His fingers are squeezing my flesh harshly. As harshly as he’s breathing, as harshly as anguish is rippling through his features. “Willow, I—”
“She’s happy, Simon,” I tell him in a broken, tear-filled voice. “Dean makes her happy. And I think the reason for it is because he’s like you. She loves him because she’s like me and he’s like you.”
“That’s the problem, Willow. That he’s like me,” he bursts out, like these words were sitting on the tip of his tongue all night and only now he got the courage to say them.
“What does that mean?”
“Some days I can’t…” His jaw moves back and forth as he tries to gather his thoughts. “I can’t bear how much I love you. Some days I get so afraid. I feel so weak. I feel like someone is squeezing my heart. Some days I feel like I need you, I need to see you and touch you, smell you or I won’t be able to breathe. I need you to breathe, Willow. I need you to make sense of the world. I need you… too much.”
He grabs my face, his thumbs digging into my cheeks. “He’s like me. He doesn’t love her. This is not love. This is… insanity and madness and addiction. This is a visceral need, you understand? He needs her. He needs her too much. Like me, he struggles with emotions. He’s weak. I can’t… My daughter can’t be with a man like that. I won’t let her be with a man like that, like me. She needs someone… better. She needs…”
When he runs out of words, I duck my face.
I clench my eyes shut to keep my tears at bay and press my forehead to his chest. I know his body inside and out and I know the very spot where he has a tattoo. The one he got for me: WW.
Warrior Willow.
Because he thinks I’m a warrior. And because I’ve got the same tattoo on my wrist.
Why does he always forget that he’s a warrior too?
I rub my forehead against it, the tattoo on his chest, before looking up at him. “God, Simon. You’re an idiot.”
He looks taken aback and I emit out a broken laugh.
“I know you need me, you idiot,” I continue, grabbing his face. “I know that. And it’s okay. Because I need you too. I need you to breathe too, Simon. Needing someone doesn’t make you weak. It just makes you human. You’re human, honey. Humans fall down, remember? You fall down. You get tired. You get exhausted and it’s okay. Because falling down is a part of life. It’s your ability to get back up that makes you my hero. You’re my hero but you’re human.”
Kissing his lips softly, I keep going. “You’re a father, a husband, a man. And you’re having trouble letting your daughter go. It doesn’t matter who she brings home, you’ll always have trouble letting her go.”
“She’s my…” He swallows, his eyes red-rimmed behind his glasses. “She’s still a baby.”
“And he’ll take care of her. He’s always taken care of her.”
He narrows his eyes, as if he’s remembering it, all the years Dean has taken care of Fallon. All the times Fallon would choose to spend time with Dean over spending time with Simon. My husband used to get upset over that too.
“Yeah.”
It makes me laugh. “I know you weren’t a fan of that. You’re a little too possessive.”
“Of course I’m possessive. She’s my daughter.”
“That’s why I didn’t tell you.”
“Didn’t tell me what?”
I bite my lip. “That your daughter has been in love with Dean all her life. She even proposed to him on her third birthday.”
He goes rigid, his chest stops moving up and down. “Excuse me?”
“I knew you’d freak out.”
His jaw tics before he says sternly, “Please tell me you’re joking.”
“Nope. I know it’s a shock but you’ll get used to it. Like I did.” Simon opens his mouth to say something, but I kiss him again and use the same tone that I use with Brendan. “Simon, let it go. It wasn’t easy for me either, but I did. That’s what happens. Kids grow up and fall in love and they leave. The best we can hope is that they find happiness. And Dean makes her happy, remember? Not to mention, Fallon makes our Dean happy too. Dean is our family as well, okay? You’re the one who found a lost boy and saved him. He’s exactly like you. Meaning he’s not sleeping either. He’s probably over there, in his big empty house, torturing himself over what happened. I’m inviting him here tomorrow and you’ll talk to him and put it all behind us. So end of discussion.”
I glare at him for good measure. That always works on Brendan.
It works on my husband too.
But in a very different way.
He loses all his fight and his irritation. His body becomes warm and pliable. Well, as pliable as possible with all his hardness and muscles, and he squeezes my waist again.
“You’re being bossy tonight,” he murmurs, his lips quivering with an oncoming smirk.
“Because you’re being an idiot tonight.”
He laughs and snatches my lips in a kiss. Two seconds into it though, we have to break it because we hear a noise.
It’s coming from the hallway, tiny footsteps and creaking of floorboards.
“Is that…” Simon trails off on a frown.
That’s Fallon and I think I know what she’s doing. Like me, she’s going to her dark-haired, lonely man too.
Maybe this makes me a bad mother, but I really want to laugh. I press my lips together because this is seriously funny.
I swallow down my mirth. “Uh-huh. Yeah.”
Simon is all alert now. “What is she doing?”
“She’s probably sneaking out to see Dean.” He’s about to get up but I stop him. “This is what happens when you forbid kids to do things. They do it anyway. Behind your back.”
“Willow, let me get up. I’m stopping her.”
“No, you’re not.” I put my hands on his broad shoulders, trying to keep him seated. “You stop her now and she’ll try going to him again when we all fall asleep. Just let her go. Let her see him. And judging by everything that happened tonight, he probably needs to see her too.”
We enter into a staring contest, me and my husband. His beautiful gray eyes and my green ones.
I count seconds until Simon loses his fight again.
Seven seconds.
It takes him seven seconds to lose all his fight.
“Fine. But if she’s not back within an hour, I’m going over there and dragging her home.”
Okay, so maybe not all his fight.
And honestly, I’d like that too.
I’m not so naïve as to think that nothing happened between my daughter and Dean when they were traveling together. But as long as she’s here, I’d like both of them to act like the responsible adults they are. So if that includes dragging Fallon back, I’m okay with it.
Smiling, I nod. “Okay. An hour.”
Then I kiss him again and this time we don’t come up for air for what feels like eternity.
“Is this a message for me?” he growls after successfully stealing my breaths.
His eyes are dark and possessive. Almost as possessive as his grip is on my nightie, his knuckles brushing against the underside of my breasts.
Simon is the only person in this entire world who knows me completely. Who can map and chart my stretch marks from our two kids, who knows all the secret spots of my body and who can tell stories about them.
And it’s so heady to think that I’m the only person who can do the same with him.
It’s so heady how the love for my medicine man still flows in my veins the same way it did when I was eighteen and he was thirty-two.
“Yes,” I whisper, moving against him. “And you know what I’m thinking?”
His eyes are hooded and heavy. “What’s that?”
“I’m thinking that I haven’t thanked you for this ugly chair in a really long time.”
Arousal is stamped on his features as he looks at me like he always does. Like he has been since the day we met
in that hallway at Heartstone.
“It’s okay,” he murmurs, his fingers pulling at the fabric of my nightie. “You’ll thank me now.”
“I will.”
For this chair and for the past twenty wonderful years and the twenty that are yet to come.
Dean lives a few blocks away from us.
I’ve been to his house before, numerous times of course. But this is the first time I’m seeing his house at midnight, covered in darkness. His windows, the roof, the porch.
Has it always looked so lonely, so aloof and desolate?
It reminds me of Dean.
Nobody lives here anymore. Or at least, not on the regular. Dean’s dad lives in Europe now. He retired and left just after Mia turned eighteen. It was not a pleasant time in her or Dean’s life, when his dad up and left just like that.
Anyway, Dean lived here all alone up until he left for California. And now when Mia comes back to visit, she usually stays with my mom and dad.
Dean pays someone for the upkeep of the house, the cleaning, the lawn etc.
When he went away and hardly ever came back or called, I would wonder if he’d sell the house. If he’d cut all ties from this place, from us, from me.
But now I know that he wouldn’t have done that.
He loves me. He does.
He never would’ve sold this place.
Even when he was in the throes of denial about my feelings, he never would’ve cut all ties to the place where we found each other.
Anyway, this house reminds me of how he was when I saw him five days ago, when we started our journey back home.
He was so… stern and tight and inflexible. So restrained and lonely. Dark.
Just like this house.
I don’t think he relaxed until last night, until he confessed his love for me. And then, I saw the last vestiges of tightness draining away from him today, when he was with my family.
Our family.
I can’t let him go back to being lonely, not when we’ve just found each other, not when he just got his family back.
So I snuck out of my house—something that I’ve never done before and something I don’t think I’m an expert at in any way.
I never wanted to do this. To sneak out like this behind my parents’ backs, behind my dad’s back. It feels like I’m betraying him or something, and the guilt of it is so heavy, heavier than I thought it would be.
But guilt or not, I have to see Dean. I have to make sure he’s okay after what happened.
What even happened?
My dad didn’t talk all throughout dinner and I was too sad and angry to ask him. I’ve had plenty of fights with my mother while growing up but I’ve never had an argument with Dad. I’ve always obeyed him, always did whatever he said.
Well, except for the two rebellions I recently had.
It doesn’t matter now. It doesn’t matter that I have to go behind my dad’s back because I can’t let Dean be alone.
He’s the man I love. I have to be with him. And tomorrow, I’ll make my dad understand that too. I’ll tell him that I love Dean and I’ll beg him not to make me choose.
For now though, here I am.
I’m at his door and I reach out and give it a loud knock.
A few seconds later, I hear footsteps approaching it and then a click followed by the door opening and revealing the love of my life.
My heart clenches at the sight of him.
At the sight of how messy and tired he looks. His hair’s standing up in spikes, his jaw dark with a five o’clock shadow, and his eyes are shadowed with worry and purple half-moons underneath.
The worry might be for me because he frowns and looks me up and down as if he can’t believe I’m here, and to make sure that I’m okay.
“Fallon?”
“Hey.”
“What the fuck are you doing here?” he snaps, his biceps bulging out of his black t-shirt, strained.
“You weren’t answering my texts or calls and…”
“And what?”
“And I wanted to see you.”
His frown deepens for a second, twitches between his brows before smoothening out. “You shouldn’t have come, Fallon.”
“I had to.”
“And why’s that?”
“Because you’re hurting.”
Something happens when I say that. To him, I mean.
I can’t really describe it other than saying that he draws back, but I know that he hasn’t moved even a micro-inch.
Something ripples through him though, through his entire body, a spasm almost, and his dark features look tighter and more ferocious.
Before I can ask him about it, he grabs my arm and pulls me inside his house. The door snaps shut behind me and he pins me against it.
I’d be scared to find myself inside a house that’s as dark as the night—darker, in fact. The night contains the moon to light it up. Inside Dean’s house, there’s no such relief. No lights, no flickering flame of a candle.
And I’m stuck between the door and him.
Oddly or maybe not so oddly, the very fact eases my fears. The fact that I’m secure, safe, because he has his body draped over mine like a blanket.
“Dean?” I whisper because even though we’re so close and my hands are clutching his t-shirt, I can’t really see him.
I hear him though.
I hear his deep, wild breaths and I hear the slap of his palm against the wall before light floods his entryway.
It takes me a few moments to adjust to the sudden brightness.
But when my vision clears, I find him only inches apart from me. I mean, I knew he was this close to me; I felt him. I felt every inch of him but still, it’s a surprise.
A nice one. A glorious one.
“How’d you get here?” he asks, both his palms on either side of me.
“I snuck out after everyone fell asleep,” I tell him.
He watches my lips as I speak before looking up and into my eyes. “Because I was hurting.”
“Yeah,” I whisper, unfurling my fingers from his shirt so I can bring up my hands and cup his hard, scruffy jaw. “I’m sorry for whatever happened, Dean. I’m sorry for whatever my dad said to you. I’ll talk to him. I’ll fix—”
“Have you ever broken a rule, Fallon?” he asks, his warm, tasty breaths fanning my lips.
I’m not sure why he’s asking me this all of a sudden, especially when he already knows the answer. But I shake my head. “Uh, not really.”
“Not really,” he repeats, his gaze penetrating and probing. “Ever snuck out of the house after your parents fell asleep?”
I shake my head again. “No. Why?”
“But you did it tonight.”
“Yeah.”
“You walk here?”
He asked me the same question back at the motel the night I knocked at his door. It was also the night he said that he wasn’t into little girls like me.
Even though his words are the same tonight, the air around us feels different. More charged up and electric. More dangerous and sharp.
“I did, yes.”
“You did.” He licks his lips and I have to tamp down the urge to touch the tip of his tongue with the tip of my finger or better, with the tip of my own tongue.
“And you did all of that because I was hurting,” he whispers, making me look away from his mouth.
I swallow when he repeats my words for the second time. “Yes.”
“Like you moved across the country because I moved across the country.” His expression turns rigid for a second like he’s seeing that fact in a new light, my moving to the west coast. “That’s what you told me, right? You told me you moved across the country to be with me.”
“Yeah, I did.”
“You’ll do anything for me, won’t you?”
“Yes, anything.”
In the wake of my eager words, his chest moves against mine,
rubbing my nipples as he exhales a sharp breath. A sharp, angry breath that strangely turns me on and makes me want to take away all his anger and hurt at the same time.
“What happened, Dean? Why are you asking all these questions?” I rub my thumbs over his harsh cheekbones. “What’d my dad say to you?”
“He told me the truth.”
His words come out smashed and gritted between his teeth. He does the same with his hands. He presses his fingers into the door. And he presses them so hard that his knuckles, his nails become colorless.
The vein on the side of his neck becomes taut and stiff.
I rub his jaw in soothing circles. “What truth?”
“Truth about me. About how I hurt the girl who’ll do anything for me. Who’ll move across the country. Who’ll sneak out of her house in the middle of the night. For me. Because she thought I was hurting.”
“Dean—”
“He told me, Fallon, how I hurt that girl when I left her two years ago. Because I didn’t know how to handle my fucking feelings for her.”
My hands still on his face. They go stiff and so does my body.
I remember that time when he left me. I don’t like to think about it but it’s there, stored in my memories.
It hurt.
It hurt so much when he left. When he just… vanished. He wouldn’t even call or text. There would be weeks when I heard nothing from him.
It was hard. Harder than my illness, him being gone. With my illness, I knew that I had to fight through it. Even though it didn’t feel like it, I knew that if I kept fighting through it, I might come out of it.
California Dreamin' Page 9