Only Him (One and Only Book 2)

by Melanie Harlow

  “Your brother said he’s been trying to reach you too. Did you change your number or something?”

  “No. Just been busy.” Unable to sit still, I walked around the side of the house and began to pace up and down the driveway. I could hear the shower running through the open bathroom window.

  “Doing what?”

  “Working.”

  “Oh, really? Where?”

  My headache intensified. “At the tattoo shop, Mom. Same place I’ve been for the past few years.”

  “Oh. When you said working, I thought you meant you’d gotten a real job. But what can you expect when you drop out of college?”

  I pressed my lips together. In my mother’s mind, tattoos were for “lowlifes and inmates” and “people who don’t know any better,” and tattoo artist was not a real profession because I didn’t have to wear a suit and tie or even a uniform to work.

  But those were not arguments I wanted to have again.

  “Listen, Mom. I’ve got some news.”

  “What kind of news?”

  This was the part I was dreading. I was pretty sure my mother had majored in overreacting at college (with a double minor in snobbery and playing the victim), and I could see her freaking out about this and then throwing a massive fit that I hadn’t said anything to her yet, but my brother already knew. I had to tell her something, though.

  “I’m going to Boston for a consultation with a neurosurgeon Finn knows.”

  Silence. “A consultation with a neurosurgeon? Why?”

  “Because I’ve been having some headaches.”

  “What kind of headaches? Migraines?”

  “Kind of, but medication hasn’t helped. And I had some tests done, which indicated there might be something else wrong.”

  “Like what? Why do I feel like you’re not giving me the whole story here, Dallas? Why do I feel like I’m the last to know what’s really going on?”

  “Look, I’ll know more after I talk to the doctor in Boston, okay?”

  “I don’t like this. I don’t like this at all. How could you just drop this on me right in the middle of a Saturday? I’m supposed to have lunch with a friend today, and now all I’ll do is fret about this!”

  I bit my tongue and took a deep breath. “My appointment is on Tuesday. I’ll let you know how it goes.”

  “And how long has Finn known about this?”

  “A couple weeks.”

  “And you’re just telling me now?”

  “Like I said, I’ve been busy, and I really don’t want anyone to worry. Everything is going to be fine.”

  “Something about this isn’t right, Dallas. I want to talk to Finn and find out what’s really going on.”

  Because of course, Finn would know more about my own head than I would. But I didn’t argue, because I wanted to end this conversation and call my brother before she did. “I’ll talk to you soon, Mom.”

  She was still talking when I ended the call. I hit Finn’s name in my recents, glad when he picked up right away.

  “Dallas?”

  “Yeah, it’s me.”

  “How’s the trip going? Are you okay?”

  “I’m fine. I decided to fly, and I stopped in Detroit to see a friend. Listen, I talked to Mom.”

  “Did you tell her?”

  “Sort of.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “I mean I sort of told her the truth and sort of didn’t. I told her about the headaches and the tests, and I told her that I was coming to Boston to meet with a surgeon you know.”

  “You didn’t tell her about the tumor?”

  “No.”

  “Shit, Dallas, now she’s calling me.”

  “I figured that would happen. Don’t tell her anything else.”

  “What am I supposed to say?”

  “Say that it’s my fucking business, not yours.”

  Finn exhaled loudly. “Have you given any more thought to treatment?”

  “I haven’t decided anything yet.”

  “I was thinking, if Dr. Acharya agrees to do the surgery, you could stay with us a few weeks.”

  “I haven’t decided on the surgery yet, Finn. And I don’t want you to tell Mom about it because then she’ll start pressuring me, too.”

  “Because she’ll want to save your life, like I’m trying to do!” Finn exploded. “This doesn’t have to be a death sentence, Dallas. I don’t understand you at all.”

  “What is so hard to understand about wanting to control what happens to my fucking body?”

  “Do you want to suffer, is that it? Are you still trying to prove how badass you are? Or do you think you deserve this somehow?”

  “Fuck you, Finn,” I said, louder than I should have. Some guy was doing yard work next door and glanced over his shoulder at me. But my brother’s words were hitting a nerve.

  “I’m serious, Dallas. I’ve been sitting here trying to wrap my brain around this for weeks now. Wondering if you’re looking at this as one final ‘fuck you’ to everyone who cares about you and wants to help, or if beneath all that ink and attitude, you’re just scared and don’t want to show it.”

  “Fuck you, Finn!” I was yelling now, but I couldn’t control myself. “You don’t know anything about me or how I feel!”

  “Because you don’t talk to me. You treat me like it’s my fault I get along with Mom and Dad and you don’t. Like I’ve wronged you somehow by being good at things that mattered to them. You blame me for all the shit that went wrong for you growing up. Those were your choices, Dallas.”

  “You don’t get it. Do you know what it was like constantly living in your shadow? You weren’t even there and yet you were, being better than me at everything in every way. Better at school, better at music, better at impressing adults, better at making good choices. You had done everything so right that there was no room for mistakes. I didn’t stand a chance and I knew it, so what was the point of trying? And maybe that’s unfair to you, but that’s how I felt then and it’s a hard thing to get over.”

  “Don’t you think you could be exaggerating things a little bit?”

  “Exaggerating! Christ, Finn. Do you know how many times I was asked why I couldn’t be more like you? Do you know what it feels like to be told again and again what a disappointment you are? Do you know how it feels to be told your best wasn’t good enough?”

  “No,” he admitted. “Did they really say that to you?”

  I laughed. “Are you kidding me? I remember in ninth grade, I worked my ass off and got a B on the math final. Dad said, ‘B’s are okay, if that’s all you can do, but you need A’s in math if you want to get into any decent college.’”

  “Maybe he thought that would motivate you to try harder.”

  “Are you even listening to me? I just said I worked my ass off for that stupid fucking B. For nothing.” I stopped pacing and lowered my voice—this was useless. “But forget it, Finn. I apologize, okay? I apologize that I blamed you for my shit. I apologize for not being a bigger person. I apologize that I’m not acting properly in my current situation. I have no doubt you’d be much better at having a brain tumor than I am. I never do anything right.”

  “Dallas, come on.”

  “I’m staying in Detroit another night or two. I’ll be there in time for the appointment with the surgeon on Tuesday.” I hung up on him before he could get another word in.

  Continuing to pace back and forth next to the house, I fought the urge to throw my phone on the cement and watch it shatter. I felt like destroying something, I was so fucking furious. Why did I let Finn get to me like that? It was so maddening that my family could still rile me up after all these years. I thought about what Evan had said, that I was laid-back about every other thing in life, but my family had the power to drive me insane. It was because they knew exactly how to push my buttons, and they dredged up shitty memories of being not good enough. Just talking to them reminded me I’d been loved less. That love itself was conditional. Was it any
wonder I’d distanced myself from them?

  I imagined Finn telling my mother the truth and them having a conversation about how fucked up I was. How stupid and selfish. How hard I was making this for them.

  Do you want to suffer, is that it?

  So what if I did? Was it his business, or anyone’s? Maybe in some ways Finn was right, and I was looking at this as one last chance to say fuck you. To ignore their advice and refuse their help. To be who I was without apology and throw it in their faces. This is me, this is my choice, deal with it. God, it had to be driving Finn fucking crazy that I wasn’t falling in line to do exactly what he said. But damn if I was going to let him be the hero in my story. I had the power to decide what to do, and I was going to keep it.

  Suddenly I noticed that the water wasn’t running in the bathroom anymore. Shit. I’d been loud. Had she heard me yelling? Had I said anything about the tumor? Or the surgery? What would I do if she asked me about it?

  Why couldn’t I do anything right?

  I slumped back against the brick wall. One thing hadn’t changed—she deserved way better than me. Someone who wasn’t damaged. Someone who wasn’t a liar. Someone worthy of her love. I wasn’t even sure someone good enough for her existed, but it sure as fuck wasn’t me.

  My phone vibrated in my hand, and I looked at it. A message from Finn.

  I’m sorry. I’m really sorry.

  And then another.

  Somehow when we talk, what I want to say comes out all wrong. Bree says I can be insensitive without even trying.

  I’d always liked my brother’s wife.

  Anyway, I wanted you to know I will not betray your confidence with Mom. And when you get here, I’d really like it if we could sit down and talk. I promise to listen.

  I frowned at the screen. Did he really want to talk—or listen? Or was this just a ploy to get me to take his medical advice?

  Olympia and Lane can’t wait for you to arrive. Oly says you can sleep in her room and you can even have the top bunk.

  That brought a little smile. I was excited to see the kids, and sometimes it was the thought of them that made me think hard about treatment. It would be nice to see them grow up. But at what price?

  Sighing, I pushed myself off the wall and headed for the front door. I wouldn’t think about that now. Nor would I worry about mending my relationship with my brother.

  Today, the only person I cared about was Maren.

  Nine

  Maren

  I was so happy, I was tempted to sing in the shower. The only thing that prevented me from doing it was the thought that Dallas might hear me. I am good at many things, but singing is not one of them. Growing up, my sisters always wondered how someone with a gift for dance could be so totally tone deaf.

  But I did allow myself to hum “Take Me Out to the Ballgame” as I washed my hair. I knew I shouldn’t get too carried away where Dallas was concerned—he was only staying one more day, and it wasn’t as if he had mentioned any kind of commitment to seeing each other beyond that. But it was hard not to be hopeful.

  The other thing that had me in such a good mood was the long stretch of nightmare-free sleep. It was still a little troubling (not to mention embarrassing) that I’d had the nightmare while sleeping next to Dallas, since I’d thought that forgiveness and making amends would soothe my subconscious, but maybe I had to give it more time. Let the message really sink in deep.

  I was a bit concerned about what had happened in the hotel room this morning—for a second there, I’d thought Dallas was going to pass out. He’d seemed to recover quickly afterward, but I’d been relieved when he agreed to let me drive to my house. It was obvious he hadn’t liked it, and he’d been a bit silent and sullen during the ride, but he must have known it was the responsible decision. And his Man Ego would survive.

  I turned off the water, squeezed out my hair, and grabbed my towel. I had just stepped out of the shower when I heard Dallas’s voice coming through the screen. It sounded like he was angry. Yelling at someone. I frowned and moved closer to the window, wrapping my towel tightly around my chest.

  “Fuck you, Finn!” He yelled. “You don’t know anything about me or how I feel.”

  I covered my mouth with one hand. I couldn’t see him, but his voice was coming from over to the right, as if he had walked into the backyard. A moment later, he went on angrily.

  “Do you know what it was like constantly living in your shadow? You weren’t even there and yet you were, being better than me at everything in every way. Better at school, better at music, better at impressing adults, better at making good choices. You had done everything so right that there was no room for mistakes. I didn’t stand a chance, so what what the point of trying? And maybe that’s unfair to you, that’s how I felt then and it’s a hard thing to get over.”

  Tears came to my eyes. Poor Dallas. No matter how much time had gone by, no matter what he looked like on the outside, somewhere inside him was the boy he’d been, the one who had never been good enough in his parents’ eyes. He’d never talked about it much, but I had always suspected it hurt him more than he let on that they didn’t appear to take pride in him. That his brother had clearly been the favorite. That he felt he would never measure up. Hearing him admit it now broke my heart.

  “But forget it, Finn. I apologize, okay?” Then he lowered his voice, and a lawnmower came on next door, so it was too hard to hear what he said next. But he wandered past the window a few seconds later, and I heard him say, “I’m staying in Detroit another night or two. I’ll be there in time for the appointment with the surgeon on Tuesday.”

  Quickly, I backed away from the screen so he wouldn’t see me.

  Surgeon? Goose bumps spread over my skin. Why did Dallas have to see a surgeon? Was it the headaches? And why in Boston? Was it a friend or colleague of his brother’s?

  I was even more worried now. But I couldn’t ask him about it, because that would mean admitting I’d overheard him through the window. He clearly didn’t want me to know about it or else he’d have mentioned it already.

  After drying off, I hung up my towel and went into my bedroom to get dressed. While I tugged on denim shorts and slipped an embroidered blouse over my head, I wondered what had set off the argument between Dallas and his brother. I wished I could ask him about it, but if he knew that I’d heard him confess how he felt about growing up in Finn’s shadow, he’d be devastated. He’d always been so proud. But on the other hand, I wanted him to know he could confide in me. Trust me with his feelings. It must be terrible to hold all that hurt inside. What could I do to help him?

  I continued to think about it while I blow-dried my hair. When it was mostly dry, I put in a couple braids near the front and pinned them at the back, leaving the rest down. The only makeup I added was some mascara and lip balm, and rather than perfume, I rubbed a few drops of jasmine oil on my wrists and neck. It was while I was putting the cap back on the bottle that I had an idea about what I could do to help Dallas with both his physical and his emotional pain.

  I found him in my living room, sitting on the couch wearing a broody expression. “Hey,” I said, sitting down next to him.

  When he saw me, his face relaxed. “Hey. You smell good.” He reached for me, pulling me toward him so I was lying across his lap.

  I looped arms around his head and laughed as he buried his face in my neck. “Thanks. Hey, I have an idea.”

  “Mmm. Me too.” He pressed his lips to my throat and slid one hand up my rib cage, beneath my blouse. “I hope it’s the same one.”

  I giggled. “It’s not.”

  “Then I vote we do mine first.” He covered one breast with his hand and nibbled my earlobe. “You’ll like it, I promise. It starts by making you come with my tongue and moves on from there.”

  Between my legs, I felt a pleasant flutter, and nearly gave in to it. “That does sound nice, but first we’re going to do something for you.”

  “What?”

  “Cle
ar your chakras.”

  “I like my idea better.”

  “I know you do, and I promise we will get there, but first I want to do this for you.” I put my hand on his shoulders and pushed back gently, forcing him to look at me. “Please?”

  “Why? I’m not having any nightmares, unless I’m in one right now and you’re going to make me walk around with this hard-on all day.”

  “It’s not just for nightmares. It’s for other things too, and I think it could help you with your headaches.” And your family issues, I wanted to add. “We have a class on it at the studio, and everyone always says they feel better afterward.”

  “I already know what will make me feel better.”

  “Come on, you’ll like this. It involves massage.” I slid my palms down his chest and spoke seductively. “I’ll have my hands all over you. I’ll even sit on your lap.”

  “That’s only going to make me want my idea more. I can’t promise I’ll be able to control myself.”

  I smiled. “Just try. For me.”

  He sighed heavily. “I suppose I can’t say no to you since I showed up out of the blue and basically kidnapped you for the weekend.”

  “That’s right. You can’t.” I managed to sit up. “It’s going to feel good, I promise.”

  He stayed where he was while I got everything ready—closing the curtains to block out the light, pouring some rosewood oil into my diffuser dish, lighting the flame beneath it. “What’s a sound you like?” I asked him, scrolling through the choices on my Meditation Playlist.

  “You screaming my name.”

  I ignored that. “Waves? Thunderstorm? Ocean breeze? Rainforest? Birds chirping? Babbling brook?”

  Another heavy sigh. “Let’s go with thunderstorm. They always make me think of you.”

  A shiver moved through me, and our eyes met in the dim light. “Same.”

  I selected the track, put it on repeat, and set my phone aside. Then I went over to him and held out my hand. “Phone, please. I can’t have any interruptions.”

  He handed it over, and I made sure the ringer was off before setting it on the mantel. Then I straddled his legs, my knees on either side of his thighs. Since this was going to be a sort of cross between a spiritual and a sensual exercise, I was taking some huge liberties with the practice, but I didn’t really care. The idea was to get him to relax, feel good, let go of negative energy, and build trust.