by Elle Kennedy
But now for a dilemma. Did he call out or track her down first?
Dean paced slowly through the room, noting the papers covering the tabletops, bold lines slashed across notepads everywhere. Emma’s artwork—God, something inside cut deep like a slashing knife as the memories hit. She used to doodle on his homework as they’d sit beside each other for hours in the library or local greasy spoon. His fingers tangled with hers so she’d have to draw left-handed.
She hadn’t cared. They’d just wanted to be together, at least until he’d gone and fucked it all up.
Screw this pussyfooting around. “Emma?” he called, stepping into the hallway leading farther into the suite.
He entered a bedroom, and barely ducked in time as something swung past his head.
“Stop—it’s me,” he shouted, hurrying to get out of range of the baseball bat she wielded like a pro. This? He hadn’t expected. “Emma, stop.”
She threw the bat at him and he deflected it, turning back to confront her when a blow struck his chin, snapping his head back. He threw up his hands, but she already had a tight grip on his shirt, fists dragging him forward as he lurched off balance from the shock of the blow.
But it was the knee smack dab in his groin that drove the air from his lungs and sent him to the floor gasping for breath. Seeing stars. Feeling a whole lot of sorry for himself and his balls.
“Emma.”
He wanted to say it commandingly, but the noise that escaped him was a cross between a wheeze and a moan, and he lay curled in a fetal position for a while, hands cupping his crotch.
Maybe this hadn’t been a good idea.
Dean cracked open one eye and rolled cautiously to his back only to discover Emma was now standing over him, legs spread wide and sheer determination on her face as she pointed a Glock at his gut.
Nope. This hadn’t been a good idea at all.
Chapter Six
Emma had been timing him. Since the banging on her door ended, Suz had warned her it would take Dean approximately fifteen minutes to somehow get into her apartment.
According to her watch, it had been eighteen. “Have you never seen a closed door before? Do you know what it means?” she demanded.
He curled up slightly, his cheeks ashen white. “Of more immediate interest to me, have you ever heard the saying ‘don’t point a gun at someone unless you intend to kill them’?”
She deliberately shifted the nine-millimeter, the trajectory now in line with his groin. “Or maim. I grew up in Texas, too. You don’t have to lecture me about guns.”
Dean lifted those dangerous gray eyes to hers, speaking softly. “I just want to talk. To apologize, and as soon as I’m done I’ll get out of your hair. I promise.”
Emma made a rude noise but reluctantly lowered the gun. “You almost had me until that last comment.”
Then she spun on her heel and left him on the floor, making her way back to the kitchen. She put away the gun and put on the kettle to make some tea. He followed not long after, walking funny as he entered the room and pulled out a kitchen chair, sitting gingerly.
She didn’t want to feel sympathy toward him. She didn’t want to, but damned if there wasn’t a trickle of guilt running up her spine. Emma opened the freezer and grabbed an ice pack. “Here.”
He caught her rather wild toss easily, looking down in confusion for the briefest second before his expression stiffened. “Way to rub it in. While I’m glad to know you can defend yourself, I can’t believe you got the drop on me like that. Taekwondo?”
“Jazzercise.”
Emma deliberately turned her back, partly so he could place the ice pack in a strategic location without being watched, and partly to hide her amusement. She wasn’t about to discuss her martial arts training with him. Damn it, she needed to put up some walls. She didn’t want compliments. Especially not from this man.
And she didn’t want to hear his explanation, either. At this point, any excuses he could offer would be more about easing his conscience then ridding her of any past pain.
Yet…if listening to whatever bullshit reason he had for his actions meant they could finally end this forever, maybe she should hear him out. They could get it over with, then she would escort him to the door, close it firmly behind his very fine ass, and never see him again.
They could both get on with their lives.
“Tea?” she asked grudgingly.
“No, thanks.”
She went on stirring her own cup, placing the spoon to the side and making her way to the living room. If she had to listen to this, she may as well be comfortable.
He stared after her, twisting slightly where he sat until he faced her. Although she’d slipped into a pair of leggings before he’d broken in, she’d left her oversized shirt on, and the neckline was so wide it kept falling over one shoulder. Dean’s gaze lingered on her bare skin for a moment before rising to meet her eyes.
“You’re not going to make this easy, are you?”
He spoke quietly, and her back stiffened. “I don’t know. What do you consider easy? Answering questions and dealing with snide comments for six months about why your boyfriend vanished? Canceling out of an apartment and losing the damage deposit because the person you were supposed to move in with is no longer in the picture? Are those things easy when you’re eighteen and in love and abandoned?”
Dean’s lips were a tight line, but it wasn’t anger on his face—it was shame. “I’m sorry. I really, truly am, Em. And for what it’s worth, it was a mistake not talking to you before I left. I’ve lived with that regret all these years.”
She thought about the women Suz described as floating in and out of Dean’s life like sexual confetti, and wondered at his definition of regret. “It was a long time ago, and it doesn’t change anything in the here and now. You left, period. I had to deal with it, and I did.”
“It was still wrong of me, and I know it’s no excuse except I was nineteen and at the moment I didn’t see any other solution.”
Emma stared down at her hands, surprised to find that they were steady. That even though she was cold inside, she really didn’t feel any anger right now. Just a dull ache inside and an enormous sense of sadness at what could have been.
“Dean, we had everything planned. We were moving in together. We were going to build a life together.” A soft laugh escaped, and if the sound was slightly bitter, she couldn’t help it. She lifted her head to look him in the eye. “I turned down a scholarship to Milan because we were going to take on the world. And instead, I found out from someone at the grocery store that you were gone. That you had boarded a bus headed to San Antonio. And then you never came back…”
The sadness in his eyes was real. “I couldn’t stay.”
“And you couldn’t call? Couldn’t write?” she demanded. “You couldn’t do any of those things that would have let me know it was nothing I had done to chase you away? The closest I got to finding out what happened to you was one of your brothers going out of his way to get in digs about how even you couldn’t stand to be with someone like me. That you’d rather get shot than end up stuck with a scrawny bitch—”
“I nearly killed him.” Dean’s tone was ice cold as he interrupted. “I went from…a bad meeting…to home, and my dad laid into me. Going on about how I was useless and a fuck-up, and how he’d teach me to show some respect, and instead of standing there and taking it, I swung back.”
Emma froze, her fingers tightening as memories of Dean’s father swamped her. The man had scared her, nearly as much as Dean’s brothers. Back then she could never understand how her sweet, tender lover could have come from the same family.
Dean paused, waiting to see if she would say anything, but when she remained silent he carried on, the deep tone to his voice turning more gravelly the longer he spoke, as if he was forcing out the words. “All I could see at that moment was this selfish, prejudiced bastard who didn’t want anything good for me. I was already mad, and I just hit him again an
d again. It was like this haze settled over me, and by the time I got control of myself, he was on the floor, barely breathing.”
God. “I never heard a word.”
Dean shook his head. “Confess that his nineteen-year-old son had put him on the ground? Not my old man. Not the self-declared champion of every dirty underground fight club in the area. That would be like admitting I wasn’t the weak loser he’d always called me.”
“He could have pressed charges.”
“Maybe, but he liked to hurt me himself. Letting the law do it wouldn’t have been his style.” Dean got up and walked over to the couch. He settled in the single chair to the side of her, dragging a hand through his hair and leaving it a rumpled mess. Then he leaned forward on his elbows. “I couldn’t stay. Getting the hell out seemed like the only option, so I hopped on a bus, skipped town and enlisted. I had the money in my pocket and not much more, and by the time I realized what a shit I’d been, I was off in basic training and I wasn’t coming back.”
Emma sighed. Her heart ached for the kids they’d been. For what he’d dealt with in the past.
But it didn’t change anything about the present.
“I’m sorry you had to go through that,” she said honestly. “No one should ever fear their father.”
Dean nodded sadly. “Afterward, when I realized I should’ve talked to you, I tried to get in touch. I called, and texted, and e-mailed, but your number had changed and you never answered my e-mails.”
“I was mad. You’d been silent for months at that point, so I didn’t care anymore.” Total lie. She’d cared too much. Emma swallowed as a mess of emotions swirled through her. “Plus, I managed to get into the design program I’d turned down after you and I decided to move in together. I contacted them and ended up on a waitlist, and when someone canceled out four months later, I left Taraville and headed to Italy.”
“Then to Paris and London. And now New York.” Dean awkwardly gestured to the elegant suite around them. “You’ve done well for yourself.”
She stole a glance at her watch, suddenly reminded of the walking disaster that was Lorenzo. “It’s not what I expected, but it’s a decent life.”
“You’ve seen a bit of the world.”
Where was he going with this? “You did, too, I’m sure. When you were in the army.”
Dean shrugged. “Military tours aren’t quite the same thing. They’re more like crawling around the underbelly of a city instead of touring the Crown Jewels.”
Emma was at a total loss about how to end this, so she simply rose to her feet, and Dean reluctantly did the same. “Look, as unorthodox as your entry to my suite was, I’m glad you told me everything. But now if you don’t mind, I have some work to do.”
She attempted to usher him toward the door, but he stood there like an unmovable statue. Folding his arms, he tilted his head to the side. “I’d swear you were trying to get rid of me.”
“You said you wanted to apologize. To explain. You’ve done both.” An enormous sigh escaped her. “Dean, I really am sorry for everything that happened to you. I think it’s absolutely horrific, and if your father were still alive I would give the man a piece of my mind he would never forget. But it was a long time ago. So… ”
“So, you accept my apology?”
“Of course.” She brushed past him on the way to the door, crossing her fingers that he would follow behind her because if he didn’t move—
His soft tread sounded in her wake. “Can we talk again? Maybe have lunch sometime and catch up?”
She opened the door and clung to the doorknob, holding it in a white-knuckled grip behind her back. “I’m sorry, I don’t have too many opportunities for socializing. I really do need to get back to work.”
“Emma.” He spoke so quietly and tenderly, the way he used to when he was trying to sweet-talk her into doing something he knew she was hesitant to try. “Go out for lunch with me.”
She held on to the door, praying it would help her keep vertical. “I don’t think we have very much in common anymore.”
“You don’t know that.” He reached forward as if to stroke her arm before pulling back, thinking better of it. “That’s why we should have lunch. Or dinner. Or breakfast. Anything that works with your schedule. So we can get to know each other again.”
She shook her head. “We’re two different people now. It’s been too long, and—” Emma hated to do it, but it was the truth. “Now that I’ve heard why, I don’t blame you for leaving, Dean. But it doesn’t change the past. I don’t trust you, and I don’t see that changing anytime soon.”
“Even though I was a stupid, selfish nineteen-year-old?” He eased back, standing straight, and his six-foot-something frame towered over her.
God, he’d grown into a spectacular-looking man. Thick dark hair, deep gray eyes, features that had become more chiseled and masculine with age. He was even more gorgeous than before, and her heart did an involuntary flip as she remembered how firm and skillful his lips had been when he’d kissed her at the Halloween party.
“I’m different now,” Dean said gruffly. “I promise I’m not that thoughtless anymore.”
“I only accept promises from people I trust.” Part of her felt horrid for sticking to her guns, but it was true. She couldn’t take eleven years of pain and simply wipe them away. Too much time had passed, and even knowing he’d had a good reason to leave didn’t make a difference in the here and now.
“People change,” Dean insisted.
Another pang of bitterness tugged at her. “Yeah, so I’ve heard. Man about town, aren’t you?”
“What are you—?” His earnest expression changed to one of sheepish dismay. “Suz. She’s been telling stories.”
“Don’t blame Suz. I’m pretty sure I could’ve gone down to the local supermarket and gotten most of the information from the National Enquirer. Quite the lady’s man, the new Dean Colter. Sex god, Olympic-caliber kisser, etcetera, etcetera…”
Before she could move, Dean caught her hand in his, leaning down so he could look her straight in eye. “That can change, too. Let me prove it.”
Emma felt uncomfortable with him grasping her fingers, but it was less because he was holding her and more because—damn her body anyway—there was a thin line of electricity racing up her arm, and it started where his thumb rubbed back and forth over her wrist. “Dean, this isn’t a good idea. We’re not kids anymore. There’s nothing you need to prove.”
She removed her hand from his grasp and pointedly widened the gap to the hall, stepping back to clear a path for him to leave.
“So that’s a no to breakfast, lunch, or dinner.” He took a couple steps forward, pausing in the doorway to glance back. “I could grab us some coffees.”
“I only drink tea.”
He turned in the hallway and stood there, this solid block of man. No longer the boy she’d been in love with who had changed her world in so many ways, good and bad. She didn’t know this man, and that’s what made it easier for her to close the door.
Close the door, and walk away.
Still, the aching cold inside her was stronger than she had expected.
And if she cried for both of them tonight—for the love-struck, naïve children they’d been—that would be just fine. But only for a little while. Only a few tears to get the whole closure process started.
After that, she could finally move on.
Suz
The pounding on her door refused to stop.
Suz turned up the volume on the TV and pretended no one was there.
Her plans for the evening included an urgent meeting with a tub of choco-choco triple-choco-fudge delight ice cream. Not just because she was still nursing a hangover, but because major guilt had settled in regarding her awkward mistake with Emma. The two of them were in that tentative stage of their friendship where they were still getting to know each other, but after what Suz had done, she was worried she’d killed the friendship for good.
“
I know you’re in there, Suz. Open the goddamn door.”
Fucking hell. Suz dragged herself off the couch and threw open the door before he broke it down. “Stop it. You’ll wake the entire neighborhood.”
He shouldered past her. “Nice of you to answer me promptly.”
“I figured you’d get the hint. I don’t want to talk to you right now.” Suz tightened the belt on her robe, eyeing her ice cream longingly. “Go away.”
“Absolutely not.” Dean stalked into the room and collapsed onto the couch, and then damned if he didn’t snatch her ice cream off the table and spoon up an enormous scoop. He shook the dark chocolate in her direction. “What the hell were you thinking sending me over there without warning me first?”
Shock dropped her jaw, and she didn’t even protest when he shoved the ice cream into his mouth. “Me? Are you kidding me? How am I supposed to warn you about a woman I didn’t even know you knew? Maybe if you’d told me you and Emma had history, I would have been better prepared!”
He licked the spoon angrily. “It was none of your business.”
“Oh, that’s priceless!” Suz leaned forward and grabbed the spoon out of his hand, then proceeded to jab it in the air in front of him. “You tell me every last detail about your life, whether I want to know about it or not. Do you think I enjoy knowing about all the dirty things you and Parker did with my best friend? But no, that’s a perfectly acceptable conversation topic for you.”
“Says the woman who makes sure I know the dick size of every guy she bones,” Dean said irritably. “Talking about sex is normal. It’s what we do, Jonesy. We don’t frickin’ talk about love, okay?”
That threw her for a loop, and she nearly dropped the spoon as she gaped at him. “Love? You love Emma?” She hadn’t gotten much information out of Emma on the phone earlier. All Emma had said was she and Dean had “history”, and was there a reason he was outside her door? When Suz had warned her that a closed door wouldn’t keep Dean out and that he’d be inside soon, the other woman had railed into Suz for arranging an unwelcome blind date, and promptly hung up.