by Jen Talty
Dylan took a sip of his drink and then choked. “We are good friends,” he said, giving Kinsley an odd look with an arched brow and a crinkled forehead. “How long will you be staying in Jupiter?” he asked, changing the subject.
Thankfully.
“I don’t know,” her mother let out a long sigh, once again glancing over her shoulder. “I’d like to see the parade, but after that I fear I will have to head back to New Jersey to take care of some things.”
“Well, I can make sure you have a ticket to the presentation. It won’t be near Kinsley, since she’s sitting with my family. But I can get you into the seated area if you like.”
“Oh, yes. That would be wonderful. Thank you so much,” her mother said, gushing.
“I see that gentleman over there is giving you some serious eyes,” Dylan said.
Oh, dear Lord. He was going to push her in that man’s direction. Hell, who was Kinsley kidding, her mother didn’t need a push. She was going to find another man. Whether it be silver eyes over there, or someone else. And Dylan was doing her a solid by giving her mother permission to walk away from the table.
But would she?
And did Kinsley really want her mother to move on to husband number seven?
Well, hell. Being married made her mother happy in a weird way, even if they never lasted.
“I guess my daughter didn’t tell you, but my husband and I are splitting, so I’m not interested in jumping into another relationship. That said, I should leave you two lovebirds alone.”
“Mom, I told you—”
“Good night darling. I love you.” Her mother kissed her forehead as she stood. “And I’d love those tickets, even though it won’t be near my daughter.”
“I’ll make sure you get them and if something changes in the family section, I’ll let Kinsley know.”
Her mother hugged Dylan as if she’d known him his entire life. She looked one last time at the man at the end of the bar before heading toward the doors that led to the lobby. The man soon followed.
“You don’t have to give her tickets.”
“It’s not a big deal,” Dylan said, sipping his drink.
“I didn’t know I was expected to sit with your family.”
He let out a long breath. “That wasn’t the best way to ask you, but it would mean a lot to me and my mom. And I didn’t mean to be rude with your mother, but I wasn’t sure if you wanted her sitting with you.”
“God, you’re so sweet,” she said, reaching over, resting her hand on his and kissing his cheek. “Thanks for coming and understanding that I love my mother, but sometimes need a break from her.”
“Hey, I’ve got the best mom in the world, and I love her more than anything, but there are times I just need to walk away, like tonight.”
“What do you mean? Did something happen?” Kinsley couldn’t imagine anything coming between Catherine and her boys.
“Do you want the truth?” he asked as the waitress placed a plate of food in front of him. He wasted no time digging in, dunking a French fry in a wad of ketchup and plopping it into his mouth.
“Should I be afraid of the truth?”
He nodded.
“Well, it can’t be worse than knowing that my mother is probably going to sleep with that man tonight.”
“My brothers and I once thought we’d love for our mother to have a man in her life, but then we all got weirded out about the idea of her having sex.”
“If my mother knew we had sex, she’d be giving you tips on how to please a woman.”
Dylan coughed, spitting out half his burger. “I don’t think I could handle that conversation.”
Kinsley stole a couple of fries, letting out a nervous laugh. “We got sidetracked. What happened with your mom?”
“I told her I was going to Ft. Bragg the day after the ceremony. I expected her to be upset that I wasn’t staying longer, but I didn’t expect her to give me a big old lecture about you and how I was an asshole when it came to women. She said some things I have never heard come out of her mouth, and she’s kind of right.”
“You’re not a jerk when it comes to me. We both have been honest and after you leave, she’ll see I’m not heartbroken over it.” She hoped he didn’t notice how she stumbled over the last few words. And it will be difficult for her not to be sad, but she wasn’t going to let anyone see it.
Now, who was stuffing their feelings?
“Not that I want you to feel bad or anything, but I really do like you. More than I should.” He wiped his face with his napkin and tossed it on the plate, leaning back in his chair. “If there were ever a woman I’d want to try having any kind of a relationship with, it would be you.”
Her heart pounded in her chest, smacking against her ribs, making it hard to breathe.
“But my way of life isn’t made for sharing. Last year, I was deployed all but two months and most of those days were spent either debriefing or preparing. I see my family only—”
“You don’t have to explain it to me,” she said as she took his hand. “I’d be lying if I told you I didn’t have some kind of feelings for you, but you’re leaving. I know that, and I’m still not interested in a long-term commitment. Not even with someone I like as much as I like you.”
He waved the waitress down, giving her his credit card. While he signed the check, she took a moment to collect her thoughts, hoping to slow her raging pulse.
There was only one thing she was afraid of, and that was ending up like her parents. Yet, if she never took a risk, she’d be like her dad. Or like Catherine. Alone. Perhaps happy, but alone.
Or she’d be like her mother. Never alone, always on a roller coaster, though, perhaps happy at times. The thing was, after spending this week with Dylan, she craved a partner in life.
And she wanted it to be Dylan.
“Come on, let’s go. I drove, because my ankle is killing me.” He rested his hand on the small of her back. They walked silently through the dark parking lot. Small lamppost lights lit the way down the path. The nearly full moon cast a white glow over them. “This might get me slapped, but are we going to spend the rest of my time here with each other, or are we going to part friends now?” He pulled open the Jeep door.
She paused, leaning against the truck, raising her hand to touch the side of his face, which was still slightly bruised, but his scar wasn’t as raised anymore. “I’m being selfish and reckless, but I’d like that very much.”
Chapter 12
“No! Stop!”
Kinsley jumped as Dylan tossed and turned. She rubbed the hair from her face, just as he yelled, “Please, don’t go!”
So much for sex taking care of his bad dreams. Not that it was a known or even a good treatment plan, but it did take his mind off things for a bit.
“Dylan,” she whispered, rubbing his arm gently. “Wake up.”
He bolted to a sitting position, and his arms thrashed about, pushing her to the side as she tumbled off the bed, her ass landing on the floor with a loud and painful thud.
“Fuck. Kinsley, are you okay?” He groaned as he leaned over, stretching his hand out in an offer to help.
She glanced up at him. His lips pursed tight, indicating pain. Perspiration beaded across his forehead. “Sit back and relax. I’ll get us some water.”
He nodded.
Pushing herself off the floor, she waited to rub her butt until after she made it to the kitchen. The floor rattled under her feet. She whipped around and gasped. “Jesus, Dylan. Don’t sneak up on me like that.”
“Sorry. But I want to make sure you weren’t hurt and to apologize for knocking you off the bed. I can’t say I’ve ever done that before.”
Patting his chest, she breezed past him and sat on the sofa. “It’s okay.”
“It’s almost six in the morning, shall I just make a pot of coffee?”
“Yes, please, and while you do, you can start telling me about your dream. Was it the same as the last time?” Horrible to bait
him like that, and she told herself that she was helping him by making sure he was honest.
Only that wasn’t the truth.
He shook his head, letting out a long breath. “It went back to me being in a separate room, listening to them torture my men. Same dream I had in the hospital.”
“You’re lying.” She could have gone easier on him, but then she’d be a shitty friend and that was one thing she prided herself on, her loyalty and honesty with her friends.
And Dylan was indeed a friend.
That was her story and she was sticking to it.
“Why would you say that?” He poured the water into the pot and flipped the switch. Leaning against the counter, he folded his arms in a defensive and closed position.
“Because you talked in your sleep.”
He scowled. “What did I say?”
“No. Stop. Please don’t go,” she repeated his words.
Rubbing his temples, he turned away. “I’ve made an appointment to see the psychiatrist on base. I know I need to discuss the things that are swirling around in my subconscious before I go back in the field. You showed me how important that is. Thank you.”
“Well, that sounded like a kiss-off,” she said with a little more snap in her words than she wanted him to hear. He didn’t need to know how much it hurt her feelings that he was closing himself off from her. Shutting himself down.
Basically, emotionally checking out, which is what they had agreed to in a weird way.
A week of sex.
And sex didn’t equal an emotional attachment.
Only she had that too.
“I don’t mean it to.” He scratched the back of his head, still turned away, holding a coffee mug in his other hand, as if that would make it percolate any faster. “But I don’t want to talk about it.”
“All right,” she ground out. She had no right to be mad.
“What are we doing?” He slammed the mug on the counter and turned. His eyes filled with the same anguish as the day she’d first met him. His jawline tight as if he were ready to explode.
“Excuse me?” She glared.
“You don’t want a relat—”
“We had this discussion last night. Why is it bothering you now?”
“Because you deserve better. You deserve someone to love you and take care of you. Someone you can love back” The lines on his forehead crinkled, and he let out a long breath. She knew him well enough to know he was grappling with emotions he didn’t want to deal with.
But she wasn’t sure what they were.
“I don’t need anyone to take care me, thank you very much. And I’m a grown woman capable of making my own decisions. It’s not like neither one of us hasn’t had a fling or a one-night stand before.”
“That is a true statement,” he mumbled as he hobbled back to the bedroom. He returned a few minutes later wearing his shirt and carrying his shoes. “I think it’s best if we part friends now.”
“Wow. Whatever was in that dream certainly spooked you. Was it about me?” Oh boy, did she know that was a passive-aggressive move on her part. One, fishing for information on how he might be feeling about her, and in the same breath, telling him she didn’t care.
Talk about being an asshole.
He laughed, but it was more of a sarcastic sound. “Mighty egotistical of you, Doc. But if you must know. I dreamt about the day my father died. I was standing at the front door, and he was leaving for work. I just didn’t want him to go as if I could stop him somehow.”
“Jesus.” She bolted from the sofa, racing across the room. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have—”
He held up his hand. “But you did, though that’s not the point.”
“What is then?” She held her breath, staring at him, waiting for an answer.
“We just can’t do this anymore. I need to focus on getting back in shape, and I’m sure you’ll easily find another man to have a fling with while helping him solve whatever—”
“Get the fuck out, now.” She pointed to the door. “And don’t come back.”
He nodded and left.
The second the door clicked shut, she let the tears fall. They weren’t just for her and her hurt feelings over the harsh words Dylan had said.
But for him because he was never going to allow any emotions to surface. He’d work though what happened in the field by shoving them so far down with all the other shitty things he’s had to deal with.
She glanced out the window. Dylan wasn’t anywhere to be seen.
If he could only open that big heart of his, he’d have everything he could ever imagine and damn it, she wanted him to imagine her.
Dylan lay on the sofa, the boot he normally wore tossed aside while he iced his ankle. At least now he could move it, but the fucker hurt like hell.
But not as much as his heart.
Lying, unfortunately, had come easy to him most of his life, but especially in his work with Delta Force, so telling Kinsley that dream wasn’t about her, and then making one up, well, easy as pie.
Dealing with the consequences of that lie, well, that was entirely something else.
Since then, he’d woken up three times to dreams about his men being tortured and dying. Their cries still echoed in his brain. But the dreams were fainter. And he was no longer killing his father, only his father did show up, as did his brothers, just standing off in the distance, as if they were waiting for him to come home. In the dream, he thought he’d heard his mother call that supper was ready.
Those dreams didn’t haunt him anymore. They disturbed him and made it difficult for him to fall asleep, but what had woken him up this morning was the vision of Kinsley running down the beach. Running from him. Leaving him behind in a dark tunnel of nothingness. What the hell did that mean?
He tossed a tennis ball in the air with one hand, catching it with the other. He had no idea how long he’d been doing it, but the sun had been up for at least an hour.
“Oh, hey there,” his mother said as she stepped into the kitchen. “I thought you stayed over at Kinsley’s last night.”
“I did, but you’re right, Mom, I’m an asshole and I did the right thing, but in a really bad way.”
“I see.” Her mother pulled a couple of diet sodas from the fridge before sitting down on the end of the sofa, putting his leg in her lap, handing him a can. “I take it that means you ended whatever was brewing between the two of you.”
“Nothing was brewing. Neither one of us has room in our lives for romance, and neither one of us wants it either.”
“Then why are you sitting here sulking?”
“I’m not.” He swigged his soda, letting the bubbles tickle his throat. “I’m icing my foot.”
“Whenever you were upset over something, you’d lay somewhere tossing a damn ball up and down. So, what’s going on?” His mother didn’t let things go easily. “How mean were you to Kinsley?”
“She gave as good as I did, so let’s just say we both weren’t playing nice in the sandbox.”
“Well, I can’t believe I’m going to say this, but if neither of you have any desire to try to make this work, then it’s best to end it now.”
“Wait a minute. You’re not going to push me about getting married and having kids and all that shit? You used to tell me you thought this neighbor was perfect for me. Hell, last night, you were telling me I needed to really examine my feelings when it came to Kinsley.”
His mother sipped her soda, staring across the living room. “I love you, Dylan, and I’ve tried to make sure you and your brothers had what you needed and always felt loved.” She wiped her cheek.
“Mom, why are you crying?”
“I’m so proud of you. You’re an amazing young man, but since the day your father died, you’ve never been able to love.”
“That’s not true. I love you. My brothers and their families. Hell, I’ve even learned how to hold a baby and not freak out.”
That made his mother chuckle.
; “That’s not what I mean. Logan loved Mia since high school. He didn’t know it, but I think because they always had some contact, his heart never broke, but he also never stopped loving her.”
“Not everyone wants to get married, and I’m in that category.”
“I’m not talking about marriage. I’m talking about the kind of love that can rip your heart out in a second. Nick and I both know what it’s like to lose a spouse. I loved…still love, your father so much that I can’t go to his grave without balling like a baby. He’s still the first thing I think of when I wake up and the last person I think of before I go to bed. I dream about him all the time, and I know he’s never coming back and I so worried that Nick would do what you have done when he lost Joanne.”
Carefully, Dylan sat up, securing the boot back over his damaged ankle and took his mother’s hands. “What are you talking about?”
“I remember it took all of Ramey’s might to get you off that hospital bed.”
“I don’t want to do this. Dad’s death affected all of us, and rehashing it like this isn’t going to change anything.” He swallowed. Hard. Hearing himself say those words made him realize how deep he’d pushed those feelings of pain and suffering. That he still did. That even with writing in the journal and talking through some things, he never really let himself feel anything other than responsibility.
And not the good kind. No, he took on the world, making everything his problem. His fault.
His mother blinked her eyes a few times, glaring through the tears. “You need to let me finish, okay?”
He nodded, rubbing his thumbs over the tops of her hands.
“You were crying so hard and hugging your father so tight. The nurse said you’d been like that for a good ten minutes by the time Ramey and I got there.”
“I tried to punch Ramey,” Dylan said softly.
“Ramey always knew how to avoid a fist,” his mother said with a slight smile. “Minutes later, you stopped crying. Your body stiffened. And it was like the light of hope in your eyes faded into the background. You told us all what Dad said and answered all our questions with not a single emotion. Your tone was flat, and I kept trying to find that light that my little Dylan always had.”