Chapter Eleven

"Dally, wake up!"

I heard my name in the distance and managed to get out of the way of the first cloud. It had come dangerously close to me. I ran faster, harder, trying to avoid the second angry vortex, and fell to my knees as the wind knocked me over .

"Dallas!" I opened my eyes and looked up to see concern etched on Dean's face as he hovered over me. I muffled a sob in his chest as he held me close. He rolled over, pulling me to him as I cried harder than I had in years. It was the first time the tornadoes had actually gotten to me. I couldn't control my shaking as he held me tightly, murmuring words of comfort as I let go. When the last of my tears were drying, he tilted my head up, pressing a kiss to my forehead.

"Just a dream," I answered him before he had a chance to ask.

"A nightmare, maybe. Do you have those often?" He pushed the hair away from my face and then cupped my chin.

"For a while now. It's not every night."

"When was the last time you had one?"

"I don't remember," I lied, holding him tighter to me. His frown told me he didn't believe me, but he left it alone. I pulled myself to straddle him and saw his eyes heat.

"I didn't mean to scare you," I pushed out shakily as he looked up at me, eyes trailing down from my face to my bare breasts and back up again.

"I wish I could keep them away," he said softly.

I felt him grow hard beneath me and lifted myself, the tip of him at my entrance.

"I need you to chase them away, Dean." I watched his eyes light fire as I slid down on top of him. My body adjusted to his size as he let out a low, guttural moan. He watched me as I lifted up slowly and fell back down with all my weight, making us both cry out. He cupped my breasts as his eyes remained glued to mine, his mouth parted, his eyes hooded as he bit his lip. I found it sexy as hell and began to move, taking all of him deep inside me. He brushed his thumb over his tongue and circled my clit, and I came quickly after. Still connected to me, he moved me beneath him, lacing our fingers as he thrust slowly inside me, stroking me deep but never breaking our locked eyes.

He came minutes later with my name on his lips like a prayer, his heart pounding in his chest. He never lost his grip on me as he adjusted our bodies so he was spooning me, and our legs became entangled.

"Way to go, Martin."

We both chuckled before drifting back into a deep sleep.

"I've got to say, Dallas, you're looking better every day. Wouldn't have anything to do with an extremely tall, dark, and handsome doctor, would it?" Beatrice looked at me expectantly as I buried my face in my hands and, with it, my deep smile.

"Oh, honey, please give me something. I've been striking out at every turn. Humor a sick old lady. "

"Never been the type to kiss and tell," I muffled into my hands, peeking over my fingers.

"Fine, at least tell me if it's him," she said in a whisper as a small group of nurses walked by.

"Of course it is," I confirmed, grabbing my tablet and opening my appointment schedule.

"Uh huh." She picked up the phone, answered, and held her finger up to me to keep me where I was. "I will let him know." She put the phone back down.

"I'm happy for you, honey. Just remember he has a penis."

"And?"

"Oh honey, you really need me to spell this out for you?"

I nodded before I said the words, dying for this explanation. "I think I do."

"If he has a penis—"

I felt my phone vibrate and looked down at the text.

DEAN: I am really sick of you using me for my body. I think you should at least treat me to dinner once in a while.

I laughed out loud, and Beatrice grumbled under her breath about being too far gone to listen to good advice. It had been two weeks since he'd brought me back to his house, and I'd barely left. I had finally agreed to bring over a few changes of clothes and had only slept in my own bed once—and alone. The rest of the time, we made it work between our mad schedules. I was working endless hours in oncology, and when I wasn't working with cases of my own, I was studying old cases similar to the ones I was diagnosing. I was making progress, and Dean had kept his promise to me by taking only the time I had to spare. He listened to my daily recap with interest, telling me about his own. I could only hope it remained another one of the reasons for the extra spring in my step. The deep gash in my chest seemed to be healing as the days passed. I knew I would eventually have questions I wanted answers to, but for now, I was happy with simply filling in the blanks.

It seemed the other half of my heart had returned, blazing a trail into the center of my universe, not suffocating any part of me as I feared. Dean only made my world brighter and better with each step we took together—and toward each other.

Today I had lunch to look forward to. Cammie, my old college roommate—who also roomed with me my first two years of medical school—was coming to see me for the first time since she moved to Oklahoma. She had signed on with her dad's practice in Oklahoma City, and we hadn't been able to see each other much since our trip after graduation. I greeted her with a hug in the cafeteria. We had agreed to have lunch in the hospital. I wanted to talk to her before I reintroduced her to Dean. She sat with her salad, eyeing the people around us. We made small talk, and she told me about her life in Oklahoma and how she was seriously thinking of joining me at Dallas Memorial. We discussed the possibility of her joining my practice in the next few years.

"So…any hotties here?"

"A few," I answered vaguely.

"Oh shit, someone new? Since Josh?"

"Kind of," I said with a smile. "I want you to be happy for me, okay? So, promise me you will hear me out."

"He comes with a warning? This can't be good." Cammie had always been a bit leery of the opposite sex. She had no problem entertaining them but had absolutely zero tolerance for bullshit, which made her list of exes a long one. I'd always admired her for it, and at the same time, it made me dread this conversation all the more. I opened my mouth to speak when I was cut off.

"Hello, ladies. Wow, is that you, Cammie?" I stiffened upon hearing Dean's voice. Cammie's smile faded instantly as she looked up and saw Dean giving her a shit-eating grin. I braced myself.

"What in the fuck is he doing here?" She gave me an expectant look, and I shook my head. Cammie brushed her box-colored auburn hair out of her eyes and glared at Dean.

"Dean, give us a minute?" I looked up to see a stunned look on his face. He wasn't used to this kind of reception. I hadn't expected them to run into each other at all. Dean had told me he was on his way to an appointment when we spoke just before I met up with her.

"Is this who you're seeing?" She leaned back in her seat, crossing her arms, her face reddening with anger. I started to panic as words failed me. This wasn't supposed to happen. I was going to talk to her at lunch to test the waters and then possibly invite her for drinks later. I could see now it was a grave error in judgment. Waves of anger rolled off of her as she looked between Dean and me for a long minute. I saw her resolve take shape as she turned her attention to me.

"Are you out of your fucking mind? Do you not remember! Or should I remind you?"

I looked up at Dean, who was shifting his attention to me with a question in his eyes.

"Dean, I'll see you later, okay? Just let me talk to Cammie."

"I'm sorry. I'm not following what is going on here," he said apologetically to Cammie, taking a seat next to us.

"Of course you aren't," she said dryly. "Please, Dallas, please tell me you aren't really doing this."

"Cammie," I begged softly, looking back to Dean, who refused to leave. "Dean, please go."

"Do you want to tell him, or should I?" I whipped my attention to Cammie and saw the inevitable confrontation on her face. She had no intention of backing down.

"Cammie, let it go," I warned, my voice deadly. I felt the fire spread in my chest as my limbs trembled from her threat.

"No fucking way," she seethed. "No way, Dallas. You can't keep pretendin—"

"Let it go!" I yelled, grabbing the attention of everyone in the cafeteria. "Please," I begged softly.

"No," she said quietly, glaring at Dean. "He needs to know." I watched as she turned to Dean with as much hate rolling off her as I'd ever seen from her 5'3" frame. "She miscarried your baby four months after you left for Columbia."

Dean shot back in his seat, disbelief covering his features.

Cammie continued, not at all fazed by my threatening posture or Dean's reaction. "The morning after her college graduation, I found her curled up on your beloved fraternity steps. She was damn near hypothermic from freezing to death, waiting for you! She still believed you would come! Oh, and then there's the Adderall freak-out. Did you tell him about that?"

"Jesus Christ, Dallas!" Dean boomed. I stood quickly in an attempt to flee the scene unfolding.

"How could you do this to me?" I said hoarsely, tears streaming down my face as I glared at my friend. She had every right to hate him. Cammie exclusively had every right not to want him around me. She was all I had when he left, the only one I had let in. She had dealt with the complete mess I became when Dean left. She suffered everything with me—the loss of the baby, the death of me when I'd returned from New York, and everything else leading up to the last straw three years later, the night I graduated college.

She kept her voice down even though the damage was done. "You wouldn't let me call your parents or your sister. You wouldn't even let me call him, and this is the asshole responsible!"

"For what I did to myself?" I said, trying to reason with her. Dean was staring at me, but I avoided it. I couldn't let him see me like this. I felt the anger take over in that moment. I welcomed it.

"Thanks for the visit, Cammie. Don't be a stranger." I didn't bother looking at Dean as he stood up next to me, and I walked quickly away from the table.

"Don't you dare," Dean hissed behind me. "Dallas!"

"She won't talk to you about it," Cammie piped sarcastically behind me, "She won't talk to anyone. If I hadn't been there, I would have never known. Don't think for one minute you weren't responsible. I watched her go from a happy, confident, and beautiful twenty-year-old to a complete fucking—"

I couldn't hear anymore. I knew what I had done. I knew I had taken the loss of both Dean and our baby to extremes. I wasn't exaggerating when I told my mom I'd lost it. I'd lost our baby, followed quickly by losing Dean, and then I'd lost my mind.

And before he waltzed into my life, I had just gotten it back. My fear was not unfounded. Dean had completely consumed me again, and I'd let him. I made it as far as the small hallway leading into the courtyard when he caught up with me.

"Stop!" It wasn't a request. It was an order. I felt the hallway narrow and put my hand up to steady myself. I never wanted him to know. Never. I'd kept it from everyone, even Rose. I turned to face him. He was beyond angry.

"What the hell were you think—"

"No, you fucking stop," I warned. "Don't. If we have a hope of a future together, you'll let this go and never ask me about it again."

"Don't you dare threaten me with that! "

"It's the only way. If you push this, Dean, we are over," I warned.

"What the hell do you mean?"

"I told you. It's simple. You missed a lot of years."

"Fine, you aren't the girl I left. I'll take my chances. Dallas, how could you have not told me you were pregnant?" his voice cracked. "Or that you lost—"

"That's right," I snapped. " I lost. You didn't know any fucking differently."

His eyes widened at my vicious snap.

"If I had known—"

"You'd what?" I walked toward him, catching him off guard. "You would've come back to me then? Say the words. Tell me a baby would've changed your mind so I can hate you more than I do!"

"Hate me…Dallas, I didn't know."

"Tell me, Dean, when would've been a good time to tell you? You just stopped calling. I found out a week after you decided I wasn't important to you anymore. Two weeks after that, it was too late."

"In New York, you never said a word."

"Why would I? You were done. Would that have been a better time?" I took another step toward him, all my anger and hurt coming back in waves.

Dean's eyes watered as he studied me.

"I would've never seen you again after Christmas break. If I hadn't flown to New York, it would've been over the night you boarded that plane and left me here. When you left Texas, you were done with me. Everything you promised me was a lie." I took another step forward, glaring at him. "Everything Cammie said is the truth, and it was so much worse than what you could imagine, Dean. You wouldn't even have recognized me if you would have come back. So, I guess it was for the best. Don't worry. I never blamed you for the baby."

His face crumbled as he palmed his forehead, his tears falling rapidly.

"Save it. It turns out that water can't wash away everything, Dean."

"Dallas," he croaked, his voice bleeding as I walked out the door. "I came back for you."

The whirring sound was the hardest for me to deal with, always letting me know they were coming. I braced myself for their arrival, but it was always the threat of them that hurt the most. I couldn't help but ask for quick mercy. I was so tired, so weak. For the first time in this dream, I wanted them to catch up with me. The golden sky was mocking me. I felt anything but warmth as I stared at the sun surrounded by tornadoes. I clutched my chest, willing myself to be brave as I started to walk toward them. It was time…

POUND…POUND…POUND!

I shot out of bed, my chest heaving, and looked at my clock—9:00 P.M.

I was covered in sweat but was already stumbling toward the door. The pounding began again as I fumbled between sleep and reality, still reeling from my dream. I opened my door only to close it when I saw Dean's angry face.

"If you wanted to avoid me, you should've gone somewhere else," he snapped, catching the door and pushing it open, forcing his way past me.

"Sorry, my mistake. I didn't realize it was no longer safe to go home," I snapped back, the sarcasm dripping off every word. I raced to the kitchen, my throat dry and my head pounding. I downed a bottle of water as he glared at me from the other side of my bar. I gave him a weary look as I took a bottle of Patron out and poured two shots, setting one in front of him while downing my own. The burn was welcome as I prayed for a quick buzz. The dream had left me raw and emotional, and I wanted nothing more than to feel numb again.

Dean capped the Patron. I shrugged and grabbed his shot, downing it.

"I want answers," he said, moving the bottle out of my reach.

"You haven't asked any questions." I grabbed a paper towel and dampened it, wiping off my face.

Dean's face softened as he took in my appearance. I had to look like hell. I was shaking from the nightmare and covered in sweat.

"Another dream?"

"Yeah, look, I need a shower. I have work tomorrow. Can we do this later?"

"No," he said adamantly.

I glared at him, took in his disheveled appearance, and burst out laughing. His clothes were mismatched, and his hair was tucked under a ball cap.

"Well, there's a first. Mr. Perfect looks like a bum. Tell me, Dean, is this the first time you've ever left your house without your argyle socks?"

His eyes lit fire as he took a step toward me. "I'm fucking warning you now, Dallas. Stop."

"Or what, you'll go find my iron?" I knew I was being impossible. I was good at it. Jokes were how I'd dealt with everything that hurt too much or terrified me.

He quickly grabbed the tequila bottle, apparently changing his mind about it. He took two shots from the glasses I set out before his eyes found mine, holding me where I stood.

"We were doing so good ." I laughed with no humor. He slammed his glass on the counter, making me jump.

"Cut the shit. Tell me why you didn't say anything." I'd hoped to resume our relationship without dredging up the most painful part of my life, but I knew now that hope was ridiculous. The memory of those days of devastation after losing our baby were the solid foundation of the wall I held up against Dean. Some part of me—though it was irrational—had always blamed him.

"I didn't know for the first two months. I've skipped periods once or twice a year since I started. It was perfectly normal. Then I started getting sick, but I was already sick most of the time. I was upset—a lot. I missed you. The whole fucking campus was a graveyard filled with memories of the two of us. Did you think it would be easy for me? You had all new surroundings. I had to resume life without you there. Everywhere I looked, I saw the two of us. It was just like high school all over again, except this time it wasn't just a crush."

"We spoke almost every day," he reminded me, his hands flat on the counter.

"I know. I hid it well," I said, looking down at the floor.

"Look at me," he snapped, and I obliged. "Why did you hide it?"

"Well, let's see. You had just started medical school."

"That's no excuse."

"You say that now, Dean, now , and after the fact, but that was your dream. I didn't want to take it away from you. And telling you I was pregnant would have done that. I was mortified. I didn't want to be the one to take it away. "

"I would've been here," he insisted. I watched him go through the emotions and shook my head.

"You have no idea what your true reaction would've been. You can't look at me today and say you wouldn't have resented me—or the baby."

"Baby…" he trailed off, absently rubbing his finger up and down the shot glass. "Were you going to keep it?"

"Yes," I answered without hesitation. "I was happy about it. I just wasn't sure you would be." I braved a look at him and saw unshed tears in his eyes.

"Four months?" His question was a whisper.

"Almost," I answered. "When I lost it, I just flipped. I couldn't get in touch with you. You refused to answer my calls, so I went to see you in New York. I was going to tell you, but when you told me we were over, I decided not to."

He looked at me as if I'd slapped him. "If I would've known…Damn you, Dallas, I can't fucking believe this!"

"I told you! I told you in New York! I told you I was losing my mind and that I couldn't handle being apart. I needed you! Why wasn't I enough?"

"You were," he said quickly.

"Bullshit, that's not what you just said. The baby would've brought you home, not your love for me. I can't live with that! I can't! I hate you for saying it, feeling it, thinking it. Because I loved you so much, Dean. I lived for you. I breathed you. I couldn't stop. When I lost the baby and then you, I couldn't hang on! I didn't. I fucked up, really bad and often." I took an angry step forward and leaned over the counter. "Why wasn't I enough? You fell in love with some woman, and I was here drowning, mourning the loss of our baby, thinking of nothing but you and you didn't fucking care! You were gone, and I did what I always do. I began a pattern after you left me a second time. I fucked up." I poured two more shots of tequila and threw them back, then poured out the contents of the bottle. I didn't want the temptation or the horrible hangover, and I was already comfortably numb.

He took a step toward me.

"No, no!" I held my hand up, stopping him, and threw the bottle in the sink. "The thing is—and it might have taken me a long time to admit it—you didn't do anything wrong. You went to college, Dean, and you broke up with the girlfriend holding you down back home. I predicted it, remember? I told you not to make promises you know we couldn't keep. You didn't do anything wrong. Our relationship clearly just meant more to me." I laughed again dryly. " A lot more."

I looked him right in the eye and told him what I'd been holding inside for seven years.

"I believed you would come for me, even after New York. I believed you would keep your promise, and you never came. Instead, you got engaged to someone else while I waited in vain."

"I didn't meet her until the end of the year," he offered weakly.

"It doesn't matter."

"It all matters!" he spit out. "You think you're the only one who suffered? I might not have been here, but you weren't there either. You didn't see the hell I went through to try and forget you. You think I just started fucking around and forgot all about the woman I'd been in love with for years and just moved on? You weren't the only one in love. You weren't the only one ripped apart. And our relationship meant everything to me. I proposed to you! I wanted to be your husband, and you never really took me seriously! You always held my past against me and never really gave me a fucking chance to be sincere—to prove my love when I left. You were too busy dismissing me because I slept with a few women while we weren't together."

"A few," I scoffed.

"Yes, Dallas, I was never the playboy I was made out to be. I had my share, as did every other fucking teenage guy on the planet. You know goddamn well I was faithful to you. I loved you so much I was willing to give up Columbia, but goddamnit, you pushed me away. If I would've known my baby was inside you, I would've—" He glared at me before he began to visibly shake. "That was my baby! Mine! I deserved to know. I deserved to know!" He slammed his fist on the counter as his tears fell one by one. He did nothing to hide them. "That baby was a part of you and me. So yes, Dallas, I would've come running." He scrubbed his face as his shoulders slumped forward.

"I never got over us, Dallas. I may have been silent—just as silent as you've been—but I never got over that day in New York. I didn't want you to give up your dreams for me any more than you allowed me to stop chasing mine, but this …" On his face, all I saw was pure devastation. "You had no right to keep any of it from me," he bit out bitterly. "I watch couples go through hell to have a child every day. I see their pain when they lose the battle. You went through that alone…" He shook his head as if he was still having a hard time believing the truth.

"I got depressed. It was severe. I got lost…and then I got over it. I moved on, Dean. I became a doctor, and now that's all I want to do. This thing between us almost cost me my career."

"And what about us now?"

Wiping the matching tears off my face, I straightened my shoulders. "We tried."

"No. Fuck no, Dallas," he protested as he came toward me.

"I can't be with you, not if you look at me like that. It was different when you didn't know about…what happened. "

"And you think that our relationship would've worked with you keeping this from me?" he asked, incredulous.

"I don't want guilt or pity. I don't want to know how sorry you are. And I want you to stop fighting a lost cause." The hole in my chest expanded, and I squared my shoulders, ready to finally face what I'd done. "I'm sorry I made it so hard on you when you came back. I'm sorry I was so awful to you and hard to get along with. You thought what we had was beautiful. I did, too, except while you were gone, I made it ugly." My voice cracked as I bit back the rest of my emotion. "You need to go, Dean. You need to stop fighting for what we had and realize the way you left it isn't the way it remained. I'm not the woman you left."

His eyes were red-rimmed as his tears fell silently. He sat for several minutes, just looking at me. I kept his gaze as long as I could until I cowered away, walking to my bedroom and shutting the door. Minutes later, I heard the front door shut and collapsed in a heap on my bed.

The next morning, I woke up to the smell of coffee. I hurriedly opened my door to find Dean sitting at the kitchen table, impeccably dressed, eating a bagel, and reading the paper.

"What the hell are you doing?" I demanded.

"Coffee is…Fuck" His words were harshly exhaled due to my clothing—or lack thereof. I realized I was standing in my camisole and underwear. Smoldering eyes prevented me from saying anything else as he appraised me from head to toe. I had forgotten to lock my door last night, and I damn sure wouldn't make the same mistake again.

"Dean— "

"I'm not giving up, Dallas." He leaned forward in an attempt to press his lips against mine. I pulled away before he could make contact.

"I don't trust you." There, take that.

"I want you back. I'll win you back. You want to be dated—I'll do it. You want to take things slow—I'll be patient. I thought about it last night and know I went about this all wrong. You were right. I expected too much."

"It's still too much. Too much water under the bridge," I argued, feeling less and less confident as he towered over me. "The truth is, I'm afraid of me when I'm with you. When I love you, I'm toxic. I don't want to go down that road again."

"I'll wait," he promised, gently brushing my hair away from my face. "I'll wait for you. I think I owe you that much."

"For what?"

"Until you realize we're still beautiful," he whispered, drawing me in. I breathed in his clean scent and damn near went to my knees. "I can't give you back the years I missed, but I can promise you, Dallas—we will have more."

"Stop!" The soothing tone of his voice would be my undoing. "Don't promise me anything. Don't even speak to me about a future. This is over, this whole sick twisted fucking mess I made. I want it over, and I want you gone right now."

"I'll wait," he said, not faltering in his determination. He straightened his tie, then walked out the door. Pouring a cup of coffee, I sat and stared at my closed front door. Dean was na?ve to think that time could fix us. He should have figured out already that time was what had ruined us.