Damn Wright: The Wrights

by Jordan, Skye

Dylan was skilled at sizing people up quickly. Parnell was arrogant and privileged. And the way he stepped up beside Emma and slid his arm around her shoulders told Dylan the man viewed her as a possession. She was beautiful, intelligent, successful. The perfect trophy wife for a young surgeon.

  “Dylan Wright,” Dylan introduced himself and offered his hand.

  Parnell shook it, then purposefully returned his arm to Emma’s shoulders. Parnell knew. Emma might have not told him about Dylan, but the guy knew there was something between him and Emma. Maybe Parnell just had a sixth sense. Or maybe Dylan put off some kind of vibe. Whatever it was, Emma saw it too. Her nervous gaze jumped between them.

  “I don’t recognize the name,” Parnell said, “but, man, it’s crazy. I swear I know you from somewhere.”

  Emma tried again. “He’s—”

  “Her husband,” he finished meeting Emma’s gaze directly. “I’m her husband.”

  Her jaw dropped. Fire leapt in her eyes. “That’s not—”

  “What?” Parnell laughed the word, but frowned down at Emma. “What’s going on?”

  When Emma didn’t jump in to clarify, Dylan’s suspicion was confirmed—Parnell didn’t even know she’d been married.

  “Emma and I still have a few things to talk about,” Dylan said, “but I’ll give you two a minute.”

  Dylan turned and walked across the street. He felt the twin daggers Emma threw at his back, but he didn’t give a shit. He hadn’t sent the love of his life away only to have her marry some superficial fuck. Dylan wouldn’t be replaced by a man so completely wrong for Emma.

  He felt ridiculous climbing into the piece-of-shit truck when Parnell had rolled up in a Lexus. Not to mention the guy’s looks. Parnell could have come straight from the pages of GQ, with perfect facial symmetry, straight white teeth, bright blue eyes, sandy-blond hair, and a gym-honed body.

  Dylan, on the other hand, had been pulled apart and sewn back together several times. Numerous surgeries and skin grafts had left scars on eighty percent of his body. That accident had torn him apart in more ways than he could count. The only reason he’d made it to network news was because his face had been mostly spared.

  He cracked the window and leaned a little to the right where he could see them in his side mirror. Now all he could do was wait and trust in the bond he and Emma had once shared.

  5

  “The news.”

  Liam’s epiphany drew Emma’s gaze back to her fiancé. He stepped in front of Emma, blocking her view of Dylan’s truck. Not that she minded. Her glare hadn’t drawn blood anyway.

  But she did mind Liam turning that condescending confrontational tone on her. Until now, she’d never seen him use it outside the hospital. And she could admit, even if it was just to herself, that he could be a real ass to nurses and lower-level residents when things weren’t going his way.

  But now, his accusatory tone and expression was directed at her. Which was absolutely unacceptable. Yet, she did bear some responsibility here for not telling Liam about Dylan sooner, so she let Liam slide. A little.

  “He’s that reporter,” Liam said, his expression a mix of shock and disgust, as if a reporter not only didn’t merit discussion, but sure as hell shouldn’t be complicating Liam’s life. “The guy you always watch on the news. What in the hell was he talking about? Your husband?”

  Every muscle in her body cranked tight. Liam’s behavior was embarrassing enough without having Dylan as a witness. Luckily, his truck was parked the opposite direction.

  “He’s my ex-husband.”

  Liam’s mouth dropped open, and his face crumpled into a look of pure disbelief.

  “For a very short time,” Emma added.

  “Jesus Christ.” Liam’s voice rose as he lifted his hands into the air, then let them drop to his sides. “You’ve been married?”

  “Just six months.” God, she hated this need to justify herself. But she’d been the one to hold back this information. If their situations were reversed, she wouldn’t be thrilled either. But she liked to think she wouldn’t act like a bitch. “It was a long time ago.”

  “Why didn’t you tell me?”

  “Because it was another lifetime. Long before I met you.”

  Liam clasped his hands on his head and walked in a slow circle. Emma darted a look at the truck. Dylan had his phone to his ear. She could only pray he wasn’t listening.

  “I didn’t see the point—” she started.

  “You didn’t see the point of telling me you’d been married before? I can’t believe this. You’re obsessed with him.”

  Jesus Christ. “That’s ridiculous.”

  “I can’t get within ten feet of the remote when he’s on the fucking screen.” Liam swung an arm toward the truck. Emma felt heat rise to her cheeks. “Now I know why. I guess he’s also the reason you’ve been dragging your feet with me.”

  “That’s not true.”

  “You won’t move in with me. You won’t make any plans for the wedding.”

  Liam’s voice rose to a level she was sure had to reach Dylan’s ears. She shouldn’t care. She shouldn’t give a damn. She should be doing more to soothe Liam’s fears. Yet she found herself irritated at his two-year-old behavior. He was throwing a goddamned tantrum in the middle of the street, in front of her ex-husband over nothing. Okay, no, not nothing. Dylan had never been and would never be nothing to Emma. And that was clearly a problem for Liam.

  “You won’t even meet my goddamned parents, who came into town especially to meet you.”

  “Don’t do this, Liam. Please. Can we go inside and talk about this?” She was surprised at the weary tone of her voice. Even she didn’t think she sounded like she cared about his feelings.

  “No. I want answers now.”

  She bit the inside of her lip to hold on to her patience. “You’re making a much bigger deal out of this than it is. I haven’t seen or spoken to him in eight years.”

  “Yet here he is.” Liam gestured to Dylan again, almost like he was trying to get his attention. “Why?”

  Ah, shit. This was going to get worse before it got better.

  She closed her eyes and pinched the bridge of her nose. “He said he’s visiting family.”

  “Then what were you two talking about?”

  “Okay.” She put her hands up. “Hear me out.”

  Liam set his feet and crossed his arms. And the look on his face… Irritated, put-out, superior. Maybe even disgusted? She knew that look. She’d seen him level it on younger surgeons. Especially younger female surgeons. Why hadn’t she ever noticed that before?

  “We were discussing Aunt Shelly’s house because”—her stomach clenched—“he and I are both on the title. I didn’t even remember until Aunt Shelly died and Mom and I were going through her financial papers.”

  “You’ve had six months to tell me about this? While we’ve been engaged? Yet you said nothing?”

  Time to redirect this conversation. Though, in Emma’s gut, she doubted there was any direction she could take this discussion that would turn out well. But she had to try. “Look, I realize this situation is my fault. I should have told you I had been married before, and I should have told you about the house as soon as I realized he was on the title. But, honestly, I thought I could do it all through the lawyers and not have to see or talk to him at all. I’m actually glad I did talk to him, because he’s proposed an idea that has real merit.”

  Liam planted his hands at his hips. “Oh, I can’t wait to hear this.”

  The sarcasm in his tone made Emma’s teeth clench. “He’s offered to renovate it. We’ll get twice the money from it than we would if we sold it as is.”

  “And how does he propose you do that when you can barely afford groceries?”

  “He says he has the time to work on it, and he’ll put up the money for the renovation. If you look at this as a business deal, it’s a good one. The more we get out of the house, the more loans I can repay, and I know my debt makes you
crazy. Wouldn’t it be nice to start our marriage debt-free?”

  Liam’s jaw slid sideways. “That would be nice.” An air of challenge edged Liam’s voice, and Emma’s gut tensed for what would come next. “But if I agree to this, I want a wedding date. Right now. No more stalling.”

  Emma’s breath caught. Her stomach tightened. “We’re both starting new jobs soon—”

  Liam took a deliberate step toward her and lowered his head to look her in the eye. “Right. Now.”

  She narrowed her eyes. “I made a mistake. That doesn’t give you the right to use that tone of voice with me.”

  “And you come meet my parents now.”

  Emma didn’t answer. All the circuits in her brain were connecting at once, flooding her with epiphany after epiphany.

  “Those are my terms,” Liam said. “I won’t say a fucking word about you working on that house with the ex-husband I didn’t even know about if you set a date for our wedding and meet my parents.”

  “Terms?” Emma’s internal walls folded in on her. How had she let this happen? She’d spent eighteen months with this man. She’d agreed to marry him. Yet she hadn’t let herself see this dark side. One she only recognized in retrospect. “This isn’t a contract, and we’re not drawing up terms. This is a relationship, and if you can’t accept the imperfections inherent in all relationships, then we shouldn’t be getting married.”

  He laughed. One sharp, cynical laugh. “You’ve never been mine, have you? You’ve never been all-in. Not even when you said you’d marry me. Not even when I put that ring on your finger.” His voice urged her to tell him what he wanted to hear. “This is your chance to prove me wrong.”

  Disillusionment pushed aside her anger. “I shouldn’t have to prove anything to you.”

  “I guess that’s all I need to know.” Liam turned and stalked to the driver’s door of his SUV. He swung the door wide, then looked at Emma again. “I waited a fucking year and a half for you to be ready. But you were never going to be ready. You knew it, and you wasted my time.”

  “Wow.” She shook her head. “It’s nice to know you thought being with me was a waste of time.”

  He slammed the door, revved the engine, and peeled away from the curb with a screech. Emma was, once again, ashamed of his childish behavior.

  She crossed one arm over her middle and pressed her other hand to her forehead. “Fuck my life.”

  Only now did she realize this had been inevitable. As if she had blinders removed, she saw the full scope of how poorly matched they were. She’d been blinded by his good looks, the ease of his life with rich parents, the way he’d breezed through medical school. She was disgusted at the way he’d developed the God complex, a common affliction for surgeons. Disgusted it had taken her so long to see it.

  A car door closed, jolting Emma back to the present. She dropped her hand, looked up, and found Dylan crossing the street.

  Holy. Fuck. She’d forgotten he was waiting. She realized he’d seen, and probably heard, everything.

  Anger rose to the surface. So much anger. At Liam, at Dylan, at herself. “You asshole. That was my story to tell, at the right time. You had no right to take that away from me. No right to slap Liam in the face with it.”

  Dylan stood too close, one hand pressed to the hood of her car. “You deserve better than a guy who would walk away from you that easily.”

  “You mean the way you did?”

  “There wasn’t one goddamned thing easy about turning you away. Besides, I’m not that guy anymore. I know how badly I fucked up. I’d be happy to scream it from the rooftops if that makes you feel better. And I’m going to make it up to you.”

  Emma was swamped with so much anger and hurt, her brain wasn’t working. “You promised me forever and then you abandoned me. You can’t make that kind of shit up to a person.”

  She stalked around him toward the driver’s side of her car, fury twisting inside her. Dylan moved with her and stood in front of the door so she couldn’t open it.

  “What is his deal with money? He’s obviously swimming in it. Why is he driving a new Lexus when your Honda looks like it could die any second? Why is he giving you a twenty-five-thousand-dollar ring when you can barely afford groceries?”

  Dammit. He’d just confirmed her fear—he’d heard every word of her argument with Liam. She leaned in. “That’s not his responsibility. I take care of myself.”

  “If you want to take care of yourself, why get married at all? You don’t even love him.”

  She stepped closer, her voice rising. “You have no idea what you’re talking about.”

  “There wasn’t an ounce of passion in that argument. It was a fucking negotiation.”

  She took the last step, closing the distance. “Don’t you dare stand here and try to tell me how I feel about anyone. I’m not nineteen. And you don’t know who I am anymore.”

  “I know you, Emma. I know you inside and out, like it or not.” His voice was maddeningly level. “If you loved him, you’d have tears in your eyes the way you did last night when you saw me. If you loved him, you would have moved in with him, planned your wedding, met his parents, the way you did with me. And if he loved you, he would have pitched in with Shelly’s house. You’d have that thing sold and your loans paid down by now.”

  Fuck her to hell and back, he was right. And that blew the top off her rage.

  “Just admit it,” he said, his voice imploring. “You still want me.”

  His audacity shocked her. “The hell I do.”

  “You wouldn’t be this angry if you didn’t still have feelings for me.”

  “I’m angry because you’re an ass. It has nothing to do with my feelings.”

  “Really.”

  “Really.”

  “Then this shouldn’t affect you.”

  He reached out and clasped his hand around the back of her neck. The action made her realize just how close they were standing. Then his lips were pressed against hers.

  She made a sound of surprise, planted her hands against his chest, but then froze. Time expanded. Past and present blurred. Distant fantasies drifted into the moment. His long, dark lashes dipped, and his lips gently suckled hers.

  A fist gripped Emma’s heart, pumping joy and fear into the same small space. The move was so familiar—Dylan kissing her to shut her up. To end an argument. To take advantage of the passion in the moment and turn it into a bonding force instead of a combative one.

  And just like that, they were in that little Hanover apartment again. Deeply in love. Best friends. Each half of the most amazing love story she’d ever known, ever imagined.

  Love broke open in her chest. A deep, complete, all-consuming love. The raw purity of it destroyed her walls and wiped out her limits, clearing her mind of everything but the intense, sacred, blissful bond between them.

  It was still there, living deep in her cells, and flaring to life like a backdraft offered oxygen.

  Dylan pulled back, just a whisper of space between their lips, tilted his head and kissed her again. Softer. Longer.

  He was right—she still wanted him, and she was exhausted from fighting against it all these years. Exhausted from struggling to move on, dating other men, promising to marry Liam.

  She couldn’t keep up the resistance anymore, and in the moment, she didn’t want to either. She gave up the fight and leaned into the kiss. Curled her fingers into the front of his shirt.

  Dylan hummed, soft and deep. He slid the hand at her neck into her hair and pulled her bottom lip between his. Her mind emptied and tension slid from her body. A purr vibrated in her throat, a sound she hadn’t made in years. With her brain on standby, she opened to him. Just a taste. She just needed one little taste.

  Dylan wrapped his free arm around her waist and pulled her up against him. She was distracted by the body beneath his clothes. Hard. Strong. He dipped his tongue into her mouth, and her body caught fire. Her breath stalled in her lungs. He still tasted like pure, unadult
erated Dylan. The love of her life.

  A car passed on the street, breaking the trance, and Emma was slammed back to reality, to her shitty apartment, her ailing car, her broken engagement. But worst of all, she and Dylan were over. They’d been over for eight excruciating years.

  Emma broke the kiss and pushed off his chest. Dizzy, she closed her eyes and stepped back, one hand using the roof of her car to steady her, the other pressed against her lips. Whether to hold on to the kiss or wipe it away, she didn’t know. “That,” she breathed, “was a mistake.”

  “No.” Dylan stepped in and wrapped his arm at her waist, pulling her close again. “That was destiny. You still love me, Em. I know you do.”

  “I don’t.” Self-preservation kicked in. She couldn’t do this. Not again. She had a life, a career, a future, all without him, which was the way it should be. She pulled out of his grip and dropped her hand, but her lips still tingled. “No, I don’t.”

  “Then why’d you kiss me back?”

  “I didn’t.” Emma straightened and met his gaze. She might have tears stinging her eyes, but the idea of surrendering to Dylan after all the pain he’d caused her was a nonstarter. “Your brain is fried from standing so close to all those fucking bombs. Now get out of the way.”

  Dylan’s gaze intensified, but he stepped back, giving her access to her car.

  She dropped into the driver’s seat and reached for the door handle.

  Dylan put a hand on top of the door to keep her from closing it. “Renovate this house with me, Emma. Then you’ll be completely free to make whatever decisions you want.”

  She answered by jerking the door from his grasp and slamming it.

  6

  Emma took the twenty-minute drive to her parents’ house replaying her interaction with Liam and then Dylan, even though it had happened three days earlier.

  The whole thing felt like a circus act in her head. Distorting truth and juggling lies. Her heart split between the giddiness at the top of the Ferris wheel and the plummet of a roller coaster.

  But Liam wasn’t the man stealing her sleep. That was all Dylan. Emma couldn’t stop thinking about the feel of his lips on hers. The taste of his tongue. The strength of his body and how it still fit her perfectly. He was taller than she remembered. Had more muscle than he did when he was younger.