“For him?” I ask.
When his eyes open and they’re filled with tears, I tense, feeling that familiar urge to bolt.
I’m not used to playing this role in our relationship, in any relationship, really. I’m always the person with the problems, the screwed-up one.
But I don’t run. I hold Dylan in my arms and rub his head gently until he stills.
“I’m sorry.” He sits up straight. “This is awkward.”
“No, it’s not.”
“I never wanted to deal with certain personal issues,” he says. “I thought that if I could just keep throwing the football and never get off the field, I wouldn’t have to.” He looks away from me and out the window. “I guess I even thought I could hide it from you.”
I feel the irony of what he’s saying as the words are coming out of his mouth.
“I know,” he says as if he’s reading my mind. “It’s incredibly crazy. You spent all that time in Arizona, not wanting me to know about your past and your pain, and I was avoiding telling you about my family. Because the thing is, I had a great childhood. For the most part, I was a really happy kid. My dad and I just…never got along. He always preferred to be with Matt. No matter what I did, he chose him. And that was probably the beginning, now that I think about it.”
“The beginning of what?”
“Of me not trusting anyone. I thought it only happened once I became a public figure, but it actually started long before that.”
I tilt my head as I search his troubled gaze. “And here I thought I was the only one of us who didn’t trust.”
He puts his hand on my thigh. “I told you about my issues with letting people in once I got drafted.”
“You did. But that’s not the same thing. That’s just you being careful.”
“It’s more than careful,” he says. “I started to lose faith in the goodness of people. And that’s a scary place to be. But realizing it may have all started when I was a kid, that’s even more disturbing.”
I take his hands in mine and look down at them. They’re tanned even though it’s winter. The veins are clearly defined with some freckles, probably from all that time playing football underneath the hot sun. His fingers are strong and callused. I stroke them with my own, and then I look up at him. “You have honest hands.”
“How do you know?” He looks down at them intertwined with mine.
“Because I sculpt. I looked at people’s hands constantly in different seminars or workshops I attended. I didn’t mean to, of course,” I add hastily, realizing I sound like I’m some sort of a voyeur.
Dylan’s eyes crinkle at the corners.
“But when I was looking at people’s work, they’d point at different things, and I noticed their hands as much as I noticed what they’d made with them.” I pause. “Yours are so strong, but they’re tired. They’re a little angry from all the heat put on them, all that pressure, but they’re also confident and sure of themselves. And happy.”
Dylan brings my hands up to his mouth and kisses them.
We don’t say it out loud, but neither of us wants the day to end, and driving back to Malibu would imply that sleep is imminent. After tonight, we only have one more night together, and then it’s over. So we hang out at Dylan’s apartment and stall.
At nearly one a.m., Dylan looks at his watch. “It’s too late for the pool.”
“What pool?”
“This building has an enclosed heated pool on the rooftop. But it closes at midnight.”
I nod, swallowing down my disappointment.
“Unless I can pull a favor…” He’s already reaching for the phone.
We ride the elevator to the rooftop with the night bellhop. He unlocks the doors for us, and we step out into the open air.
“Just give a call when you’re ready to come back down,” the bellhop says with a smile and a wave as the elevator doors close behind him.
I don’t know that I ever want to come down. Not with the way I’m feeling right now. I smile at Dylan as we walk to the glass doors that lead to the enclosed swimming pool.
It’s cool and windy on the roof, but once we step inside the pool room, all I feel is warm, humid air.
Dylan’s already got his shirt off, and he’s reaching for mine. I keep my bra and underwear on, and then I put one foot and then the other into the water. I take a seat carefully on the tiled steps and feel the cool water on my legs. Dylan drops his pants and then dives into the pool immediately, right into the deep end. No bathing suit or boxers. He swims to the shallow end to coax me into the water with him.
“I don’t know.” I stay where I am.
Dylan reaches behind me and unhooks my bra. “You’ve got too much on, babe.”
I float into the water and swim up to him. He picks me up, and I wrap my legs around his waist.
“Are you sure nobody can see us?”
“Positive,” he whispers back. “There’s not a soul up here. And no cameras. We’re safe to stay all night if we want.”
“Then we’d look like prunes,” I say to him.
“I’m not sure we’d care,” he says as he slips my underwear off my hips.
I watch my panties start to float down to the bottom of the pool and try to grab them. I miss.
“I’ll get them later.” Dylan puts his lips on mine.
His mouth goes to my breast, and I hold onto him for dear life. I’m not sure I’ll remember about my clothes later. I’ll probably be too happy to care.
We drive out to Malibu in the early hours of the morning. The freeway is nearly empty, and the sun still hasn’t risen, but it’s about to. I love Los Angeles when it’s quiet like this. The lights never stop shining, but when there’s less noise, I can almost hear myself in the city, and it’s very peaceful.
Malibu is a lot quieter than downtown, even at night. When we pull into Dylan’s driveway, and I open the car door, I can hear the birds just waking up.
“It’s nice out here,” I say.
“Yeah, it is,” he agrees.
We get into bed with Bessie and Balaster curled up at our feet.
“Sometimes I can’t believe I grew up in a small town in the middle of nowhere.” Dylan pulls the comforter over my shoulder. “I’ve become such a city guy.”
I can hear his heartbeat as I rest my head on his chest. “So who’s Uncle Irv?”
Dylan exhales. “My mom’s brother. He’s the oldest sibling in her family, about ten years older than her. She was the baby of the family. Like me.”
“And he’s sick?”
“He’s dying. I’ve seen him a few times since he was diagnosed, but not since we won. I wanted to bring back my MVP trophy to show him because I know he’ll have passed on before we get our championship rings.”
“You’re close to him?”
“I wouldn’t say close. He’s kind of a recluse. But I’ve known him my whole life, and he was always proud of me.”
I sit up straight. “I have an idea.” I don’t stop for breath, hoping that won’t allow me time to think about what I’m saying. “I think we should fly to your hometown together. Tomorrow, before we go back to Tucson.”
Dylan furrows his brow in thought. “I did get a text from Brayden earlier. He said everyone’s flying into town early so they’ll be there tonight. You could meet the rest of my cousins this way.”
“That sounds great. I can miss another day of work on the back end. I just think it’s important you see your uncle. I don’t think I could forgive myself if I were the reason you missed out on getting there in time.”
“Don’t say it like that,” Dylan says. “Me not seeing Uncle Irv has nothing to do with you. My parents won’t even be there. They’ll still be in L.A.”
“Well, I’d like to see the town you grew up in.”
As I say it, I realize that it’s true. I’m curious.
Dylan smiles. “I can’t promise any romantic nights like we just had. It’s pretty much a one-horse town.”
&nb
sp; I smile at him. “Are you afraid you can’t impress me enough in Montana? You think you need your fancy houses and planes to do that?”
Dylan blushes. “No, that’s not it.”
“Oh, really?” I grab his hand. “What is it then?”
“It’s nothing.” He looks away from me. “I don’t know. It’s not really me back in Wilcox. I’m different than all of that now.”
“But you came from there. You can learn a lot about a person when you see where they came from.”
“True.” He brushes a hair off my forehead. “I’ll arrange for the plane to be ready in the afternoon, and that way, we’ll have time to hang out here beforehand.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN
When I wake up the next morning, I’m the only one in the bed. Even Bessie and Balaster are nowhere to be seen. I panic as I get dressed because I forgot to buy perfume yesterday. And I chastise myself for forgetting.
“Good morning.” Dylan greets me with a kiss as I enter the kitchen. “Bessie and Balaster followed me out of bed. They’re enjoying the morning sun.”
He points at the two of them sunning themselves by the window.
“I have to go,” I say in response.
“What?” He flinches like I’m about to flee.
I know he’s reading my energy, and my energy says I want to bolt right about now. I woke up thinking about my mother and how I can get her the money. But I’m not about to leave the best thing that’s ever happened to me. I just need a moment alone to gather my thoughts.
I smile calmly and try to breathe. “I just have to go to the department store. I never went yesterday.”
“Can I come?” he asks me.
“No.” I kiss him. “Can I borrow your car, though? The least expensive one.”
Dylan gives me the keys to his Mercedes.
“No. Least expensive.”
“That is the least expensive.”
“Jesus, Dylan.” I groan. “What happened to a used sedan or a pick-up truck?”
He shrugs. “I don’t know. I drove those growing up but not in a while.”
“I think you should drive my car. We’ll go to my apartment later, and you can drive my ten-year-old, beat-up sedan. Just for kicks.”
He laughs. “All right. I’ll be here when you get back.”
I have the urge to ask him if I can have that in writing, but I restrain myself. I wave good-bye and leave for the department store.
I feel like an imposter as I drive through L.A. in Dylan’s Mercedes. I turn on the radio and focus on the road. I feel like all of Los Angeles must be staring at me. At the poor girl in the rich Mercedes.
I go to the store by my work, and I head straight for the cosmetics counter.
I find Ruby XO right away. But I stand there for an interminably long time staring at the bottle behind the locked glass. Maybe I should try a new scent, something that’s all me. Maybe it’s time to move on.
“Can I help you, dear?”
I look up into the eyes of a saleswoman. Her white hair pulled back into a bun frames a kind face. She smiles at me. “Do you know what you came here for?”
I shake my head and walk away.
I get about thirty feet away when I turn back.
“Yes,” I say to her. “I do know.”
When she hands me the bag and my receipt, I thank her and leave. As soon as I get outside the building, I reach into the bag and unwrap the bottle of Ruby XO and spray the scent on my wrists and neck.
A whiff of the smell hits my nose, and I choke. I cough my way to the car, feeling like I’ve been poisoned.
I grew up without a mother, so I don’t know why I keep feeling the need to pretend otherwise. I turn the key in the ignition and pull out of the parking lot.
By the time I pull up to Dylan’s driveway, I’m doing better than I was, but I’m still not quite myself.
He buzzes me onto his property, and I park the car. Then I school my expression before I walk into the house. I can hear the TV as I turn the corner into the living room.
“Hi.” I give a friendly wave and forced smile.
“Hey, babe.”
Dylan’s hanging out on the couch. I nearly melt when I see Bessie on his lap and Balaster curled up by his side, but I swallow the emotion down.
“You ready for our drive?” I take a seat next to him.
He turns off the TV and puts his arms around me. “You’re wearing that perfume again,” he says into my neck.
“I just bought a refill.”
I clench my jaw and pull out of his arms with the excuse of saying hello to the kitties.
When I finally raise my eyes to his again, he takes my chin in his hand.
“Jasalie, what’s going on?”
“Nothing.” I try to keep my voice light, but Dylan frowns.
“We’re not the best liars, are we?”
I break into a laugh.
“What’s going on?” he says again.
“I woke up thinking about my mother,” I tell him honestly. “About how to give her the money.”
“Do you want to run through your options?” he asks me. “I can help you figure out a plan.”
I kiss his cheek. “Later, yes. Right now? I’d rather just have some fun.”
We return Bessie and Balaster to my apartment, and this time, Rosita is lying in wait like a lioness. Her eyes nearly come out of her head when she sees Dylan, and she struggles to control herself throughout our brief visit.
She recognizes him from television and tells him this at least ten times. She also repeatedly mentions that she knows “nothing about sports” but she adores “a strong man.”
“Okay, great.” I give her a look to shut her up.
“Jasalie, you look happy.” She turns to Dylan. “Jasalie’s been so lonely. Her last boyfriend was the pits.”
“Rosita!” I glare at her.
Dylan stands between us, the grin on his face getting bigger.
“We’re leaving, and I won’t be home for two days,” I say as a way to end the conversation. “Thank you so much for taking care of the cats. I promise to take you out for an amazing dinner—just the two of us—when I get home.”
Rosita waves away my thanks. “I’ve got nothing else to do, and the kitties keep me company.”
Dylan tells her good-bye, and we go to leave, but before I can stop her, Rosita launches herself into his arms.
“You seem like such a nice man. Take good care of Jasalie. She comes off all tough, but she’s got a very tender heart underneath all that strength.”
Oh. My. God.
Dylan’s arms go around her in a hug. “I know she does. I will.”
“Rosita.” My face is on fire. “Let go of him.”
Another pat to Dylan’s cheek from Rosita, and we’re finally down the stairs and around the corner.
“Sorry about that,” I mutter as we reach the carport.
Dylan cups my cheek with his hand. “She cares about you. You don’t have to apologize.”
He’s right. I nod into his hand and kiss the palm quickly.
Then I gesture to my car. “Here she is. Ready to try her out? I’ll drive first.”
“Sure. I’ll park my car in your space?” Dylan says.
I can’t keep myself from laughing. “Yeah, that’s the safest thing to do. I’m laughing because this won’t cause too much talk in my complex; ‘Jasalie’s car has mysteriously upgraded to a Mercedes.’”
Dylan’s expression changes for a second, but then he ducks into his car so fast I can’t ask him about it. I go about moving my car out of the carport. Then, he puts his in, and as he climbs into the passenger seat of my car, I say to him, “What were you just thinking?”
“Nothing.”
“What?”
“You’ll freak out, and I don’t want you to. It was just a fleeting thought.”
I keep the car in park. “What is it?”
“Just hypothetically speaking, go with me on this, okay?” he says. “Th
ink of it like a fantasy football game.”
“Okay.” I put the car into drive and pull into the alley.
“In my fantasy, I wish we could live together, Jasalie. At the house in Malibu. It could be ours.”
I freeze and hit the brakes.
Dylan pauses, not speaking, like he’s waiting for me to freak out.
And I do. Sort of.
I want to freak out. I expect to.
But…
Part of me loves the idea of what Dylan’s suggesting too much to completely turn him down.
“I couldn’t afford one hundredth of the monthly mortgage,” I finally say in a weak attempt to present an argument. “Even in fantasy terms.”
“I paid for the house in cash,” he says. “Nobody’s paying a mortgage.”
Shit.
“Cash? You paid for that house in cash?” I keep calm as I take a right out of the alley and head toward the ocean.
“Yes.”
“Wow. You must have a very big salary.”
“You really never looked me up on the web, did you?” His voice is amused.
“Of course not. I didn’t want to learn about you on paper.”
“Well, you’re one of the few.” He puts his hand on my thigh and squeezes. “Which I appreciate. But yes, I signed a new contract two years ago, and it’s substantial.”
“Like eight figures substantial?”
“Try nine.”
Nine figures—
“Dylan, I can’t even wrap my head around that kind of money.”
“You will once you get your own business going.”
I glance over at him. “Right.”
“Your sculptures are worth a lot, and I’m not joking. Trust me on this, Jasalie—I’m an expert at picking out talent.”
“Dylan, that’s sweet. The thing is we’re not matched to live together.”
“What are we matched to do?” he asks me.
“To be in a fantasy land. A hotel, for example.”
“So we can’t live together outside of a hotel.” He says it like a flatline.
“I don’t know.” I sigh. “Hypothetically speaking of course, I’ve just always paid my own way is all. It would feel like too much.”
Dylan (Wild Men) Page 23