Total pages in book: 93
Estimated words: 90503 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 453(@200wpm)___ 362(@250wpm)___ 302(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 90503 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 453(@200wpm)___ 362(@250wpm)___ 302(@300wpm)
He sighed. “Any objection to my telling her?”
I shrugged. “Suit yourself.”
When I took him to the airport on Saturday, he hugged me goodbye and told me how much he’d enjoyed spending time with me—it was the first time we’d ever done that without his family or our parents around, too. “We should do this again sometime. A guys’ weekend.”
“We should.” Although these days, I wasn’t counting on anything in the future.
“See you in Boston.”
“See you. Safe trip home.”
I spent the next few days cleaning my house, clearing out the fridge, and packing my bags. I got a haircut, checked in with my neurologist, who was happy to hear I’d elected to have surgery, set up auto-pay for my monthly bills, and asked my next-door neighbor to bring in the mail. On Monday, I saw my lawyer, who had created a will according to my specifications. If anything happened to me, my inheritance, and anything else left over after settling the estate, would be split equally between Olympia and Lane. I was only renting my house, so I didn’t have to worry about that, and anything in it, I wanted donated. Two other attorneys in his office served as witnesses while I signed it.
All day, every day, I thought about Maren. Missed her with an intensity that rivaled the pain in my head. My house had never felt so fucking lonely.
But it was nothing less than I deserved for what I’d done.
On Tuesday night, I met Beatriz and Evan for a drink at the Teardrop Lounge. We congratulated Evan again and asked to see pictures of his son, and he happily obliged. He had dark shadows under his eyes and said nights were rough, but I could tell he was happy. I envied him.
Our drinks arrived—since Beatriz had offered to pick me up and drop me off, I’d indulged in some whiskey—and we raised our glasses.
“To Hunter William,” Beatriz said. “May he take after his mother as much as possible. And to Dallas’s speedy and full recovery.”
“I’ll drink to that,” said Evan.
Evan finished his cocktail quickly and had to get home, but he shook my hand before he left and told me both he and Reyna were pulling for me, and asked me to let them know how everything went as soon as I could. I said I would.
As soon as we were alone at the table, Beatriz lit into me.
“You look miserable,” she said.
“I feel worse than I look.”
“Still haven’t talked to the girl?”
I shook my head.
“Why not?”
“Because if I hear her voice, I’ll fall apart,” I said quietly.
“Dude.” She lifted her drink to her lips and sipped. “You’re a fucking mess. I’m not trying to tell you what to do, but let me tell you what to do.”
I frowned at her.
“I’ve been thinking about this a lot, ever since you conned me into giving you that tattoo. You need to come clean with her. It’s got you all fucked in the head. Your aura is, like, choking on this pain.”
“It’s all I have of her.”
“Christ, Dallas. Do you even hear yourself? You’re clinging to the pain and guilt instead of the woman you love. She could be there by your side getting you through this. She’d make you stronger, you know. I bet you’d fight harder.”
Her words made sense, but I’d already done too much damage. “I fucked things up too much. They can’t be fixed. It’s too late.”
“You haven’t even tried!”
“She probably wouldn’t even talk to me.”
Beatriz shrugged. “Guess you’ll have to find that out.”
I sat there for a few minutes, staring into my whiskey. “I miss her, Bea. I really fucking miss her.”
“I know, babe.”
“I thought coming back here and burying my head in the sand would make me feel better, but it didn’t.”
“It never does.”
“And I’m scared.” It felt good to say it aloud.
“Of what?”
“Of dying. Of losing feeling in my right hand. Of needing people to take care of me. Of not being enough for her.” I looked up at her and admitted the truth. “But I can’t keep living like this. It’s only been ten days, and I’m going crazy.”
“So do something about it, Dallas.” She reached out and touched my wrist. “We all make mistakes. We’re all human. What sets one man apart from the next is what happens afterward.”
Exhaling, I closed my eyes. “I don’t even know what to say to her. How to explain myself. I told her a bunch of lies. She won’t know what to believe.”
“Can I offer a suggestion?”
I nodded.
“What do you think she wants more than anything in the world?”
“A second chance,” I said without hesitation.
“And what do you want?” She held up one hand. “Wait, let me rephrase. What do you want that you have control over getting?”
“To make her happy. If I can.”
“What would make her happy?”