Chapter Thirty-Three

Chapter Thirty-Three

The following evening, I walked onto our bedroom balcony to find Dax relaxing on a lounger with his tablet in hand and a sleeping cat curled up on his lap.

Sensing my presence, Gypsy woke and lifted her eyelids slightly, regarding me carefully through mere slits. With a brief flex of her claws, she then closed her eyes once more.

I arched a brow at him and folded my arms. “You know, for a guy who claims he’s certain she’s a complete psychopath, you sure don’t have much of a problem letting her snuggle into you. I’m not sure how I should interpret that.”

He parted his lips to respond, but then his brow puckered as he saw that I’d slipped on a jacket. “Going somewhere?”

“I’m heading out for a walk, I won’t be long.”

His frown deepened. “A walk?”

“I always go for a stroll around my neighborhood this time of year so I can check out everyone’s outdoor holiday decorations.” I hadn’t spent a Christmas at Oakengrove before, so I was particularly curious. But Dax’s answering expression was one of blank incomprehension. I almost snorted. Well, of course he’d see no appeal in this, the grump.

“Surely you’ve seen some while driving in and out of the village,” he said.

“Yeah, some.And only fleetingly, because I was concentrating on the road.”

He briefly glanced at the balcony’s amazing view. “It’s dark out.”

“That’s the best time to do it; you can’t properly appreciate all the lights otherwise, and they’re not always switched on until it goes dark anyway.”

His jaw tightened. “I don’t like the idea of you walking around alone at night.”

Aw, bless him. I’d totally be lying if I said his protectiveness didn’t make my belly all fluttery. “Oakengrove is very safe. You know that.” Especially now that Dax owned it—few people would have the gumption to behave in ways that would piss him off.

He exhaled a heavy breath and switched off his tablet. “I’ll come with you,” he said, sounding the epitome of put-out.

I blinked. “What?”

Carefully holding Gypsy, he stood. “I don’t want you going out alone at this hour.”

“It’s not that late,” I said, my arms slipping to my sides. “I’ll be fine.”

One brow slinked up. “Do you have a problem with me coming with you?” His tone said he didn’t give a monkey’s left tit if I did.

“Of course not.” I’d prefer to have the company.

He set Gypsy down on the lounger. “Then let’s go.”

Before long, he and I were strolling around the village, our arms brushing with each step. We passed residence after residence—villas, bungalows, townhouses, apartment buildings—as I admired the pretty lights and various props. Some homeowners had kept it simple, others had gone all out.

Passing my previous house, I didn’t knock to bid Alicia a quick hi—the absence of her car in the driveway told me she wasn’t home. In terms of outdoor decorations, she’d gone with a sparse and simple look.

One of her closest neighbors, however, had done the complete opposite. Taking it all in, I let out an appreciative whistle. “It’s like a damn winter wonderland. But in summer.”

“Hmm,” was all Dax said, unmoved.

I hid a smile and kept walking. As we reached a bungalow that had a huge Santa with reindeers on the roof, all lit up and flashing like crazy, I grinned. “Oh my God, I love them.”

Dax narrowed his eyes at me. “Don’t get any ideas.”

“But they would look awesome on our roof.”

“I don’t care.”

Neither did I, actually, but it was fun to tease him. “Oh, come on, get with the holiday spirit. Our roof is sorely lacking décor. They would be perfect for it.”

“Not happening, Addison.”

I huffed. “You’re such a Scrooge.”

“And you get far too hyper this time of year.”

Probably. “I fail to see how that’s a problem.” I gently bumped his arm with my shoulder. “You must have gotten excited for Christmas once upon a time.”

“Sure. But then I grew up.”

“Does this mean you don’t believe in Santa? That’s not good. If you don’t believe, he won’t come.”

The dry look Dax tossed my way almost made me cackle.

We continued meandering around the village, eventually reaching the strip of bars, restaurants, and cafés. All were packed to the brim, which was the usual case, since it wasn’t only residents who came to Oakengrove to eat and socialize.

Dax’s phone started to chime, and we both came to a halt as he fished it out of his pocket. He looked down at the screen and then cut his gaze to me. “I’ll just be a second. Wait here.” He walked away to take the call.

I figured his conversationalist was probably Rafael or someone else who Dax did not-so-legal business with. As he’d once cautioned me, Dax didn’t share anything related to that side of his life, refusing to allow it to filter down to mine.

It would have annoyed me if I thought it was a matter of trust; that he didn’t feel certain I wouldn’t leak any of what he shared with me. But that wasn’t the case at all. He simply liked to keep that sort of business separate from everything else. I could—

Laughs sounded as a bunch of guys poured out of the bar in front of which I stood. As my eyes paused on one of them, I stiffened, feeling like I’d been punched in the solar plexus. So many memories surfaced, making my chest cramp and my belly churn like stale milk.

Catching sight of me, the tall, dark-skinned male froze just the same. We stared at each other for a few seconds, saying nothing. I thought he might simply walk away without a word, but then a nostalgic smile tugged at his mouth and he took a step toward me.

“Addie,” he said with a chuckle as he swept me into a huge bear hug—hence his nickname, “Bear.”

A little numb, I weakly hugged him back, mentally scrambling to get it together.

Pulling back, he studied me, a glint of pain in the depths of his eyes. “Jesus, it’s good to see you. I was just thinking about you the other day. I haven’t seen you since—” He cut off, his smile flickering out like a sparkler gone dud.

“The funeral,” I finished in a low voice.

“The funeral.” He cleared his throat and took a small step back as he gave me a quick onceover. “You look good.”

“Thanks, so do you.” Rocking back and forth on my heels, I flapped a hand his way. “How are things going with you?”

“Great. Couldn’t be better.”

“Do you live here in Oakengrove?”

“No, we just wanted to hit one of the bars here,” he told me as he gestured at his companions, who stood at the curb waiting for him.

“Oh, right.”

Rubbing at the back of his neck, he cleared his throat. “Listen, the shit I said at the funeral? I was out of line, I shouldn’t have—”

“It’s okay.”

“No, it ain’t,” he told me, his eyes sober. “I’m sorry, Addie. So fucking sorry.”

I gave him a faint smile. “Apology accepted. I’m sorry for what I said, too. How—” I stopped talking when his gaze drifted to something behind me. I didn’t wonder what had snatched his attention. I could hear footfalls approaching; knew the rhythm of that stride.

A splayed hand settled on my back as Dax sidled up to me, his body language both protective and possessive.

Noticing his blank expression, I said, “This is—”

“Bear,” finished the guy in front of me, holding out his hand. “And you’re Dax Mercier.”

Unsurprised that he recognized Dax, I watched as they shook hands.

“I’m an old friend of Addie’s.” Bear paused, his nose wrinkling. “Not that kind of old friend—I just realized how that must have sounded. She was my best friend’s girl back when we hung out.”

Dax imperceptibly tensed—I wouldn’t have noticed if he hadn’t been standing so close that I felt his muscles bunch slightly. “I take it you knew each other in college, then,” he guessed.

Bear nodded. “We did.” He looked at me. “I heard about you two and … I just wanted to say that Lake would be happy for you.” He gave me a wan smile.

I would like to think he was right. I would like to believe that Lake would be pleased I’d found all that I’d found in Dax. Though, in the beginning, Lake would for sure have poked my forehead hard and called me all kinds of stupid for marrying someone to honor a damn pact.

One of the guys standing at the curb called out Bear’s name and signaled for him to make his way over.

He gave his friend a quick nod and then slid his gaze back to me and Dax. “Sorry, gotta go. It was nice to meet you, Dax. Take care, Addie, yeah?”

I forced my lips to curve. “I will.” As he jogged away, I let out a shaky breath and then looked up at Dax. “Shall we head back?”

His gaze pinned me with a probing stare. “Yeah. We can go back.”

As one, we turned and began retracing our footsteps.

“Are you all right?” he asked.

I stuffed my hands in my pockets. “Seeing him just … it took me off-guard. But yeah, I’m okay.” Clearing my throat, I faked a smile. “It’s crazy that he doesn’t look as if he’s aged a day. Some of us get all the luck.”

Dax hummed, long and low. “So he was a friend of Lake’s?”

I nodded and sucked my bottom lip into my mouth. “They were very close. Super tight. You hear of best friends being opposites, but they were pretty much the same person. It was almost freaky.”

Another quiet hum, this one pensive. “You felt awkward around Bear just now. Why?”

Grimacing, I scratched at the back of my head. “We, uh, we had a somewhat ugly dispute the last time we were around each other.” I sensed more than saw Dax’s shoulders stiffen.

“Which was when?”

I swallowed. “Lake’s funeral.”

“Why the dispute?”

I swiped my tongue over my lower lip. “I didn’t wear black. I know you’re supposed to, but Lake had asked me before he died to ‘skip boring, gloomy black’ and instead attend the funeral in the dress I’d worn the night we first met. So I’d agreed. But Bear didn’t know that Lake had asked that of me.”

“He thought you were being disrespectful,” Dax guessed.

I dipped my chin. “He was pissed. Flew off the handle. Refused to believe my explanation, even though Lake’s brother backed me up. Bear just wouldn’t hear me and …”

“And, what?”

“He accused me of going out clubbing the night before; of doing the walk of shame straight from some stranger’s house to the funeral.” It had felt like a stinging slap to the face. “I don’t think he truly believed that, I think he just needed to be able to yell at somebody.”

“That’s not an excuse,” said Dax, a rumble of anger in his voice.

“No, it isn’t. But I was no better. I unfairly called him out for not visiting Lake near the end—I knew it wasn’t that Bear didn’t care, it was that he just found it too hard. But he’d hurt me by saying what he said, and I wanted to hurt him back. Basically, both of us were feeling angry over Lake’s death and we ended up arguing over something that wasn’t really anything.”

I’d felt like a sack of shit afterwards, and I’d tried calling him a few days later to apologize. He hadn’t taken or returned my calls, though. But … “He apologized for it just now. I apologized for what I said, too.”

Silence fell between us, but Dax broke it when he said, “You don’t talk about him much. Lake, I mean.”

“You don’t talk about Gracie much.” Seeing the skin around his eyes tighten, I felt my chest twinge. “Maybe we should make an exception for this one night.”

He looked away, his jaw clenching. I inwardly winced. I shouldn’t have said anything. Should have just kept—

“You first. Tell me about Lake.”

His unexpected acquiescence made me blink. Recovering fast, I tugged at my hair. “He was the life and soul of everyone’s party. His personality was electric. He was always smiling and laughing and joking, but he took shit seriously. Took his studies and his commitments seriously. Even when he found out about the brain tumor, even when they only gave him mere months to live, he just kept on living it large. Until he couldn’t.”

“The tumor was inoperable?”

“Yup.” An ache took residence in my chest.I could think of Lake without hurting anymore, but remembering those days of watching the cancer eat at him, taking him from this world a piece at a time … It was impossible not to get choked up.

“He was more worried about everybody else; worried what it was doing to us to see him gradually fade,” I went on, a slight croak in my voice. “So he did his best to push us all away—friends, family, everyone—but we refused to budge.”

I’d understood his wish to be remembered as he was before the cancer hit him, but I’d also seen his fear and heartache. No way would I have left him alone at a time like that, even if I had felt inclined to walk away.

“I’ve never had to see someone deteriorate that way, but I’d imagine it would be a living nightmare,” Dax mused.

“It was.” I rubbed at my arm. “But I didn’t really feel the impact of it while he was alive. I’d refused to let the whole thing be about me; I’d shoved aside what I’d felt and focused on him.”

“So when he was gone, it all hit you hard.”

I nodded. “My friends and family got me through it.” I drew in a long breath through my nose. “How did you meet Gracie?”

A muscle jumped in his cheek. “She was always in my periphery, because we had quite a few mutual friends. We had our first real conversation at a party. I initially wasn’t interested in anything more than a fling. But that changed the more I got to know her. Still, I fucked up with her.”

I felt my brow furrow. “How?”

“I took things slow, because that’s what I do,” he replied, a self-depreciating note in his tone. “She was so sure of me that she saw no need to wait. She pushed for us to move in together after only a few months. I said no.”

“Personally, I think most people would be hesitant to move in with someone that soon.”

“But I dragged my heels on it. Two weeks. We’d lived together for only two weeks when she died, all because I’d been so set on us taking shit slow and giving it time.”

Not realizing their time together was running out, I thought. “I wouldn’t say that means you fucked up—”

“But I did. Like you, there were things she wanted from life. But because I was stowing things for ‘down the road,’ she missed out. I didn’t know that road would be a short one, or I’d have done things differently.” He sighed. “I wasn’t even concerned about her op. I thought she’d be fine.”

“I don’t think anyone would expect an appendectomy to result in a nightmare. You hear that every operation has its risks. Doctors always warn you of it, so it can make you nervous when someone you care for goes under the knife, but you don’t really think there’ll be fatal complications.”

His gaze went unfocused. “I don’t think I’ve ever in my life been more shocked by anything than I was by her father’s call, telling me she hadn’t pulled through the surgery,” he said, his voice dead. “Her mother was wailing in the background, utterly destroyed.”

My heart hurt for him. I balled up my hands in my pockets, wishing I could console him, not knowing how; not knowing if he’d even allow it or if he’d instead pull away and then our conversation would be over. “Life is so unfair sometimes, isn’t it?”

“Yeah.” He paused. “I don’t visit her grave, you know. Haven’t been there since her funeral. I don’t like remembering her the way she was in that casket.” He stared at me, apparently expecting to be branded cold or disrespectful.

I gave him an empty smile. “I don’t go to Lake’s grave either.”

Dax’s brow briefly creased in surprise. “You don’t?”

I shook my head. “Some people no doubt judge me for it. And look, I understand why there are those who find comfort in visiting graves; why they believe and feel it’s the ‘right’ thing to do—it’s certainly not the wrong thing to do. But I also feel that it doesn’t help everybody. It wouldn’t help me. It’d be a one-sided visit—Lake isn’t there. What made him who he is, his soul or spirit or whatever you want to call it, is gone.”

Dax nodded in understanding.

“You know, Lake actually told me not to go—said I could have a mental conversation with him anywhere; that there was no need to do that in front of his grave. ‘I won’t be there, Addie,’ he said to me. ‘All that’ll be left is the spacesuit that my soul needed in order to walk and breathe on this Earth, and that fucking thing has let me down—don’t pay it a tribute.’”

Dax reached out and linked his fingers with mine, making my pulse skip. “Makes sense to me.” He gave my hand a quick squeeze, and he held onto it the entire walk home.