Love Is Crazy (Love Is… #1)

by Abby Brooks

  “I used to believe in love. Life just has a way, you know?” The anger has faded from Dominic’s eyes and now I feel like I’m just seeing him, the truth of him without all the emotions behind it. “Now I mostly wonder if it’s all just fairy tale stuff sold to us to keep us docile.”

  “What happened?” I swallow and try to ignore the strange surge of fear that sends a bit of ice through my veins.

  Dominic stares at me for a long time and I really start to regret all the questions I’ve been asking. I mean, maybe I’m going too fast. Digging into the bits and pieces of him that he’s not ready to share. Or won’t ever share. Or that I won’t like to hear.

  “Did you know I actually grew up in Farmington?” he asks, interrupting my inner monologue of self-doubt. “That town you visited with your friend? With the carnival?”

  I shake my head. “No, I didn’t.” My mind is nothing but question marks and exclamation points. Farmington?! This seasoned world traveler grew up just a few miles away from me? In a town barely bigger than mine? I struggle to marry what I know about the man in front of me with what I remember about the boys I met who grew up there.

  “Maybe that’s why I fell so in love with those National Geographic pictures. I got a little tired of the corn, too.” He winks at me and my jaw drops.

  “But you were busy going on and on about its beauty…”

  “Because it is beautiful. I just had to leave to figure it out.” Dominic shrugs and falls silent.

  This would be a perfect point to stop poking the bear. To stop asking dumb questions about things he clearly isn’t comfortable talking about. Just lean back in my chair and go back to enjoying the scenery with a hot man I barely know.

  “So what does Farmington have to do with love being a fairy tale?”

  Or, you know, I could just go on and keep pushing the matter.

  Dominic clears his throat. “I fell in love with my high school sweetheart. Melinda. I’m talking hard core in love. We dated our junior and senior years and I never looked at another girl.”

  “That’s a pretty big claim. I don’t think there’s a teenaged boy on the planet who only has eyes for one girl.”

  “Well, there was.” He points his thumbs at his chest. “This guy. I let my love for her define me. We graduated. I was young and dumb and idealistic. You know that carnival you were talking about? I took her there that summer. Had a ring in my pocket and a promise in my head. She had other ideas.”

  I try to imagine a young Dominic Kane, head over heels and ready to profess his undying love to his high school sweetheart. I didn’t think I could like the guy any more than I already did. I also know he’s expecting me to judge him for this, but it only makes him all the more endearing.

  “We were standing in front of this ridiculous ride. My big plan was to get her on it and then pop the question as we came to a stop, while our hearts were still racing from the adrenaline. Instead, while we were waiting in line, she told me she wanted to break up. That she had been seeing someone else. No…” The pain of that night twisted his face. “She said she had been fucking someone else. Said we’d grown apart. That it was nothing more than a foolish dream to think we would love each other forever. I lost my mind. Said a lot of awful things. Even threw the ring at her. I stormed away as she called after me. I just told her to ride the damn ride and let the wind wipe away all her memories of me or something dumb like that.”

  Dominic swallows and clears his throat. “She did. It malfunctioned and she was thrown from the ride. Died on the spot.”

  He watches me digest the story and it gets stuck in my throat. What do I say? How do I say it?

  “It wasn’t your fault,” I say, taking a wild guess at the hidden meaning behind his story.

  “I hear that a lot. And I believe it. Now. Most of the time.” He makes an apologetic face. “There was a long stretch of time that I spent unable to sleep, kept awake by all the guilt. If only I’d been strong enough to just walk away. If only I’d been man enough to stay and fight with her. For her. Maybe she wouldn’t have gotten on the ride. The ride I told her to get on.”

  I open my mouth to protest and Dominic interrupts.

  “I’ve made my peace with it now.” He smiles at me. “It’s lost most of its weight. It’s just a thing that happened to me.”

  The look in his eyes says that he means what he’s saying, but I’m not so sure it’s as true as he thinks it is. “Maybe,” I say and want to clamp a hand over my mouth so I will just stop talking already and not make thing weird. “Except you’re kind of still carrying it around.”

  Dominic squints at me and my heart starts going all kinds of fluttery and crazy. I promise myself that if I make it through this conversation without him getting all mad at me, then I will just shut up and smile and not worry about pushing him for more information.

  “How so?” he asks and I remember the way he looked when he had his arm around that guy’s neck at The Bad Apple. Not that I think he’s going to get me in a choke hold or anything, but he’s just got that dangerous air about him.

  You know what? In for a penny, in for a pound. If he’s the kind of guy I have to walk on egg shells around, then maybe he’s not the guy for me. And that was the point of this whole conversation, right? Finding out who he really is?

  “Well,” I say and twist in my chair so I can really look him in the eye. “If it was just a thing that happened to you, it wouldn’t still be keeping you bitter about love.” Dominic starts to protest and I hold up my hand. “I’m not saying you’re bitter—”

  “You totally just called me bitter.”

  “Well, you are the one who just told me that not everyone was entitled to a happily ever after. That sounds a little bitter, Dominic.”

  He shrugs. “I guess maybe I’m a little bitter. But I’ve let myself love four people in this live, Dakota. My sister, my parents, and Melinda. My sister was ripped from my life when I was too young to understand and there’s still a gaping hole in my heart where she belongs. My parents slowly froze themselves out, growing more and more distant after her death, after they realized that I just wasn’t going to be her. And then Melinda. I gave her my heart. All of me. Not only did she hand it back to me all crumpled and bruised, but she died before I had any chance at closure. Any at all.”

  Jesus. Now that he puts it that way, maybe I was too quick to judge. Maybe, with my happy London upbringing with all my favorite people still around to hold onto when times are hard, I had no right to tell him anything about how to handle his battle scars.

  I try to apologize and he waves it off. “My heart is just surrounded by scar tissue is all. Makes it a little tougher, a little harder to get to. But,” he says and makes a face that has excitement running up and down my spine. “Once you’re in, you’re in for good.”

  I don’t know if he was trying to lay down a serious hint right there or not, but I took it whether he meant it that way or not. I’m tingling with excitement. Busy wondering how far into his heart I already am. We sit in silence as the sun sets the sky on fire and then puts itself to bed. At some point, he reaches out and takes my hand, twining my fingers with his. My thoughts keep swirling around his words, wondering at their meaning, but I finally, with the help of a little more beer, manage to talk myself into just letting it be. Why worry about what this relationship is when I can just sit here and enjoy the way we’re together? Why worry about the future at the expense of the present?

  Especially when the present includes watching the moon rise over the Grand Canyon while a flickering fire casts undulating shadows out past the tall trees. When my hand is in his and his is in mine and this is quite possibly the best day of my entire life. Why waste this moment over worry about what might be?

  I stop stifling my yawns and just let them go, leaning my head back into my chair, eyes blurred with jet-lag, beer, and the weariness that only comes after an exciting day. Dominic catches me dozing and helps me stand. We crawl into our tent. Change into our pajam
as and curl up together. We’re on our sides, Dominic’s front pressed to my back, his arm around me, holding me close. I fall asleep with his breath in my hair, the warmth of his body seeping into my own.

  It’s nice.

  It’s better than nice.

  It’s absolutely wonderful.

  Chapter Twenty

  I listen to Dakota’s breaths deepen as I hold her close. Breathe her in. I don’t know what to make of our conversation tonight. It hurt like hell to hear her call me bitter, to admit that I guess I still am. And as she was busy probing deeper, asking too many questions, resentment rose up from some deep, dark, ugly place inside me and I wanted her to just shut the hell up.

  Was it a mistake to bring her? A mistake to make her think that this could ever be more than it is?

  Except that’s the thing, even just thinking that right now, a thought that assumes Dakota is nothing more than a fling—a moment in time—even as I thought it, a part of me argues that if ever there was a woman to let into my heart, she’s the one.

  I just don’t know if I have it in me to give it to her.

  Because I will never sit still. I cannot be in one place. I cannot have the roots that her love for her family will have created in her. And I can’t expect her to wait around for me while I flit about the globe. What kind of relationship would that be? An unfair relationship, that’s what.

  And I can’t expect her to come with me. Not now, while what we have is still so young. Whatever it is that we have. We kind of defy definition.

  I laugh, a little derisive sound that pulls Dakota from sleep. She stirs and whimpers. I pull her even closer and she snuggles into me, sighing herself back to sleep.

  We defy definition. That’s not just true of our little crazy fling of a relationship we have going on, but it’s also true of ourselves. Neither one of us fit into any box, any label. We are each our own brand.

  But that’s not really true either because I think we are both the same brand. That she and I are lock and key, yin and yang, made to go together. One flowing into the other, a perfect half of an even better whole.

  And yet, lying here with her tucked up against me, I’m afraid of how good it feels. Afraid for her. Afraid for me. Afraid of the truth.

  She feels better than anyone I’ve ever met. In all ways. In all things. She is my answer and judging from the way she’s been looking at me, from the way she spoke to me tonight, I am hers.

  And that’s such a delicious fantasy that I can’t help but smile, and that’s the problem in and of itself. I only have her for another week at most. The time here at the canyon and then in Vegas. And then it’s over.

  The end.

  Amen.

  And is it fair for either one of us to open ourselves up to the other if we’re just going to end up with another hole in our heart? I don’t know if I can handle missing another part of myself like that. I’m afraid that if I let her in and lose her to the realities of our lives that I’ll just unravel. All the broken pieces of myself will come unglued and I’ll be left with nothing but pictures instead of memories. Pixels on a screen, ink on paper, the world seen through a lens rather than through my own eyes.

  I sigh. Sleep is far away and my thoughts keep chasing it further.

  Maybe it was a mistake to bring her here. A mistake to prolong the inevitable. A mistake to give us more time before the end that is looming ahead of us, more time to know each other. To learn the things that make us who we are, the things that make us perfect for each other. Maybe I should have said goodbye to her yesterday. Deleted her pictures and moved on.

  Maybe it would have been better for us both that way. Safer. Saner. A clean break without all the jagged edges of heartbreak.

  Maybe it’s not too late. Maybe I can push her out of my heart and pull myself out of hers and we’ll both be better off for it at the end of the week.

  Somewhere, out in the distance, a coyote howls, wailing up to the moon. Goosebumps ripple out across my flesh and I pull Dakota closer to me. I’ll hold her tight for just this one more night before I choose to let her go.

  Chapter Twenty-One

  My head is throbbing. It’s the pain that pulled me awake and the pain that makes me want to roll right back into sleep. I reach for Dominic and find that I’m alone in the tent. Just the faintest of light is gleaming on the other side of the nylon walls. Dawn. The best light for pictures.

  And I’m missing it. Dominic’s out there without me.

  I push myself up into a sitting position and cringe as the world tilts and twists and pain lances through my temples and into my eyes. There’s a bottle of water next to me. A little note taped to it. Drink me, it says.

  I do, finishing most of the bottle in one long pull. I didn’t think to pack anything for headaches, because, um, I’m dumb, I guess. Something tells me Dominic did. That he’s the guy with all the answers. The wise one. The prepared one.

  I get dressed and pull my hair back into a messy bun. Pull my sunglasses out of my purse and slide them on before I crawl out of the tent, still squinting against the early light. Holy fuck I’m so glad I didn’t miss this. The red rock is outlined in gold from the rising sun, a pinprick of energy just now appearing at the edge of the horizon in a supernova of yellow and gold streaking out across the sky.

  I sigh and almost forget I have a headache, almost forget to wonder where Dominic is. Lost in that feeling again, the one that makes me feel big and small all at the same time. I am nothing in the wake of such vast magnificence and somehow, being inconsequential is the most connected feeling I’ve ever had.

  No one else is awake yet. It’s just me out here, alone in this experience, yearning to share it with Dominic. Where did he go? I’m sure he was trying to be sweet, letting me sleep in, but I feel just the tiniest bit abandoned.

  I put my head in my hands and groan. Run my fingers back along my hair as I take a deep breath in and stretch my arms out to the sky. There’s movement beside me. The click of a camera and I drop my arms and smile.

  Click again.

  “Hey,” I say.

  Click. “Hey.” He’s still looking at me through the camera, still watching me through the lens.

  “It’s gorgeous.” I gesture towards the sunrise.

  Click. He nods. He changes positions. Click again. His silence is off putting. The frequent pictures unnerving. I just want him, Dominic the person. I don’t want to be separated by his camera. I want to be with him, not another one of his subjects.

  “You were right about the alcohol. I’ve got a pounder.”

  “Did you get the water I left?” Click.

  I smile, the big fake one that he never takes a picture of. “Yep.” Click. “Thanks.”

  I try not to let him see the frustration on my face. Try not to show him that last picture hurt me. He’s the guy that sees me. The one person I thought had seen through the big fake one-thousand-watt smile and knew how to wait for the ones that mean something. The fact that he took a picture just then, one that is sure to be like all the ones I’m used to seeing of myself—bad—that makes me wonder if he ever really saw me at all.

  Or maybe he’s just as jet-lagged and hung over as I am.

  “You wouldn’t happen to have any pain killers would you?” I ask, shrugging sheepishly. “I didn’t think to bring any.”

  Finally, he lowers the camera. “You want to just stay here while I go out? Rest up? You don’t have to push yourself, you know. I can go get these shots by myself.”

  Well now I’m really getting upset. Of course I don’t want to sit in the tent all day while he goes out, seeing and experiencing. I came here to get some adventure. With him. Headache or not, I’m going.

  “That’s very sweet,” I say because maybe he was trying to take care of me. Not push me away. “But I came here to see the sights. I’ll be damned if I let a little headache get in the way.”

  Dominic shrugs. “Suit yourself.” He disappears back into the tent and comes out with two white pills
in one hand and a bottle of water in the other. “I’d go heavy on the water today,” he says, his eyes focused on something over my shoulder.

  “Are you a coffee drinker?” I ask, hoping that he doesn’t hear the hidden why are you kind of being an asshole question behind the question.

  He shrugs. Again. “Sometimes.” And now he’s fiddling with the strap on his camera and I swear it’s because he doesn’t want to look at me. What happened? Did our conversation last night not go the way I thought it had? Is he really just another broken asshole licking his wounds? Fine as long as we were dealing with superficial stuff, but now that I know more about him, he’s going to back off and push me away?

  I hate to think that my sisters were right because they will never let me live this down. Plus, I actually really like Dominic. I don’t want him to be just like every other guy out there. I thought he was better than that.

  “So, what about this morning?” I ask. “Do you need some coffee?” I have no idea how we’d get coffee. At the store? Maybe he’s got a way to make it on the fire? But if he’ll answer me and the man wants coffee, I will damn well figure out how to make him some.

  “It’s a double-edged sword,” he finally says. “I would love some caffeine, but it’s going to be a scorcher and dehydration is a real concern.”

  We go about getting ready, carrying our little bags of toiletries over to the restrooms so we can brush our teeth and wash up a little. While I’m in the women’s room, I check my phone because I feel the strongest urge to reach out to my sisters right now. I feel so unbalanced and they always help me find my equilibrium. Of course, I’ve got absolutely zero signal. The thing is pretty much just a gigantic clock. I guess I’m going to have to navigate these murky waters on my own.

  We decide to grab energy drinks at the general store and I pick up a backpack so I can help carry some extra water. Dominic is pleasant, but detached the whole time and by the time we get back to camp and are getting ready to head out, I’ve had enough. He’s had enough time to wake up and get ungrumpy. If I can’t get him to talk to me like a civilized person, then I’ll just have to reach out to him in a different way. I walk up to where he’s zipping up his back and checking the straps on his camera for the millionth time this morning.