Only Him

by Melanie Harlow

  I forced myself to look him in the eye. “It took me a long time to get over what you did to me, Dallas.”

  He nodded, letting me speak.

  “My entire senior year, I was lonely and miserable. I kept waiting for you to get in touch and at least tell me you were okay, that we would be okay no matter what, just like you’d promised.” I shook my head, feeling my throat close up. “Was everything you said a lie?”

  “No,” he said seriously. “I never lied to you, Maren. I was an immature asshole, and I made stupid decisions, but I never said anything I didn’t mean.”

  You said you loved me, I almost shouted. You said you needed me. But I pulled myself together. What good would it do to throw that in his face at this point? Did I really want to hear him say he’d been just a kid who didn’t know what love was? Would that honestly make me feel better after all this time?

  “You promised to take me to the senior prom,” I said instead. “You know what I did that night?”

  “What?”

  “Nothing. I sat home, and not because no one asked. A few guys did.”

  His hands flexed at his sides. “Why didn’t you go?”

  “Because I knew I’d only spend the evening missing you. It wouldn’t have been fun for my date or me. But you know what?” I stood a little taller. Puffed up my chest. “I should thank you. I never made the mistake of trusting someone too easily again.”

  “Well … you’re welcome.” One side of his mouth hooked up in a sexy crooked grin that made me feel seventeen again.

  “Stop that. I’m still mad at you.”

  “You are?”

  “Yes.” I gave him my meanest stare.

  His grin widened. “Is that your evil eye? Fuck, that’s cute.”

  “My anger is cute?”

  “No. Yes. Wait, is that a trick question? You’re cute. Your anger is not. And I hate that I caused it. You were the last person on earth I ever wanted to hurt.”

  “You were the last person on earth I ever thought would hurt me.”

  He accepted that with a slow nod. “I’ll always be sorry for that. I deeply regret it.”

  His eyes held mine, and I felt in my heart he was being sincere. It would feel good to forgive him, wouldn’t it? The past belonged in the past; the present was what mattered. And in the present, I was not a lovesick seventeen-year-old girl pining after a guy who’d left her behind, and Dallas was no longer that irresponsible, impulsive seventeen-year-old boy. He was a grown man who wanted to apologize for his thoughtless actions so long ago. Most guys probably wouldn’t have bothered.

  Which made me wonder.

  “I’m curious,” I said, folding my arms over my chest again. “Why now? After all these years?”

  He looked down at his boots. “I don’t know. It just felt like it was time.”

  Something told me that wasn’t the whole truth, but I didn’t press him. Maybe it had taken him this long to grow tired of carrying the burden of his guilt. Who was I to insist he keep doing it?

  “Okay, Dallas,” I said, letting my arms drop. I imagined myself letting go of all the hurt like a child releases a helium balloon into the sky. “I forgive you.”

  His shoulders relaxed as he exhaled. “Thank you.”

  “Feel better?”

  “Yes. Do you?”

  “Yes.” It was the truth. I hadn’t realized how much I’d needed to hear him say those words, even after all that time. Maybe now my nightmares would stop. This had to be what the universe was warning me about, right?

  “Well, it was good to see you,” he said, pulling keys from his pocket.

  “You too,” I admitted, and suddenly there was a part of me that didn’t want him to go so quickly. “Do you … do you want to come in?”

  He smiled. “Sure, thanks.”

  My heart beat erratically as he followed me into the front hall and shut the door behind us.

  “So are there two apartments in this house?” Dallas glanced up the stairs to the upper flat.

  “Yes.” I opened the door to the lower, which led into my living room. “This one’s mine. How did you find out my address, anyway?”

  “It wasn’t that hard.”

  “That’s actually kind of scary.” I shut the door behind him.

  “You live alone?” he asked.

  “Yes.”

  He wandered over to the bookcase along one wall and studied my framed photographs. “These are your sisters, right?”

  I walked over and stood next to him, shoulder to shoulder. Or rather shoulder to bicep, since I was a good five inches shorter than he was in my bare feet. “Yes. That’s Stella, the oldest,” I said, pointing to her in a photo of the three of us taken at Emme’s engagement dinner a couple weeks ago. “And that’s Emme, my middle sister. She’s getting married this fall.”

  “Everyone looks happy.”

  “We are.”

  He glanced down at me. “I’m glad to hear that.”

  Our eyes met, and something happened in my chest that made me back away and head for the kitchen. Put a little distance between us. “I’m thirsty. If I go into the other room to get us something to drink, are you going to leave without saying goodbye?”

  “Depends. Are you gonna keep giving me shit about what I did?” He trailed me into the kitchen, which was small and narrow.

  “Maybe.” I took two bottles of water from the fridge and handed him one. “You’d deserve it.”

  “Fair enough.” Leaning back against the counter, he twisted the cap off the bottle and drank.

  Standing across from him, my back against the fridge, I watched, mesmerized by the motion of his throat as he swallowed. When I caught myself staring, I looked down at my water and unscrewed the cap. “So where do you live now?”

  “Portland.”

  “Wow. That’s a ways from here. What do you do there?”

  “I’m a tattoo artist.”

  I had to smile. “Of course you are.”

  He smiled back, and the first genuinely warm current passed between us. “And you have a yoga studio?” he asked, gesturing toward my clothing.

  “Yes.” For a moment, I was self-conscious about my appearance. I touched my messy bun, wishing I’d taken a moment at the studio to redo it. “I taught this morning. Then I came home and took a nap, so I’m —” Then I realized something. My arm dropped. “Hey. How do you know what I do?”

  “Um.” He looked at the ceiling, laughing a little. “I may have drunk-Googled you once or twice.”

  I gasped. “What? That is so unfair! You’re not even on social media, so I had no clue about you.”

  “Does that mean you drunk-Googled me, too?”

  “No.” I sniffed and drank some water before going on. “I sober-Googled you.”

  He laughed again. “I think that might be worse.”

  I kicked him gently in the shin with one bare foot. “At some point, I just wanted to know you were still alive, you big jerk.”

  “I’m alive.”

  “I can see that.” Now that we were through the heavy stuff, I wanted to know more about him. “So fill me in on the last twelve years.”

  “Not much to tell. I graduated from boarding school. Tried college for a year or so but didn’t take to it. Drifted a while. Ended up in Portland and apprenticed at a tattoo shop there. Liked it well enough to stay. The end. Now what about you? You quit ballet?”

  “Yes. I went to New York after high school, had an apprenticeship with ABT, which was—”

  “You did? Maren, that’s fucking amazing. That’s exactly what you wanted.”

  “Thanks.” I tucked a strand of hair behind my ear. “It was what I wanted, but it turns out I wasn’t really suited for that life. Or life in New York City.”

  “Too cutthroat?”

  “I guess. I came back to Michigan and went to college. Got my degree in kinesiology and health with a minor in business and opened the studio a couple years later. The end.”

  “Never been ma
rried?”

  “Not even close. But I like being a free spirit.”

  “Me too.” He studied me for a moment, that crooked grin taking over his mouth, almost like he couldn’t control it. “You look good, Maren.”

  My face warmed. “Thanks, but I’m kind of a mess right now. Obviously, I wasn’t expecting you.”

  “Yeah, I thought about calling first, but I was afraid you might not want to see me.”

  “I’m not sure what I would have said, to be honest. But now that you’re here, I will admit to being glad you came.”

  “Good.”

  “So how long are you in town?” I lifted my water to my lips.

  “Not long. Really I’m just passing through on my way to Boston to see my brother.”

  “Finn?”

  “Yeah. He’s a neurosurgeon, teaches at Harvard Medical School.” Dallas’s tone was flat, as if he wasn’t happy about his brother’s impressive credentials. I remembered how he’d always felt that Finn was his parents’ favorite and figured some of that resentment still lingered.

  “That’s nice,” I said carefully.

  “Yeah.” He swallowed the rest of the water in his bottle in long gulps and put the cap back on it.

  “Here, I’ll take that.” I reached for his empty bottle, and when he gave it to me, our hands touched. I might have done it on purpose.

  Turning my back to him, I opened the pantry door and tossed both empties in. My stomach was doing something dangerously twisty, and I put a hand over it. Took a steadying breath. When I turned around again, he was looking at me with a gleam in his eye.

  “What?” I asked, immediately on guard. I recognized that expression. It said I’ve Got an Idea.

  “You should let me take you out for dinner tonight. For old times’ sake.”

  I shook my head. “I don’t think so.”

  “Why not? Do you have a hot date?”

  “Uh … no.”

  “Do you have something against dinner?”

  “No.”

  “Do you have something against me?” He touched his chest with his hand. God, those hands got to me. Somehow they were strong and graceful at the same time. Masculine, yet elegant. So much talent in them—it was sexy as hell.

  And he’d certainly known how to use them on me.

  Something fluttery happened between my legs, and I squeezed my thighs together, crossing my arms over my chest. Briefly I wondered if I’d plugged my vibrator in to charge. I was going to need it tonight. “No. It’s nothing against you.”

  “Then what’s the problem?”

  The problem is that you still do something to me. But I couldn’t say that out loud.

  “Come on,” he cajoled. “I’m only in town one evening, and I’ve got no one to spend it with. I’ll probably never be back this way, so what do you say you and I catch up a little over dinner? And tomorrow, I’ll be out of your hair.” He opened his arms as if to show me he had no secret weapons or tricks up his sleeve.

  I wavered. After all, he wasn’t suggesting anything other than dinner. I had the whole weekend off, and it’s not like I had any firm plans. Plus, spending time with him might be just what I needed. If the nightmare truly was related to unfinished business between us, then maybe I should take this opportunity to consciously say goodbye. Maybe then the door would open, and I’d be free to move through it.

  He’d have his redemption, and I’d have my closure. The end.

  “Okay,” I said.

  His grin widened. “Great. Where should we go?”

  “You can choose, since this is your last Detroit hurrah. I’m sure there will be something on the menu I can eat.”

  One of his eyebrows cocked up. “Are you a vegetarian or something? Because you used to eat like a hog. I never did know where you put it all.”

  I kicked him again. “Very funny. No, I’m not a vegetarian, but I eat very clean. You know, organic if possible, non-GMO, whole foods.”

  “I get it. Portland is full of people like you.”

  “I take it you’re not particular about what you eat?”

  He shrugged. “A burger is a burger to me. As long as it tastes good, I’m happy. I’m easy like that.”

  “I guarantee a burger made from grass-fed, free-range, locally-sourced beef tastes better than one made from animals pumped full of hormones and antibiotics kept in feedlots full of their own excrement and processed in filthy industrial meatpacking plants.”

  Dallas held up his hands in surrender. “You win. Now please stop talking or I will never enjoy a hamburger again.”

  I smiled sheepishly. “Sorry. I studied nutrition in college and learned a lot about the benefits of responsible, sustainable farming versus industrial agriculture.”

  “You can tell me all about it over our responsible, sustainable dinner. I’ll pick you up around eight?”

  I glanced at the digital clock on the stove. It was just after five, which gave me plenty of time to get ready and maybe sneak in some meditation. I wanted to feel completely at ease with myself going into tonight. “Sounds good. I assume casual?”

  “Considering I haven’t worn a tie in about eight years, that’s a safe assumption. I don’t even think I own a pair of pants that aren’t jeans.”

  I was curious. “What happened eight years ago?”

  “My grandfather died.”

  “I’m sorry. I know you were close.”

  He shrugged. “He was a good guy, the only one in my family I could talk to. He understood me, for some reason. Or at least he didn’t judge me for being unlike my father or my brother.”

  I nodded slowly, picturing the silver-haired man I’d met a couple times. “He was the gunpowder guy, right?”

  “Sort of. That’s how his family made their fortune, anyway, but he’d sold that business before my father was born, and invested all his money in the stock market.”

  “Smart.”

  “He left me a lot. Of money, I mean. Much more than he left anyone else.” All the light had gone out of Dallas’s eyes. “I don’t really get it.”

  “He must’ve trusted you to do the right thing with it.”

  “Or he thought I needed it more than anyone else because I wouldn’t ever make anything of my life.”

  Our eyes met, and for a moment I saw the boy that he’d been, always so hurt by his family’s disapproval. “I don’t believe that for one second.”

  “Yeah, well, you were like him. Always thought the best of me.”

  I tried again, like I always had. “Let me ask you this. Did he put up a lot of barriers between you and your inheritance? Put a lot of conditions on it?”

  Dallas shook his head. “Not one. It was mine almost free and clear.”

  I lifted my shoulders. “There you go. He trusted you.”

  “Thanks.” He smiled and pushed away from the counter. “I should get going. See you at eight?”

  “Sounds good.” I walked him to the front door, and he gave my upper arm a squeeze before heading out to his rental car. I watched him get behind the wheel and pull away, still a little in shock.

  Dallas Shepherd, after all this time.

  I walked back into my flat, closing the door behind me. Grabbing my phone from my purse, I floated, trancelike, through the living room, down the hall, and into my bedroom. I’d planned on calling one or both of my sisters, but instead I lay on my back on top of the covers, set my phone aside, and placed my hands on my stomach. My body had that fluttery, weightless feeling I used to get before going on stage, a combination of nerves and excitement. But I didn’t have anything to be worried about, did I? Tonight wasn’t going to be a performance. I didn’t need to impress him. And it was only natural that a little desire for him lingered. I’d always liked his light eyes. And his agile hands. And his full mouth. His muscular body. His sense of humor. His dimpled chin.

  But it wasn’t a big deal. I wasn’t concerned that he would take advantage of it. He hadn’t even tried to give me a hug.

 
I frowned. Maybe he didn’t find me attractive anymore. Maybe he had a girlfriend. He’d said he wasn’t married, but he never said he was single. A sudden rush of jealousy stole my breath.

  Which was ridiculous.

  Dallas and I hadn’t been together in twelve years. Did I think he’d been celibate all that time? Of course not. I hadn’t, either. But I didn’t like thinking about him with anyone else, so I made up my mind not to do it.

  I wouldn’t think about him with me, either. I wouldn’t think about his hands or his lips or his tongue or his cock, the way he’d touched or tasted or moved, the words he’d whispered in the dark.

  Let me do this to you.

  God, I can’t get enough.

  You know I love you.

  But of course, then there were the words he should have said but didn’t.

  I’m leaving tomorrow.

  I don’t have a choice.

  This is goodbye.

  For a fleeting moment, my throat was tight, and I was that seventeen-year-old girl again. Left behind. Confused. Broken.

  I swallowed hard and closed my eyes, forcing myself back to the present.

  Tonight wasn’t about rehashing the past; it was about making peace with it, so I could stop having that stupid dream. We weren’t rekindling an old flame. We were reconnecting as friends.

  I wouldn’t let him get to me.

  Four

  Dallas

  I lay on the bed in my hotel room, staring at the ceiling but seeing only her.

  She was even more beautiful than I’d remembered, and yet she looked exactly the same. Huge brown eyes, porcelain skin, a dusting of freckles across her tiny nose, adorable heart-shaped face, that perfect round mouth that used to drive me wild. When we started dating, at sixteen, she claimed she’d never even been kissed.

  I’d fixed that in a hurry. And then some.

  She might have been shy and inexperienced at first, but she had a dancer’s intuition and knew how to move her body instinctively. I bet she still did.

  Stop it. Don’t think about her that way.

  I hadn’t planned to ask her to dinner. I’d gotten off the plane this afternoon, rented a car, and driven straight to her house without a clue what I was going to say to her except I’m sorry for being a dick and Please forgive me. All I’d hoped for in return was to hear her say she didn’t hate me and that she was happy.