Why did he bother you so much?”
“Drunk Gary?” Dean pulled out of the parking lot to stall for time. “He bothered you.”
I didn’t believe that. “He hardly touched me. He wasn’t a threat.”
“Tell his children and wife that.”
That explanation made more sense.
He swallowed back the rest of the truth, and I didn’t push.
My brother understood his friend far better than I did.
Who did I sleep with last Thanksgiving? Was he the same man I had tried to kiss all those years ago?
I wasn’t sure if I fantasized about the man beside me or the one in my imagination.
“I won’t ask you to be someone you’re not.
Do you understand what I’m telling you?”
Did Dean realize he used the same words on me only a few days ago? He faced forward, denying me any chance to read him, not that I was particularly skilled in that regard.
The truck’s interior darkened, so his features disappeared. I flicked on the overhead light, risking the battery, but needing to confirm my theory.
“You feel responsible for children and a mother you’ve never met,” I said.
“Don’t act surprised.”
“I’m not, and don’t deflect.” All it did was confirm my suspicions. “I admire it. You’re not a weapon, Dean, and don’t believe anyone who says you are. Don’t allow anyone to treat you like one, including my brother. Including me.”
“I’m the man who promised to get you home.”
“Back to Deer Lake.” I turned off the overhead light and faced him.
My head leaned against the seat’s edge as my body angled itself toward his.
He copied my movements until our faces almost touched.
“I found it oppressive growing up. Deer Lake is where everyone knows everyone, and everyone looked after me. It grew worse after my mom died. Neighbors checked in, and teachers reported to my dad. What’s the real reason you left? It wasn’t to join Department X.”
He didn’t notice my attempted humor. “You and I have very distinct memories of Deer Lake.”
“Then explain, because right now, it feels like I don’t know you. Like I never did.”
“You know me better than anyone,” he shot back.
I scoffed. “Not much. You enjoy kidnapping people and frightening them, too, I think. What else? You and my brother were always together growing up. Each other’s shadow.” I thought back to Mrs. Willoughby, our housekeeper, and all the times he came for dinner. “I know you don’t like spaghetti.”
“What?” He drew back. “Who told you that?”
“Mrs. Willoughby. I remember you didn’t stay for dinner one night.”
“She was a bitch.”
Dean called Eric Gustafson, the town sheriff and my dad’s oldest friend, a dick. I was close friends with his daughter for years. She spent the night with me several times, and I did the same.
What other secrets did Dean hide? “Perhaps our memories differ more than I guessed. Tell me what you remember.”
“I remember a narrow-minded town that didn’t give a shit about me or miss me when I left.”
“I missed you.”
“That makes two people.”
“Three. My father cared about you.”
He tilted his head. “Do you know how I joined the army?” Dean noticed my shaking head, despite the dim light.
“I graduated from high school with no plans or direction. Your brother suggested I join him at college, but I didn’t have the money or any way to pay for it.
Besides, my grades were shit. It’s a miracle I finished. ”
“How does that involve my father?” I knew the answer before finishing the question. “He suggested it.”
“I needed a job, and for someone like me, there’s not much opportunity in Deer Lake.”
“Someone like you?” I tried to understand.
“Your dad gave me the idea. Leave town and make a new life for myself somewhere else. Those were his words, and that’s what I did. Besides, I came back once.”
Dean’s memories didn’t match mine. I remembered comforting him after his mother died, and then he did the same for me a year later when mine passed on. My family grieved the loss, yet my childhood had been stable. Safe.
Dean promised to take me home, despite expressing no desire to go. I knew that without him saying so. Deer Lake wasn’t his home. It had never been.
I didn’t know what to do about that. “So, you left, never to return. What else don’t I know about you?”
“What else? I’ve shared more with you than anyone else.”
“Except my brother?”
He huffed. “You know I don’t like coffee, and how it felt to see a beach for the first time.”
He’d spoken of his first visit, taken during basic training, with reverence. “You regretted joining because you were destined to travel the world surfing.”
“It was the first time I realized how big our world is. You know I owned a Harley for one year.”
I laughed. “An impulse purchase you regretted before leaving the parking lot.”
“You also know I believed in leprechauns because of a story my mother told me.”
“She planted toy coins in your backyard. That’s adorable, Dean.”
“The kids at school didn’t think so,” he said, and cleared his throat. “I realize that isn’t much for you, but for someone like me…” That phrase again.
“It’s a lot.” It’s offering yourself to another person’s judgment. “Thank you for telling me all this. I understand now why you didn’t come back until you had to sell your house.”
“Selling a house didn’t require my presence. I hired a realtor to do it for me. Why do you think I visited last year?”
“You tell me.”
“I have. Many times over. You don’t listen.”
To see Ryan? “Tell me again.”
“No, I don’t think I will. You’ll figure it out.” Dean pinched my chin, tilting my head back. “I’d rather kiss you instead. How about we do that?” His thumb stroked my lower lip. “Would you stop me if I tried?”
Dean’s shallow breathing matched mine.
My body shuddered at his touch. How did he do it? His demanding eyes pulled me in, hypnotizing me with his suggestions. “What would you do if I refused?”
“Ask you again.”
How could I refuse the perfect answer? “Then we’ll see what happens.” I leaned in rather than explain further.
Dean trembled before his lips brushed mine, a gentle probe, testing my consent rather than launching an assault.
I should shove him back to his side of the truck, or at least offer some protest, feeble though it might be.
Instead, my body stiffened, even as my lips parted, begging for more contact.
Dean’s warm breath touched me, and his lips returned to mine, hungrier than I remembered. More demanding. Desperate.
How could I not want the man who kidnapped me and promised to kill for me? Was I mad, or was it lingering stress from the comet and our trauma?
None of that mattered because his hands grazed my neck and cheek, bringing me closer as his tongue found mine. I sighed and relaxed against him, grabbing his shirt like I was in danger of losing him all over again.
I didn’t trust him, and I hadn’t forgiven him, but I wanted this. His body and strength. His kiss and all the promises that came with it.