by Stella Noir
Dylan keeps me company for a little while, but grows bored soon and gives me a peck, heading outside to toss a ball for the overly excited dogs.
My fingers slide over the leather bound volumes lovingly, inhaling the scent of paper and glue that holds together the binding. This is my idea of heaven.
“Looking for something special?” a deep voice interrupts my thoughts and I look around into the eyes of the strange man I saw the first time I’d come to the Rawlings’s house this summer. He’s been described as a distant relative, and we’ve politely exchanged hellos a few times, which was always strangely awkward.
“Just looking for a new read,” I smile uncomfortably. I don’t know why, but this man gives me the creeps. He’s really handsome, but in a devilish way that makes me think there’s more to him than meets the eye.
“Want some help with that?” he asks, tipping his glass back and setting it down on the coffee table in the middle of the room. And that’s another thing – I’m pretty sure I’ve never seen him without a glass of alcohol in his hand.
And I really don’t want his help.
I want to be left alone with my books, to peruse them in peace. Yet it doesn’t seem like he’ll take no for an answer, as he’s already heading closer to the shelves. I nod reluctantly, stepping aside so he can look at the titles himself.
His fingers find a volume and pull it out.
“This is a good one,” he says with a smile that somehow looks vicious and makes my skin erupt in goose bumps. Ignoring the strange feeling, I pick up the book he’s holding up for me and check the cover.
Rebecca by Daphne Maurier. One of my all-time favorites.
Excitedly, my eyes shoot up to meet his. “I love this one,” I say with a sincere smile, yet I’m only met with a smirk. Discouraged, I whisper my next few words. “I’ve read it countless times.”
“You have good taste.” His compliment surprises me and I smile genuinely, happy he thinks so. After all, he is a relative of Dylan’s, and I want him to think highly of me. Plus, I have no one to talk to about books – Dylan most definitely isn’t a bookish type.
“I never got your name?” I say, feeling more than a little awkward, and I regret my words when the man scrutinizes me with his eyes. “I’m sorry if that came out rude,” I rush to say. “I just … wanted to know, and no one told me, so-”
His hearty laugh interrupts me and I nervously giggle myself. “You’re adorable,” he says with a wide smile, stepping closer to me.
I fidget uncomfortably and he seems to sense my mood, as he turns his body away from me and towards the window. I feel better and thankful he’s not pushing me.
“I’m Frank Smith,” he says simply.
“And you’re a relative?” I ask softly, so curious but afraid of prodding him with my questions. “Whose side are you on, Mrs. Rawlings or Dylan’s father?”
He laughs quietly and I feel more than a little confused.
“They never told you about me?” he asks softly.
I shake my head, feeling even more weirded out by this whole conversation.
“I’m Dylan’s brother,” Frank says bitterly, and my jaw drops to the floor, but before I can comment, he continues. I can tell from his tone it pains him to admit this to me. “I’m his … stepbrother. On his father’s side. He had me ages ago, when he was much younger, about 17. He left my mother when she was pregnant, and only acknowledged me now. He invited me to stay for the summer, though I think he’s already regretting that decision …”
I try hard to follow with all of this information, my mind spinning. How could Dylan hide something like this from me? It’s a big secret, and I’m not sure why he felt like he couldn’t tell me.
“Am I interrupting something?”
I would recognize that bitter, slightly sarcastic tone anywhere.
I whip my head around to look at Dylan’s sister, Venetia. She’s so gorgeous; it intimidates me just to be in the same room as her. So tall and willowy, her hair that natural red color you can only dream of getting out of a bottle, her eyes piercing and green.
But Venetia has one of the most unpleasant personalities I’ve ever encountered, and we’ve never been close. I tried so hard to be her friend, but every single time, she pushed me away and made fun of me.
“Of course not,” I smile politely, my cheeks still feeling flushed after Frank’s confession. “We were just heading downstairs for lunch, weren’t we, Frank?”
I smile widely at him and the pain in his eyes seems to slowly fade away. He offers a smile back, but it looks like a wolf’s. There’s a hunger, a need in his eyes that scares me.
*
Lunch is strange.
Frank sits across from me and keeps shooting me looks, and I do the same, though I’m feeling extremely confused. I’m sat between Venetia and Dylan and they’re both acting like they always do – Dylan is loving and affectionate, while Venetia is sarcastic and rude.
The food is delicious, but I have some trouble getting the bites down my throat.
Finally, it’s over, and the adults head to the salon once again to discuss some neighborly scandal or other. Dylan and I excuse ourselves and go out to the their private dock.
We walk along the shore, holding hands, and I’m getting ready to ask him about Frank, though it feels like I have a huge lump in my throat.
“Dylan?” I interrupt him hesitantly right in the middle of a speech about some sport or other. I haven’t been really listening, so I couldn’t tell you more than that.
“Yes, babe?” he asks with a wide smile.
“I was wondering about your relative … Frank?” I ask softly, tentatively.
Dylan tenses slightly, but just shrugs. “What about him?” he asks, cheerful as always.
“I wasn’t sure how exactly he’s related to you?” I wonder out loud, and I look at him hard, trying to see if he’ll lie to me or tell me the truth.
“Not much to tell,” Dylan says, shrugging. His brows are furrowed. “He’s just some distant relative of Dad’s. I think he’s his cousin’s kid or something like that.”
I scrutinize my boyfriend, looking at every crevice of his face, looking for answers. And I realize this is truly what he believes – he has no idea what the truth really is.
Which means Frank confided in me, trusting me to keep his secret, which is why he kept shooting me all those glances. And Dylan has no idea … it’s up to me to spill or keep the secret.
The moment of truth is here.
“Babe?” Dylan asks me, looking worried. “Why do you ask?”
I gulp.
“It’s nothing,” I say, a fake smile plastered on my face. “I was just wondering.”
“Oh, sure,” Dylan says dismissively, placing a kiss on my forehead and launching into another tirade about his favorite sports team in England, the subject we just discussed already forgotten.
I keep the secret.
Chapter 11
After the incident with the puppy, I feel shocked and appalled at the way Matthew acted. When I go to bed that night, the puppy jumps in with me and Matt gets up, looking disgusted.
“I’m not sleeping in the same bed as … that,” he hisses, and I just shrug, snuggling the puppy closer as he stares at me like I’ve just stabbed him in the back.
He sighs dramatically, and then proceeds to gather his pillow. He spends the night on the love seat in our room and I can’t help but giggle into the puppy’s soft fur when I see his frown.
“I’ll call you Love,” I whisper in hear floppy ears. “Because I know he’ll grow to love you soon enough.”
I fall asleep with the puppy in my arms and Matt snoring on the couch, and I dream of Dylan for the first time in years.
*
The next morning, I wake up to an empty room. Confused, I walk out and down the stairs, where I’m greeted with the smell of bacon and pancakes.
I walk into the kitchen and see a scene I wouldn’t have pictured in my wildest dreams.
“Ahem,” I clear my throat, a wild smile on my face, and the two culprits turn around, one looking guiltier than the other. “Just what have I walked up on?” I ask teasingly.
Matt looks ashamed for a split second, but a smile appears on his face and the frown from last night vanishes. He wraps me up in his arms and the dog barks excitedly, and for one moment, I feel blissfully happy.
Too bad it won’t last long …
*
Matt leaves for work, and I’m left alone with the puppy, but today, the day doesn’t seem quite as gloomy, even though I don’t have a job anymore.
Love looks pretty bored, though, and after she has a little accident on the floor, I decide we need some supplies. I attach the leash Dylan brought the previous day to her collar – which I must replace, it’s such a dingy old thing – and decide to head out to buy a few things for her.
Getting Love into the car is a challenge, to say the least. She growls, barks and fights me any chance she gets, so I end up semi-strapping her in the front seat to keep an eye out on her.
I’m already dreading the journey ahead of us, but within moments, she’s fallen asleep, the game of tugging we’ve been playing apparently draining her of her strength.
I smile softly at her and close the door quietly so as not to disturb her.
“Having a good time with her?” asks someone, and I turn around to see Dylan in my driveway. I throw my arms around him, laughing happily. “She’s a treat!” I tell him happily, and continue to tell him how I found her and Matt this morning.
He laughs right along with me, and before I know it, I’ve already suggested he come to town with us. He agrees, and we end up driving to a town a few miles out of the city, because we don’t want to scare Love with the commotion of big crowds.
I look at Dylan in my mirror, sitting awkwardly in the backseat, and I can’t help but laugh out loud. “You look hilarious back there,” I inform him and he narrows his eyes at me, which makes me laugh even harder.
“The dog already has front seat privileges,” he complains, and I giggle, turning at the crossroads. “I thought I was your closest friend, not some canine!”
I blink, a little put out by what he’s said. Sure, he used to be my closest friend … but that was so many years ago, before everything happened. It will … it will probably never be the same.
I think Dylan senses the tension in the car, so he changes the topic quickly. I try to follow cheerfully, but the thought of our friendship keeps popping in my mind. Will it ever be the same?
But I love Matt now. And I always will.
With that final thought, I park the car in front of an enormous pet depot. We rouse Love from her slumber and bring her in, where she behaves perfectly. We buy so many things we have to drag around a shopping cart each, and it’s so much fun I never want to leave the stinky depot.
As all good things do, our shopping trip has to come to an end as well, and we pack everything up in the trunk of my Hummer.
“Shotgun!” Dylan says to Love, grinning from ear to ear, and my expression duplicates his. We strap the puppy in the backseat this time, and she’s alert and happy, none too fussed about the journey in the car, even though I thought she would be scared of driving.
“She’s loving it,” Dylan remarks after turning towards the backseat, where he claims the dog is grinning with happiness.
“This was so much fun,” I sigh contently, stopping at a red light. “I wish every day was like this.”
“Why shouldn’t it be?” Dylan asks, and I smile at his naivety.
“There’s the wedding to think of,” I remind him. Soon, every day will be filled with the preparations for the wedding, which is looming closer and closer. And I’m sure I’ll have an earful of the monster-in-law to deal with, too. “I won’t have much time. And I’ll be busy, and stressed.”
“I’ll help,” Dylan offers and I look at him questioningly. “I’ll take Love for walks, if you want. And anything else you can think of.”
I look at him, feeling something strange and heavy lying in the pit of my stomach. Why is he being so nice? What are his intentions? Why is he doing this?
“Err, Lola?” Dylan interrupts my head, and I come back to reality, where a dozen angry drivers and humping their thorns at me. I’ve almost missed the green light.
I drive forward and spend the rest of the drive home listening to Dylan talking about the puppy. He doesn’t mention his offer again.
We bring all of the stuff we’ve bought inside and spend a few hours arranging everything, setting up a doggy door and playing with Love’s new toys. When she collapses on her doggy day bed, looking completely exhausted, I walk Dylan to the door.
“Thank you so much,” I say, my smile brightening up my face. “Today was such a special day.”
“I’m glad,” he responds, flashing me his pearly whites. He always did have such a perfect smile … “Lola, you know my offer stands, right?” he adds hesitantly, just as he walks out of the door.
I blush.
“No pressure,” he adds, raising his hand in a goodbye as he walks out into the driveway. I don’t even know how he got here – there’s no car. He must’ve taken the bus, and it’s such a long walk …
“Dylan,” I yell after him, and he turns around, just a figure next to the gate.
I raise two thumbs up and even from the distance, I can see him grin and repeat the gesture.
So I guess that’s set, then.
I have a new, yet old friend …
Now the only question is this:
Do I tell Matt about him or keep Dylan a secret?
*
“Remember that TV show we used to watch in the summers?” Dylan laughs, and I bend over to pick one of Love’s squeaky toys, throwing it across the room as she rushes towards it. She’s grown so much in these short few weeks; she’s almost doubled in size.
“I have no idea what you’re talking about,” I giggle at Dylan’s words.
“Of course you do!” he continues, exasperated. “It was this TV show that made fun of soap operas. Remember, there was Meg and Ben … He had an evil twin …”
“Oh my god, and there was a curse, and something to do with a mummy?” I suddenly remember, the cheesiness of the memory bringing a smile to my face.
“That’s it!” Dylan pumps the air with his fist and I laugh at him, launching into a long discussion of the benefits and pitfalls of the TV show Sunset Beach.
“That show was hilarious,” I declare, setting two tall glasses of sweet tea on the kitchen counter.
“Too right,” Dylan agrees, flashing me a grin.
I look at him nostalgically, though I’ve become skilled in the memories I choose to associate with him. I’ll think of the long days on the beach, the summer sun warming my skin, the feel of seawater salty against my lips. I’ll think of us laughing, running around as children.
But I refuse to think of the bad, the sad, and the ugly. I erase them right out of my mind, putting an impossibly high wall between my thoughts and those memories. They should never be accessed again, I tell myself sternly.
Dylan and I spend so much time together, a day wouldn’t feel complete without his company. I’m a little ashamed, because I never mention it to Matt. I’ve said he came over a few times, and he thought nothing of it, so I’m not sure why I’m keeping it a secret.
Maybe it’s because he represents a completely different part of my life that I selfishly want for myself. It is true – Matt’s presence would have somewhat spoiled our talks, our time together.
I realize I’ve wandered somewhere else in my mind, so I sit down on a bar stool abruptly.
“Lost you again, didn’t I?” Dylan teases me, but there’s a hint of worry in his voice.
I nod with a shy smile.
“Thinking about the wedding again?” Dylan inquired, and I blush with the guilt of
it all.
The wedding is what I should have been thinking about. The day is only a month away, and even though Matt’s mother and wedding planner have it all taken care of, I know I’ll have to pay attention to it soon.
There’s arrangements to think of, and according to the number of panicked voicemails currently on my phone, I should get on with it sooner rather than later.
With a groan, my head slides in my hands and I whimper.
“Too much to handle?” Dylan asks worriedly. “You know I’ll help, I’ll do anything-”
“Dylan, you’ve done more than enough,” I admit, looking up at him. “You’ve been here every day, keeping me company. If I had been alone, I would’ve gone crazy. Even with this little fur ball running around.” I lift Love up and hold her in my arms. She’s still too little to jump up on her own.
“I’m here for you,” he says softly, and I look away from the dog, looking into his soulful eyes. And in there, I see more than I should, more than should be in them …
I see that he still cares.
I see that he wants to help.
And most of all, the most frightening of all – I see he still loves me.
The walls in my mind threaten to crumble. Yes indeed, they’ve almost been crumbled by his care since he’s been back in my life, but every single night, as I lay down with Matthew, I built them back up, nice and strong.
Now they’re shaking, threating to fall down and crush my future beneath them.
I get up abruptly and the puppy struggles against my lap, until Dylan rescues her. Ignoring them both, I rush away, needing fresh air more than anything else. I struggle to open the French door that lead to our backyard, managing to get them open.
With a gasp, I rush outside, falling on the grass and probably ruining my white dress.
I lie down, my head against the ground, and look up at the beautiful, cloudless sky.
It’s the one constant in my life, this sky. Things change and people leave, bad and good things happen to me, but the sky is ever present, ever calming.