He’s forgiven.
IT’S BEEN FOUR WEEKS since that night in her kitchen, the night I kissed Spencer. The night I held her beautiful face in my hands, searching for any sign of my existence in her eyes. The night I tasted the salt of her tears and felt her tremble against my body.
The night that I have constantly been reliving in my mind for the last month.
Because it’s also been four weeks since I’ve felt her warm, full lips. Her taste as it flooded my mouth and the softness of her tongue as it connected with mine. I was weak that night. Greed for her overruled my original intentions. I was supposed to inform her of the details of the investigation, to warn her of her involvement, then get the out of there faster than a bat out of hell. But goddamn, the hurt in her eyes as she cried, the fear in her voice as she spoke … All I could focus on was the fact that I fucking did that to her. That I’d caused her unnecessary anguish. And there was nothing I wanted to do more at that moment than to take it all away. Over the years, she’s convinced herself that I abandoned her when I was never really gone. And because of that, she needed to see me. To hear me.
As I spoke, I could feel my words chipping away at the walls she strategically placed in her own defense. With each new revelation, her anger lessened and her insecurity diminished. By the end, we were just Spencer and Dalton, standing alone in her kitchen as we allowed the presence of the other to heal past wounds. I held her for what seemed like hours after that, and she clung to me just as tightly, both of us refusing to let go for fear the other would disappear. I think she forgave me at that moment.
But forgetting…
Well, that will take a while.
I still see it in her eyes, the fear I will leave.
I still feel it in her heart, her refusal to believe me. To trust me again.
It will take time for the honesty of my words and the truth of my intentions to sink in her stubborn head. For her to realize I would never, ever leave her. Not fully.
I can’t force that trust, nor can I force her to feel secure with my presence.
That will take time.
And because I promised her that, I will not kiss her again, not until she finally believes in me. In us. That will be her move to make when she’s ready.
Four. Long. Weeks.
It’s 2:30 in the morning, and I find myself in her parking lot with my Rubicon pointed right at her bedroom window.
Guarding her.
Again.
I know Lawson’s men are casing the building, but I don’t fucking care. I’m bound by an intrinsic need that refuses to be satisfied unless I’m the one providing her security.
After a short meeting with Bates at the warehouse to update him on my progress with the expansion of Silas’s territory, and after another unsuccessful attempt to acquire information about Silas’s supplier, I crawled into my jeep and just drove. Spencer was at the forefront of my mind the entire time.
I don’t see her as much as I would like. I get an hour in at Krav Maga and maybe thirty minutes afterward while we spar. During class, knowing glances are traded, unnecessary touches are given, and there’s a lot of me staring at her gorgeous fucking mouth when in close proximity. That, it seems, cannot be helped.
But other than that, nothing about my routine has changed to an outside observer, with the exception of my nightly stakeouts outside Spencer’s apartment. Visits in which I know I’m not being followed because I tend to drive for hours before ending up right here. Although I’m parked a lot closer than usual since some fucker parked his Corolla in my favorite surveillance spot.
Four. Long. Weeks.
We decided that night not to tell Lawson. I think we’d both prefer to avoid that shit-storm while we can. And if the time comes, I’ll be the one to deal with any ramifications.
Just as I lean my seat back, getting comfortable for the next few hours, her bedroom light illuminates the darkness. I find comfort in the fact that she no longer has to sleep with the light on to get her through the night, and hope she’s made it past that difficult part of her life.
Her slim figure passes the window, the outline of her body causing my fingers to curl into themselves with the need to touch her. I scrub the palms of my hands against my thighs to curb the feeling and continue to eye her bedroom.
After a couple of seconds, her form fills the window just a row of blinds dips at the center. I scoot lower into my seat, then pull down on the bill of my cap and bend my neck to conceal my face. When I finally tilt my head to look back up at her room, the light is off.
Shifting in my seat, a relieved breath passes through my lips as I rise. Everything around me is silent as I remain hidden in darkness. Only my breaths are heard…
Until someone begins to pound on the window next to my head.
“FUCK!”
My heart hammers with the rush of adrenaline coursing through my veins. I feel like Mia Wallace post intracardiac injection in Pulp Fiction as she catapults off the bathroom floor.
I also feel like I’m about to pass out.
Turning my head to the side, I’m greeted with the tear-filled laughter of Spencer Locke as she stands outside my car door, holding her side as though she can’t breathe. My eyes perform a scan of her entire body, from the messy mound of blonde hair topping her head, to the tight pink tank top molded to her breasts. After landing on the tiniest shorts I’ve ever seen in my life (that barely perform their function in covering her ass), I quickly survey the parking lot, and confirm no one has been alerted to our presence. Through the window, I press my finger to my lips then signal for her to be quiet. This just makes her laugh harder, so I’m forced to take things into my own hands.
I lower my cap as far as I can, then swiftly press my door open. Her body stills with the sound and her eyes widen as my booted feet hit the cement. She turns away and cocks her leg to run, but she’s not fast enough. Before her barefoot hits the ground, I place my hands on her shoulders, twist her to face me, then crouch down and scoop her onto my shoulder into a fireman’s hold. She giggles as I carry her across the parking lot and damn if a smile doesn’t break across my face at her laughter. The sound transports me to a time when her beaming smile accompanied by the same laughter were the only things I had to look forward to.
They still are.
Once we’re at the front door, I lean to open it, then deposit her safely onto the carpet of her living room before closing the door behind me.
As I turn around, my attempt at a threatening glare is completely offset by the stubborn grin on my face. “I cannot believe you did that.”
Her smile is just as wide and her eyes are luminous. “I cannot believe you didn’t see me coming. What kinda cop lets someone sneak clear up to their car window?”
I belt out a laugh. “I was busy not looking.”
She smiles wider as she shakes her head. “You are so busted. Don’t you get tired of sitting out there every night?”
Having just felt her body against mine, my hands want to linger on her body, so I force them into my pockets for that very reason. “You knew? Why didn’t you say anything?”
She shrugs. “I don’t know. I kind of like having you out there. I sleep better knowing you’re watching over me.” Her voice is small with her admission.
I smile with the knowledge that I make her feel safe and break away to look around the living room. “Where’s Cassie?”
Spencer huffs. “Where do you think? She’s with Grady again. I should punch your face for introducing them because I pretty much don’t have a roommate anymore.”
My face draws tight and my brows pinch together. “What? No one has been here at night?” She shakes her head. “Are you using the alarm?”
Her laughter echoes through the air as she walks past me, heading directly to the white keypad on the wall and pressing in the code before turning around. “Of course.”
I begin to release a breath, only to have it lodge in my throat as she takes my hand when passing by me. Our fin
gers intertwine naturally as though my hand is merely an extension of hers. She says nothing, just continues tugging me behind her as she heads down the hall to her bedroom. Once inside, she releases her hold to flip on the light and close the door, then gestures to her desk chair. “Might as well come inside. I mean, I can’t be much safer than that, right?”
She cocks her brow and as her hand finds her hip, I give in and finally allow my eyes a brief perusal of her body. Her legs look fucking phenomenal, their length accentuated by the shorts—or lack thereof—and her arms are tanned and toned, most likely from repeated punches thrown in class. I scan her quickly as to not be noticed, but when my eyes land on hers, her bottom lip is drawn between her teeth and a hint of a smile tugs at the corners of her lips.
“Busted. Again.”
I shrug innocently and she laughs as I take a seat as directed. Far away from the bed. She plops down on the edge, twisting her body to face me and drawing her legs upward. She smiles back at me as she sets her chin on her knees, and suddenly the distance isn’t near enough. A primal urge to push her back and settle my body into hers rushes my mind. Memories of her blonde hair fanned out underneath her bare shoulders quickly follow, along with the innocence in her big blue eyes, filled with the trust she once placed so freely in me.
Trust that I will earn back or die trying.
I clear my thoughts and recline back in the chair, stretching my legs and crossing them at the ankle. Spencer folds her fingers over her toes, focusing on her hands.
“I’ve missed you. I just wanted to tell you that.” Her eyes slide upward to meet mine. “I miss us.”
My mouth curves downward as I offer her a saddened smile. “I know, Spence. Me too.”
“Do you think that, maybe, you could sleep with me tonight?” The bridge of her nose creases as a pink blush stains the tops of her cheeks. She looks fucking adorable. “I mean, by me. Not like with me, with me.”
Laughter rushes through my nose and I couldn’t hide my smile even if I tried. Lifting my arm, I snag my cap off my head and toss it to the side. She smiles huge, turns her body, and crawls to the head of her bed.
I grind down on my molars and fight the urge to moan out loud as the cheeks of her ass peek out from underneath the shorts. Dragging a tense hand through my hair, I breathe in deeply to clear my thoughts, but continue to watch because, as usual, I can’t tear my eyes away from her. I shake my head, then bend at the waist to untie my boots and remove them as she shuffles herself under her sheets.
I rise and gesture to the lights. “You don’t sleep with the light on anymore.”
She dips her head. “Yeah. Years ago, I used to lie in bed, thinking of you in the dark. I guess I just got used to it.” The sadness in her eyes carries across the room and sears my heart like a branding iron. She smiles in spite of it as she pats the open space next to her. “So consider me cured of that unfortunate habit.”
After shutting off the light, I make my way to the side of her bed, choosing for my own sanity to remain fully clothed as I press my knee onto the mattress. She scoots her body back until she’s flush against the wall, then lifts the bedding as I slide in next to her. As soon as my back hits the sheets, she lowers the comforter. Automatically, my arm extends to the side just as her head finds my chest. Love and Happiness wafts around me as I curl her snug into my body, not willing to put even an inch of distance between us. Her arm drapes across my chest and we both release a contented sigh.
Our laughter echoes in the still of the darkness, the only light in the room being that of the moon as it shines brightly through the slits in the blinds. As my eyes adjust, I watch as she sets her chin on my chest and grins back up at me.
“This is nice.”
I reach forward and graze her cheek with the pad of my thumb. “It is.”
“Your hair is so long. Do you hate it?”
I shake my head. “Nah, I’m used to it. The color and length and everything. The beard though, that will be the first thing to go.”
“It’s not so bad.” Spencer lifts her hand to tug it gently. “I vote the contacts should be the first to go. I’m glad you don’t have them in tonight. I can see you more clearly without them in.”
“They’re annoying. I hate wearing them.”
Her eyes roam my face. “Yet you wear them anyway. For me.”
I run my index finger down the bridge of her nose. “There’s nothing I wouldn’t do for you.”
Spencer gifts me another small smile, then releases her hold on my beard to thread her fingers through my hair, making a slow pass downward with her hand. As soon as she’s done, she rests her palm against the side of my face, and her eyes begin to glisten in the moonlight. “I’m sorry, Dalton. I was so angry at you, so furious for years, that I actually grew comforted by the feeling. I felt as though I found strength in it, and when I finally thought I let you go, you magically reappeared out of nowhere and threw my life completely off kilter. I was terrified to believe what you were telling me, knowing that if I did and if I were to lose you again … God, Dalton—it would break me. There would be no coming back from that.”
Her head moves back and forth, still resting on my chest. “I just, I never said thank you. For all that you’ve done over the past five years. For setting your life aside to make sure that I’m safe. For putting it on hold while I went on with my own or tried to anyway.” She shrugs lightly. “I should have said that a long time ago.”
I mirror her gesture, sweeping my hand through the side of her hair. “Spencer, I would have been angry too. I would never fault you for that.” The corner of my mouth lifts. “And you’re welcome. But I didn’t put my life on hold for you. You are my life. I’ve never known anything more certain, more sound, than that. It was that knowledge that kept me sane over these past five years.”
I snag a tear before it falls from her eyes, then run my knuckles down the soft skin of her cheek. Our gazes remain locked for seconds, maybe even minutes, before she presses up and places a tender kiss on my mouth. Her hair falls forward and as she tucks a section behind her ear, a warm tear falls on my face and disappears in my beard. I make no attempt to deepen the kiss. As much as I want to lace my fingers into her hair and feel her moan in my mouth, I know this is her way of finally accepting my words. Sealing her faith and belief in me by way of her lips.
Hours later, she finally finds the courage to say it.
After having a near panic attack when I wake, I find her standing on the front porch of her apartment. The sight of the rising sun reflecting on her face is one of such serenity that I forgo my lecture and silently step behind her. Leaning my arms on the rail beside her body, I cover her hands with mine, thumbing lightly over the onyx bracelet that still lines her wrist after all this time. As her scent fills the air around me, I nestle my nose in the crook of her neck and inhale deeply, then raise my eyes to take in the sight in front of us.
Corals and bright pinks paint the skyline as we watch in silence. After the sun hovers in its entirety over the horizon, I whisper, “I thought sunsets were our thing.”
She maintains her forward stare, but replies softly, “They are. But this sunrise right here, I needed to see.”
Her nose skims my cheek as she turns to face me. I lean away, still mesmerized by her beauty in the early morning light as my eyes roam her face. They’re are as bright as the sun lighting her features.
“This sunrise is special. It’s the dawn of our new day.”
She leans in, places her lips on the corner of my mouth, then resumes facing forward. Wrapping my arms around her shoulders, I pull her close and inhale deeply.
Four. Long. Weeks.
And worth every fucking second.
“CASS! I’M GOING TO MOM’S! Want to go with me?” I shout as I slip on my black Chucks. As always, the hems of my jeans hit the floor, and I grin goofily at them. They serve as a reminder of being eighteen years old and the whirlwind experience of falling in love for the first time. Feeling much like I
do now, years later, as I fall in love for a second time with the same person.
We’re not the same kids we once were. We’ve changed.
He’s grown.
I’ve grown.
But I think that as we begin this journey together, finally on the same path, we will adjust to the changes and evolution as we remold, becoming a stronger version of what once was.
And because of that, I have made the decision to officially retire the FUDGE box today. I no longer need to keep that part of my life hidden, nor am I afraid of the pain the contents inside once represented.
Not anymore.
Just as I rise from my seat on my bed, Cassie appears in my doorway, holding a spoonful of peanut butter. Pointing it at me, she inquires, “Across the street from my parent’s house?” When I nod, both of her dark eyebrows press together and she draws, “Oh hellllllll no. Mom found my diary from eighth grade when she was cleaning out my bedroom. I won’t be going back over there…ever.”
She brings the spoon to her mouth, then settles her hip against my door frame. “Do you think you can sneak in my window and grab it? There were some really inventive positions that I practiced with Pete Johnson noted in there.” She waggles her eyebrows and I roll my eyes but smile none-the-less.
“Your parents put an alarm on that window the summer of our senior year, remember?”
Her face dips downward, sadness claiming her features. While I locked myself in my room, mourning the loss of Dalton, she went bat-shit crazy the summer after Rat died. The realization that kids weren’t immortal seemed to hit her pretty hard. Her parents’ last ditch attempt to control her behavior was to put a security system in their house, including her infamous window, and set the code without telling Cassie. It didn’t go over well, needless to say, which led to Cassie pretty much never coming home that summer. Looking back, I feel bad that I wasn’t there for her more during that time. But honestly, I was so far gone, there was no way I could have led her out of her darkness when I was lost in my own.
Under the Influence Page 22