Chapter Nine

Dallas

Now

Sunday, I was at my mom's, waiting on the arrival of my sister and her future husband. I spent the day decorating the house for the celebration, helping her cut roses from the garden and arranging them throughout the lower level of our family home. It looked absolutely perfect by the time guests started to arrive. Most were friends of Rose, whom I'd met throughout the years, and a few friends of Grant. I'd learned from my mom that Grant had recently been orphaned after his dad's recent passing and had no other living relatives. His mom had passed a few years prior, and besides the few friends invited here today, my sister was all he had left. I felt a certain level of sympathy and protectiveness for his and my sister's bond before I'd even had a chance to meet him. I hoped I would feel the same as my mom and be able to embrace this stranger enough to trust him with the happiness of the person closest to me.

I opened the door for the next guest and froze. "Dean, what are you doing here?" He looked absolutely gorgeous in khaki slacks and a white button-down shirt. He held a case of expensive champagne and gave me a knowing smile. I was instantly on guard .

"You look beautiful. Mind if I set this down?" I opened the door to usher him in, then greeted the people waiting behind him.

"Jennifer," I said, greeting Rose's roommate and her longtime boyfriend, Alex.

"Hey, Dallas," she said as she walked in, holding his hand. "Are they here?"

"Not yet." I smiled, grabbed the wine she offered then followed them in. "What do you think of him?"

"Just wait," she said, giving me a wink. "You'll love him, I promise."

"So I hear." I suddenly felt the overwhelming guilt of not having met him. It seemed I would be the last one. Dean walked back to me from the kitchen, his scent intoxicating me. I was dressed in a floor-length taupe dress that highlighted the small amount of curves I had and was accented by a little bit of sexy with thigh-high slits on each side. I wore a pair of high-heeled wedge sandals that added height as I took Dean in at eye level. I'd worn my dark brown hair down in soft waves and applied light makeup—aside from a heavy emphasis on my green eyes. I felt feminine, a feeling I'd long missed since my daily wardrobe at home consisted of yoga pants. Dean's appraisal of me now made me feel even more so.

"You look absolutely stunning," he said as he walked up to me and gave me a brief hug in greeting.

"Thank you, you look nice as well," I commented, letting my eyes take him in.

"I was invited," he said carefully, as he weighed my reaction to him, "by your mom."

"Of course you were," I said in slight amusement.

"Dean! Oh, honey, you came!" My mom said, stepping between us to give him a long hug. I took a step back and blew out a frustrated breath as my mom rambled on.

"Dear God, you are gorgeous!" she complimented as she hugged him again, giving me a subtle wink. I rolled my eyes.

"Dean, what are you drinking?" I snapped rudely, which got me an amused look from both of them.

"Scotch?" he asked my mom, who nodded.

"I've got it," I said, walking out of the room, but not before I heard her tell him. "Give her time. She'll come around." I paused, waiting on his reply.

"I'm counting on it."

Don't hold your breath, asshat.

As strong as my attraction to him might've been, I had no intention of giving in. The sooner they accepted it, the better. They could plot all they wanted. Every day I was determined to get stronger in my resolve and more confident in my decision with regards to my life. I returned to the living room, Dean's scotch in my hand as he shook hands with my dad, both of them smiling.

"It's so good to see you, Dean," my dad said, patting his back as they chatted away. I held Dean's drink toward him, eager to escape the love fest. Dean took it without looking my way.

"You're welcome," I said heatedly as he leaned over and brushed my cheek in the most tender kiss.

"Thank you," he said, nodding in my direction before ripping his eyes away from mine and concentrating on my dad's words. I stood motionless for a few seconds, then turned on my heel.

"You must be so proud of them," Dean said, humoring my dad, though I heard a sense of pride in his voice as well.

"Hellooo!" Rose called from the entryway.

"Oh!" I said, turning the corner and froze when I took in the sight before me. Grant was brushing her hair away from her face as he murmured in her ear. She looked absolutely beautiful as she smiled and nodded before chasing his words with a soft kiss. Grant saw me first.

"Dallas." He smiled as he made his way toward me. I stood motionless, unsure of how to greet him, before he pulled me in a long hug. The first thing that hit me was the sheer size of him. He must have stood six-foot-four and had the build of a lumberjack. He felt like he was made of stone as he swallowed me in his arms. He pulled back, smiling as I caught his deep blue eyes twinkling. I was instantly smitten. He was a beautiful man, and warmness emanated from his every pore. "I promise I'll be so good to her. I'll be a good brother, too."

My eyes watered as I nodded to him, and he pulled me in for another hug. My eyes met my sister's over his shoulder as she teared up herself. Wow .

There was something comforting about Grant's presence, something that made him special, and I wasn't immune to it. My mom and dad came in to greet them both, and after they were welcomed with words of congratulations and fierce hugs, the champagne began to flow, and the music started. Rose had decided to have a small wedding on New Year's Eve. I watched her and Grant make their rounds to greet their guests. Grant shook Dean's hand, and I could tell that he, too, was impressed with him as I listened to their conversation. Grant seemed to be naturally honest and had an air about him that people seemed to embrace. Rose was absolutely glowing as she watched him.

My mom beamed at the happy couple as I watched the two of them steal a kiss or give each other a knowing look. It was insanely intimate, and I could feel their connection and found myself a little envious of what they shared. More so, I was elated that Rose had found Grant. He had long jet-black hair that suited him. He was no Dean Martin, but I had no doubt he'd been a heartbreaker just the same. I watched as he caressed my sister's hand and adored her with his eyes. They were breathtaking.

"It's a beautiful thing to watch," Dean said, taking me by surprise. "You used to look at your parents that way."

"I still do," I admitted as Grant pulled Rose's hand to his lips, kissing her knuckles before turning to give his attention to my mom.

"I like him. They seem good together," he said before turning to me. I ripped my eyes away from my sister to look over at him. His eyes were roaming my body.

"Would you like some more scotch?" I asked, still playing hostess.

"No," he said roughly.

"Dean—"

"What I want is to throw you over my shoulder, drive you back to my house, and make love to you all day long and every day after that for the rest of your life."

I pushed out a shaky breath.

"You used to look at me that way," he said, his voice full of remorse, his face filled with longing. "I'd give anything to have that look back. I want you with every single breath I take. Familiar or not, I want all of you."

Paralyzed by his confession and unable to tear my eyes away, I stood on my newly shaky legs, completely speechless. Dean had never been a subtle man, especially when it came to the way he felt about me—aside from hiding his feelings in high school. Our adult relationship had been the opposite. Dean had never once held back from expressing precisely what he wanted me to know about himself, how he felt about me, and what our relationship meant to him. It kept me more than sated in our union. It was one of the reasons I'd trusted him so explicitly when we were together and why I'd fallen so damn hard .

He'd never made me guess about his whereabouts, never purposefully made me jealous. He never played games with me. I always knew where I stood, and it was always as his first priority. I lied to Ollie about the fact that he'd been a shitty boyfriend. He'd been an amazing friend and lover. A flood of memories came back all at once, rushing to the surface and making their presence known. These memories consisted of nothing but the talks we used to have about our future. Days and nights filled with endless laughter and fantastic sex, rainy days spent studying while trying to remain dressed in my dorm room, our summer at the lake, and the last insurmountable night Dean had called me his own. Fighting with him had even been enjoyable in its own right. I saw all these things in the crystal blue depths of his eyes. He was a passionate man—much like his mom—a natural romantic. It never felt forced with him, only natural. I'd never left his side without a smile, or his bed without feeling completely full of him—confident in our relationship.

"You remember," he whispered as he pulled my hand to his beautiful full lips and placed small sensual kisses against my knuckles before letting it go. I nodded in agreement to his statement. We were beautiful. If not the same, then even more so than Rose and her fiancé. Loud laughter filled the room next to us as the front door opened, and Josh walked in then froze. Our posture was intimate, though we were feet apart as he openly glared at us.

"I'll refill my own glass, thank you." Dean acknowledged Josh with a nod as he made his way back to the party.

"Why the hell is he here?" Josh said, irritated as he scanned me from head to toe as he approached me.

"My mom invited him. He's an old friend of the family. Rose wanted him here," I defended .

"I thought he was an old college friend," he bit out viciously, unable to hide his distaste.

"I've known him since high school," I said, dreading his reaction.

"I got my shift covered at the last minute and thought I'd surprise you. Looks like you weren't missing me," he hissed, leaning in possessively.

"Stop it. Don't act like a jerk. This is an important night for my sister," I scolded. "Don't act pissy around my family."

"Fine, you're right, but you promised me you would stay away from him."

"Again, I didn't invite him, but he's not going anywhere. You might want to get used to that," I said defiantly as he gripped my wrist, turning me to face him.

"And I'm not supposed to take offense to that? I'm thinking maybe you don't want me here. It's written all over your face."

"Suit yourself," I said, ripping my wrist away and rubbing the soreness out from his too-tight grip.

"Josh," my dad greeted, "come and see my newest design." I mouthed a thank you to my dad, who seemed to be picking up on the animosity between us.

"Sir, it's good to see you," he replied, shaking his hand. I looked up to see Dean had watched the scene play out. His deadly gaze was fixed on Josh. I shook my head at him, then turned my attention to Rose.

Now was not the time. I hurried upstairs to get myself together. I walked into the bathroom, seeing evidence of my arousal from Dean's words all over my face. I shook it off. I didn't want to entertain it any further, or I was sure I would happily let him whisk me away to fulfill his promise to touch me the way I craved him. Every word I'd said, every promise I'd made to myself fell away with Dean's words. I couldn't stop shaking. If I gave in to Dean, what would that say about me? I'd come so far from the girl who had begged him not to break her heart in New York, from the fifteen-year-old who vied desperately for his attention. No matter what decision I made about Dean, I was becoming more resolute about Josh. He was right. I hadn't wanted him there. I should've been relieved when he showed up. I'd been slowly withdrawing from him—and he knew it—but I refused to let Dean be the reason.

"There you are," Rose said as I descended the stairs. "I feel like I haven't seen you at all."

"I've been playing hostess, but I'm all yours," I said cheerfully.

"Come on, let's go hit our spot," she said, grabbing my hand. She led me out to my mom's rose garden, where we took a seat on the cedar bench. It had been a rendezvous point for the women of our family for as long as I could remember.

"He's beautiful, Rose, truly," I complimented as she smiled broadly.

"He's so much more than that."

I noticed her demeanor change and asked, "What? What's wrong?"

"Things are too good, you know? It's a miracle I found him, or actually, he found me. Do you know what his first words to me were?"

Feeling the guilt associated with not knowing a damn thing, I quickly remedied it by saying, "Tell me everything."

"He introduced himself to me on campus as the man who was going to marry me." She laughed, her eyes distant with the memory. She told me how their whirlwind romance started and how he was dating a woman who was in medical school that had attended her first class when she literally ran into him. He'd watched her squirm under his stare for the entire three-hour lecture before professing to her in a crowded hallway that she was it for him.

"I thought he was insane," she said thoughtfully, "but then I got to know who he really was and…God, sorry, I'm babbling."

"As you should, Rose, it's a really cool story. Please forgive me for not being a better sister."

"We're both so busy. One day, we will get to all of it," she promised, and I nodded. "How about tonight I stay here with you, and we do just that?"

"No way, this is your engagement party. I'm sure your fiancé wants to take you home and ravage you. How about next week? Just you and me, okay?"

"Deal." She smiled. "So, I see Dean and Josh are both here," she remarked, raising her perfect strawberry-blonde brow at me. "What are you going to do?"

"Drink," I said, clinking my champagne glass against hers.

"So, with Dean, anything there?"

"Too much." Admitting the truth to my sister felt good. I was done with denial half an hour ago with Dean's admission. I'd been running from the truth long enough.

"And Josh?" she asked carefully.

I shook my head no. I'd been fighting that inevitability long enough as well.

"Hey, beautiful," Grant called from inside the door. "Come on. I have something for you." We both stood up, and I gave her a brief hug before she joined Grant. I followed them both in. I looked to see everyone gathered around. A piece of canvas sat on top of my dad's model table, which now sat on our kitchen table. My dad encouraged Rose to unveil it, and we all waited silently, excited for her reaction. Our brother Paul stood with his arms wrapped around Hilary with impatience in his eyes as Rose jumped in response .

"Oh, Grant," she exclaimed, looking at the model of her future home. "It's perfect."

"We're going to build it for you, sweetheart," my dad said, meeting Paul's eyes with a nod, his pride in his ability to make her dream home a reality. Rose had mentioned that Grant owned some land they were planning to build a house on. She threw herself into my dad's arms as she cried happy tears, then my dad made a toast. Everyone in the room clinked glasses, and I felt arms slide around me as Josh apologized sweetly in my ear.

"I'm sorry. I love you," he said, kissing my cheek, his warmth radiating from him. I nodded as I looked up to see Dean watching us. His expression was pained as he looked on at Rose. He stood still for several seconds before setting his glass down on the counter and walking out of the room. Feeling the need to go to him, I excused myself from Josh just as my dad recruited him to bring out the cake.

"Dean." I stopped him at the door.

"Please apologize for me," he said, opening the door, then closing it behind him. I opened it, stepping out, and grabbing his arm. "I can't fucking take this," he said as he faced me, his lips coming in hard and fast. I pushed him away with a fierce "No."

He stumbled away, the hurt on his face ripping into me.

"It's not right. You can't just throw a fit when you don't get what you want. You're better than this."

"You're right," he said, fumbling in his pocket for his keys. "It won't happen again." I nodded as he took a step forward. "But don't think for one second that I'm giving up on you. I'll be patient and wait for you to do…whatever it is you need to do."

"I'm doing the right thing, Dean," I argued.

"Bullshit," he said, cupping the back of my head and forcing me to face him. "You're cowering away in your corner with a safe bet. You don't want to hurt him, I understand that, but you're only going to hurt him in the long run."

"You're pretty confident about that, aren't you, you smug bastard? You're so sure I'll come running back to you." He dropped his hand and closed his eyes tightly.

" I'm running back to you, Dallas. Can't you see that?"

"Took you long enough," I said sarcastically.

He backed me up against the door, his frustration rolling off him.

"Does it feel good to see me like this? Completely fucking ruined that he gets to touch you when I can't? That I'll go home tonight out of my mind because he gets to have your smiles, your laugh, and your body? Because if having me like this is what you're aiming for, I'm there." I shook my head furiously as he leaned in closer.

"I'm not intentionally trying to make you feel any certain way. You damn men and your egos. He's my boyfriend . You have no right to feel this way or to guilt me for being his." I exhaled as he pushed away from the door, backing away slowly. "I've explained this to you repeatedly. You put yourself in this situation and have given me nothing but hell about it ever since."

"Maybe," he said, "and maybe I'm finally doing what you wanted me to years ago. I'll keep fighting for you, Dallas, until you realize I'm not going anywhere."

"Looks like it to me," I said as he clasped his keys in his hands.

"Seriously," he said as if I was the one being completely unreasonable.

"Get your entitled ass back into that house, spend the evening with my family—a family who embraced you as one of their own for half your life, might I add—and congratulate my sister. Right now, you're acting like an ass. You don't deserve my loyalty or theirs by pulling this crap."

He looked shocked as he absorbed my words.

"You have no right to touch me, Dean, or to ask me to leave my ‘safe bet,' or anything else for that matter. You have no right to judge my life or how I live it. I asked you to be a friend, not put yourself in direct competition with the man who's held my hand through the last year of my life. He deserves my loyalty and faithfulness. You want to make me believe you, that you're sincere about your feelings for me, fine. I'm giving you that chance now."

I walked back into the house and downed a glass of champagne, trying to drown out the heat I felt from our exchange. No matter how I felt about my relationship with Josh, I owed it to him to stay faithful for as long as it lasted. I'd already blown it by returning Dean's kiss.

I joined Josh in the kitchen and passed out several slices of cake as Dean strolled in through the back door with his arm around Paul. They seemed to be on the tail end of a serious discussion. I gave Dean a questioning look, and he answered with a wink and a knowing look and turned his attention back to Paul. I smiled slowly.

He came back.

The last few hours of the party played out smoothly. I watched as my sister and her fiancé said their farewells to the guests as they made their way out. Dean made it a point to be the last to say goodbye, and I couldn't help but smile at him as he gave me a small amount of attitude with his curt goodbye. He even went as far as shaking Josh's hand. Josh reluctantly took it, the unspoken promise of a good ass kicking lingering between them both. I pulled Josh back, wished Dean a good night, and noted his eyes brushing over our clasped hands.

It's always a whirring sound. They sound nothing like trains like I'd been told. It was silent except for the never-ending whipping of the wind that surrounded me. In this dream, there were three of them circling and growing closer. I'd been in this dream before a thousand times. I shouldn't be afraid, but still, I was terrified. I was in a field with absolutely no shelter. Three cylindrical clouds destroying everything in their path. The horizon was filled with light as the tornadoes mocked the peaceful skyline with their overbearing and destructive presence. The space between them and me was vast, and yet I could feel the wind lashing my face. I felt their eminence. They were coming…They were coming for me. Their path was clear by the way they surrounded me. The field's blades started thrashing erratically as the fear set in. I screamed, but nothing came out. I felt helpless, hopeless. They were coming …

I woke up choking and gasping, a scream lodged in my throat. I turned to see Josh sleeping peacefully as I tried desperately to catch my breath. I let the tears fall silently as the feeling of complete despair stayed with me.

Tornadoes. Always the fucking tornadoes.

I evened out my breathing, then grabbed my robe, wrapping it around me. It wasn't always the same scenario, but it was so close there was no mistaking the dream—and its effect on me remained the same.

Pure devastation.

I used to think it was a blessing to remember my dreams, especially the ones where I took flight. They were exhilarating. Now I looked at the recollection of them as more of a curse. They were vivid, and sometimes they hurt and could ruin an entire day of my life. Today, in particular, not all the soap and water in the world could wash away the sick feeling that lingered.

I knew exactly where that dream stemmed from.

I was covered in sweat. I looked through Josh's blinds as the sun peeked through the buildings of downtown Dallas. I made my way to his shower, staying as quiet as possible. I didn't want him to see me this way.

I heard the shower door open and greeted Josh with a cold-shouldered "Hi."

"Good morning," he murmured, wrapping his arms around my waist. I pulled away from him and immediately felt him stiffen behind me. I'd denied him sex after the party and blamed a headache as the reason for my early retreat to bed. But as of this morning, I was done lying.

"Dallas, please let me touch you," he demanded, turning me to face him. "I haven't seen you in weeks. I miss you. I need to feel you."

"Josh, we need to talk," I said, pulling myself out of the shower and grabbing a towel. I looked to see his face fall as he followed me out.

"It's him. It's Dean, isn't it?" Josh said, wrapping a towel around his waist.

"No, it's us," I said softly, unable to look at him as he stood before me.

"What is it, Dallas? I'm a patient man, but I can only handle so much. I saw the way you looked at him at that party. And what in the hell is wrong with us?" he asked, his voice growing more impatient.

"I'm sorry. This just isn't going to work," I offered as I turned to get my clothes.

"No fucking way, Dallas. You don't get to pull this crap on me and walk away." He rounded the corner and caught my arm .

"I'm sorry. I've been thinking a lot about us, and I just don't see a future," I said, shoving my legs into my scrubs as quickly as humanly possible.

"This isn't about our future. No, this is about some fucking guy that wants his way back into your pants and has got you confused," he argued, pulling my shirt away from me as I tried to put it on. I tugged at the end, and we ended up in a slight tug-of-war, which I lost. I sat on the bed in defeat as I stared at my feet.

"Look at me, Dallas," he commanded, his voice hoarse with emotion. "If you're going to rip my fucking heart out, the least you can do is look at me," he reasoned. I looked up to see his face filled with hurt. "I was going to ask you to be my wife."

I looked at him evenly. "And what would I have said, Josh? I already told you I didn't want to move in with you. Why would you even think about marriage?"

He picked up the clock that was next to his bed and threw it against the wall.

"I knew this was going to happen the night I saw you at that fucking restaurant!" He fumed around me, pacing back and forth as I stared at the now-ruined drywall.

"Well, I didn't," I said softly. "This has nothing to do with him and everything to do with the way I feel about you."

"Bullshit, stop fucking lying to me. Did you fuck him?" he asked, standing over me.

"Of course not!" I barked back, taking my shirt from the floor and putting it on. "And this is not about him. This is about what you deserve, and it's not me. I can't give you marriage. I can't even give you half of that," I said, trying to reason my way through it.

The truth was there was no right way to break up with someone. My girlfriend Cammie once told me that in a relationship, one always loves the other a little more. And the truth for me was, though I never wanted to be in the wrong position again, I knew the reward of being the one hopelessly in love.

There was no comparison, and my heart refused to settle.

I should've done this a lot sooner. I hated the way I knew I was making Josh feel more than the idea of the breakup. I knew better. I had done this to him. I had strung him along, and I needed to face whatever hurt I caused him. I knew this pain, and it surpassed everything else I'd ever felt.

He stopped his pacing to face me. "I didn't just want to get married. It wasn't something I had to have. I wanted to marry you. There's a big fucking difference." He stood before me, lifting my chin to tilt my head so I was forced to meet his watery eyes. "Don't do this. Please, baby. I love you," he pleaded.

"I don't love you the same way," I said softly but firmly. "And I think you know that. I think you've known it for a while," I said, seeing the truth in his eyes.

"So what if I did? I don't care," he said, placing a kiss on my jaw, his arms surrounding me.

"You will, and it's not fair to me, either." I stepped out of his grasp, then pulled my hair through a tie. "Josh, I'm sorry. I should have done this sooner. I had no right to—"

"Just go," he said, walking toward his bathroom.

"This is how you say goodbye to me?" I implored with watery eyes, my voice cracking.

He turned in the doorway, his towel still wrapped around him as I admired his chiseled chest—it was impossible not to. "What do you want to hear, Dallas? Oh, I know what you want. ‘We can be friends.' No, I don't want to be your fucking friend. I don't want to talk a few months down the road as if I never loved you—was never inside you. I'm not that guy."

At least we agreed on that because I wasn't that girl, either.

"I understand," I said with a nod. I looked up at him, seeing the twist in his features that tore a piece of me in half. "I do love you—"

"Don't you fucking dare," he hissed before walking into the bathroom and slamming the door.

I understood that too…all too well. I left with everything I'd ever brought to his place.

My heart plummeted as I walked out of his apartment for the last time. The death of our friendship would have me grieving for a lifetime. I'd just lost him.

Josh.