37. Letting Go

37

Letting Go

Dax

Tuesday, June 6 th

12:41 a.m.

"I don't like the rain. Or the cold."

I'm not surprised by her response. She glares at the sky like it's caused a personal offense, but I take in the earthy, metallic tang as it pounds into the asphalt.

The nostalgic scent reminds me of our summer trip Liam mentioned. And how it always seems to rain when we make it upstate.

"You won't know unless you try." I wiggle my fingers, reiterating she should take my hand.

She doesn't budge.

I reach up to brush away the water that is trickling from my hair and into my eyes.

"I don't want to be in the rain." She covers a yawn and heads back to her doorway, droplets of water falling from the ends of her hair onto her shoes.

"Oh, come on." I grab her hand and pull her back onto the landing, catching her off guard. Her eyes drop to our hands, and she tries to pull away, but it's a feeble attempt at best. "What's the worst that could happen?"

"I don't know—we could die?" She bites out. Another whip of lightning fills the sky, and thunder crashes seconds later, echoing her point.

"Like that's ever stopped me before," I tease as I pull her down the stairs and into the street. She doesn't resist, but her hand remains floppy in mine.

I turn to face her, bowing. "May I have this dance?" The water cascades down my face, making it hard to see her through my saturated lashes.

"This is absurd. I don't want to die."

"Lighten up." I pull her into my arms, and I swear I can feel her heart hammer against my chest as she closes her eyes and takes a long, steadying breath.

She wipes a hand over her face, smearing mascara. She swallows, her gaze landing on my lips.

I want her to let her guard down, but not under these circumstances. Flirting is off-limits, especially knowing how Liam feels about the situation. A part of me wants to be reckless, to say screw it. But I shouldn't.

And the look she's giving me—begging me to let her off the hook and take control of the situation—is doing nothing for my willpower and restraint. She doesn't know how Liam feels about this. And that I promised I wouldn't cross that line. I don't want to betray his trust, but she's not making it easy.

My heart somersaults as gentle hands cradle my face in an act of agreement.

"I want to try something." I swallow. Hard.

Her eyes flutter closed, and her lips part.

But I can't. What was I thinking? I don't know how I find the determination not to kiss her, but I do, and I feel triumphant. I need all green lights; right now, all I have is red.

"We shouldn't. I'm sorry," I whisper into her ear.

"You're right." Rain pelts us as she pinches her mouth into a straight line and yanks away from me.

"It's not you. It's Liam," I offer as an explanation, reaching for her as she protects herself with her arm and heads back to her brownstone.

Liam. Liam. Liam.

It takes everything in me not to march over to her, pull her in my arms, and show her how badly I want to pretend I didn't say those words. I let Liam's face fill my mind. I won't do this to him. The last thing I need is another reason for him to be pissed at me. And I shouldn't put her in a position where she has to choose.

"Nice play on words," she says as I stop on the bottom step.

"If we were in another time or place, I wouldn't think twice. But we're not, so we shouldn't."

"Right." Understanding overrides her frustration. She pulls on the hem of her scrubs and twists the water out of it.

"I'll see you at his appointment—ouch, shit." I shield my face from the rain as it turns into pellet-sized hail.

She chuckles and motions to her place. "Let me call you a cab."

It doesn't take much convincing this time. I'm all for a refreshing walk to clear my mind, but I'm not okay with bruises.

I race up the steps, my arms doing a piss-poor job of shielding me from the storm.

"Did Liam say why he didn't answer my calls?" She stops in the open doorway and extends a hand, ushering me in before her.

"Didn't want to talk to anyone." I stand in the foyer, dripping onto the black-and-white checkered tile. I feel bad about it, but I'm in her house again, so there's not too much guilt.

"He's not the only one."

"That's not an excuse. I was worried something bad had happened to him." As the words tumble from my mouth, I know I've said too much. There's too much to explain, and not much of it makes sense.

She wipes at her cheeks, rubbing away the black lines of mascara. "Like what?"

I should have figured my comment wouldn't go unnoticed.

"I'm having an issue with an ex."

She scrunches her brow in confusion as she pulls out her phone. She's only half-listening to me. "What's that have to do with Liam?"

I'd like to know the answer to that too. There's no telling what Dani would or wouldn't do for revenge.

"I failed to mention that I have a stalker. There's a restraining order, but she doesn't seem to think it's a big deal. She's a loose cannon, and I have no idea what she'll do next."

"You thought . . . Oh, shit." Her eyes grow wide. "You thought she did something to Liam?"

"It crossed my mind."

"What are you doing about it?" She crosses the foyer and settles on the bottom step of the curved staircase, dropping her chin in her palm.

"Bree's got it under control. It was all a misunderstanding."

"One that warranted a restraining order?" Her eyebrows shoot up, and her voice takes on an edge.

I hold out my thumb and forefinger. "A little one."

"You're too much." She shakes her head as a smile breaks out across her lips.

"I like the sound of that." I puff out my chest, running a hand through my drenched hair.

"I didn't mean it as a compliment," she says, rolling her eyes.

And the twitchy sensation in my palm returns. It's only a matter of time, Brighton, a matter of time.

"Do you think it's safe for Liam to travel?" I sit beside her on the step and lean back. "He wants to plan our annual summer trip, and the idea of not getting to live a normal life is weighing on him."

"Guess it depends on when and where."

"When he finishes chemo, upstate."

She tosses around the idea for a couple of seconds before she answers. "If today was your last day on earth, what would you want to do?"

"It's not Liam's last day, right?" I try to keep the concern out of my voice, and she laughs.

"I'm sorry. I didn't mean to phrase it like that. But do you get where he's coming from?"

I don't like where this conversation is going, and all I can think about is Liam's health, but I humor her anyway. "I'd want to take you on a date."

"I'm sorry, what?"

"If today were my last day, blah, blah, blah—and being Liam's doctor wasn't an issue—I'd want to take you on a date." I don't care if she's one hundred percent off-limits. I like to see her squirm.

"I'm being serious."

"Me too." I lean closer to her, and she stills, her eyes pinned to my face. My favorite shade of crimson spreads across her cheeks. "He shouldn't go—to be on the safe side—right?"

"Guess we'd have to see how well he's handling everything. He'll probably be pretty sick when he's done. If you guys planned it around how he's doing, I don't see why not."

"I was hoping you'd say no." I groan.

"It could be good for him. The more normal things stay, the more his outlook will remain positive, meaning we have a better chance of remission. Just a thought."

"So, that's a no."

"Tell him whatever you want. I have work in," Brighton glances at her watch, fighting a smile, "six hours. I'm on call all week, and I need sleep." She doesn't give me a chance to respond. She stands and stretches, leaning against the black banister.

"I will regret this in the morning, but I don't care."

She takes a step up and I grab her hand, stopping her.

She takes a full second to turn.

Maybe two.

Maybe three.

How can she look better with sopping wet hair falling into her face?

I close the distance between us and pull her into my arms. I stare at her. Her eyes are full of concern and excitement. I'm sure she's aware of my intentions. While I have the guts to do it, I won't let the idea of what could happen if Liam finds out interfere. What he doesn't know won't hurt him. I know I swore I wouldn't, and this is exactly what he meant by me crossing lines, but she's worth it. And I can ask for forgiveness later.

I brush a wet strand of hair from her face and push it behind her ear as I lean in.

Slowly.

Maybe too slowly.

I walk us back until she's flush against the wall. Her chest rises with anticipation. I lift her off the ground as she wraps her legs around my waist. She takes the initiative, binds her hands around my neck, and pulls me closer, her mouth centimeters from mine. Her breath warms my lips.

"Fuck it." Our mouths crash together as she laces her fingers through my hair.

"Dax," she groans.

My name rolling off her tongue is my undoing. I lean against her, holding her up with the weight of my body, my hands skimming down the sides of her slim waist, when her phone vibrates between us.

She pulls away, wiping the back of her hand across her swollen lips. "Not like this, Dax." She takes hold of one of my hands, stopping me. "Not like this."

"You're right." I catch my breath, my heart pounding to escape from my chest. "We shouldn't."

What in the hell just happened?

She drops her legs from around my waist and checks her phone, ushering me toward the door. "Your cab's here."

It takes everything in me not to grab her and slam the door shut. Our eyes meet as she reaches for the handle. My fingers are itching to touch her, but I think better of it.

I brush my thumb across my lower lip, having to adjust myself as I join her at the front door and leave her with a wink. "Tease."