“Trent, you have to stop him!” I cried frantically, struggling against his hold as the bastard fighting Dalton hit him hard enough, blood sprayed from his mouth. “He’s getting hurt!”
“Not hurt, darlin’. Just watch.”
I wasn’t sure I could. Seeing Dalton getting beat up was torture. The other guy matched him in height but was nowhere near as big. I knew Dalton was strong. I knew he’d been trained to fight, so I couldn’t wrap my head around what was happening.
“Why’s he doing this?” I sniffled, my vision growing blurry with tears. “Why isn’t he fighting back?”
“Purse is bigger if he puts on a show,” Trent answered. “Dalton’s the best fighter here, hands down, but these people wanna be entertained. He can’t just knock a guy out with one punch. Not if he wants to clean up.”
My spine shot straight and my head whipped around. “Wait. Dalton fights for money?”
He lifted a shoulder and cocked his head to the side. “Not really. The money’s just a bonus.”
“Then why?” I asked over the shouts of the crowd.
Trent looked me right in the eye, and I got a feeling he was pleading with me to understand. “Man like him, he needs this, Charlotte. Sometimes, when things get hard, you need a way to work all that anger out so you don’t lose it on the people you care about. This is his way.”
I couldn’t say I didn’t understand. But that didn’t mean I had to like it. “But isn’t it dangerous?”
He actually smiled at me then. “Nah, not for him. You know as well as anyone, that man’s got a skull thicker than most.” His attention turned back to the fight. “Now watch.”
I turned back just in time to see Dalton was done putting a show on for the crowd. He dodged the next two hits with ease before letting loose on his opponent.
In less than thirty seconds, the fight was over. The other guy was lying on the filthy ground at Dalton’s feet, struggling to get up, and the crowd had gone insane.
“Come on, we gotta go. He sees you, he’s likely to lose his mind.” Trent said, grabbing my hand and pulling me back the way we came. I didn’t bother arguing or try to stop him. I was too busy trying to wrap my head around what I’d seen and how I was feeling.
I remained silent the whole drive back to Dalton’s house, unable to piece a single sentence together through the thoughts swirling around in my mind.
I managed a small goodnight before heading down the hall and closing myself in the bedroom. I moved on autopilot, changing into my sleep clothes, but before I climbed into bed, I grabbed the first aid kit I’d seen under the bathroom sink and brought it with me.
I fell asleep that night replaying what Trent had said over and over in my head. If fighting was what he needed to do to work out his demons, who in the world was I to judge? I tried to stave mine off by refusing to talk about them and pretending they didn’t exist. At least he had a method. All I had was denial and secrets.
He was gone the next morning before I’d woken up, but when I looked over to the bedside table, the first aid kit was no longer there. In its place was a note in Dalton’s long, slanted handwriting.
Thanks, it read.
It wasn’t much, but I guess it was better than nothing.
Chapter Twenty-Four
Charlotte
The bright sunshine spilling through the gauzy curtains and into the room felt a bit like a slap in the face. It was as if the birds tittering happily outside the window were mocking me.
“Stupid beautiful day,” I grumbled to myself as I rolled away from the window to face the other side of the bed. Like it had been every morning for the past week since I saw Dalton fight, the side that he had slept on was empty by the time I woke up. Not that it really made a difference whether he was here or not, considering it felt like there was a Grand-Canyon-sized rift between us, even when we were in the same damn bed.
Things hadn’t gotten any better. If anything, I felt like he was slipping further and further away from me with each passing day. I’d hoped we’d crossed some sort of bridge that night a week ago, but nothing had changed.
I could practically feel the eggshells we’d been walking around the past two weeks embedded in the soles of my feet.
I didn’t have a clue where we stood in our relationship, and even though we were basically living together, I missed him like I would a limb, and the fact that we were barely talking only made the pain that much worse.
I shifted to my back, relieved to be able to do it without wincing now, and stared up at the ceiling, letting out a heavy, melancholic sigh.
“Oh good, you’re awake.”
My head jerked around on the large mound of pillows, looking across the space just as Dalton came out of the bathroom clad in nothing but a white towel, hanging precariously off his trim waist.
I hadn’t expected him to still be here. This was only the second morning I’d seen him in all the time I’d been stuck here.
Water from the recent shower dripped from the tips of his hair onto his broad shoulders, sliding down his glistening bare skin and over the generous muscles currently on display. I wasn’t sure if it was just my imagination, but his abs seemed to be even more cut than I remembered, standing out in a way that was impossible not to notice. And that sexy V at his hips was acting as an arrow, pointing into the towel to something I knew all too well was beyond impressive.
My throat worked on a thick swallow, suddenly feeling exceedingly dry, like I’d swallowed a wad of cotton.
I blinked, dragging my eyes off his rippling . . . everything, and looked back to the ceiling before I could be caught ogling.
“Yep,” I replied, trying to keep my tone as neutral as possible. “Wide awake and ready to take on the day.” I pushed up to sitting, following him with my eyes as he crossed the room to the walk-in closet that now held a good bit of my clothes, as well as his. “I’ve got a big day planned. I’m thinking first I might stare out a window for a little bit, count the leaves on the trees and stuff. And when I get worn out from that, maybe I’ll take a nap. You know, busy day and all that.”
He came out of the closet in another pair of superbly worn-in jeans and a white T-shirt while sliding on a soft, faded plaid button-down. His hair looked deliciously disheveled, and when he lifted his arm to rake his hand through the silky strands, I felt a throb between my legs.
“Then I guess I should tell Trent you’re too busy to go over to Ms. Weatherby’s place for lunch.”
I instantly perked up—literally and physically. Dalton’s house was amazing, and in spite of the tension swirling around the air like a thick stew, if I were going to pick anywhere to be under house arrest, it would be here. But I was going absolutely stir crazy. That night at the warehouse a week ago had been the only time I’d left in the past two weeks. I needed a little field trip.
“Wait . . . you set it up for me to have lunch with Ms. W?”
“Ms. W and that friend of yours from work who moved into your old building.” He hooked one of his bold, dark brows up. “Unless you’re not in the mood to go after all that leaf counting and stuff.”
He was teasing, and after weeks of nothing but the occasional stilted conversation and a whole lot of silence, that should have made me feel a whole hell of a lot better, but I was too focused on the fact he’d gone out of his way to do something so nice for me.
“Thank you.” A wave of emotion crashed over me just then, making my voice come out more as a croak than a whisper. “That was really, um . . . thoughtful.” And sweet, and just one of the million reasons I’d fallen for him.
He rolled the cuffs of his sleeves up to mid-forearm as the humor drained out of his expression, leaving him looking rather serious. Once again, I wasn’t able to read him, and it was driving me crazy.
“Yeah, well, it was no big deal.” He turned his back on me, moving toward the dresser where he stashed his wallet and a bunch of other miscellaneous stuff he kept in his pockets. “I should head out. I need to get to th
e office. Trent’s downstairs now, but if you need anything, you have my number.”
With that, he headed out of the bedroom without so much as looking back, and that chasm between us grew wider right before my eyes. That had been the opportunity I’d been hoping for for weeks, my chance to finally talk to him and try to make right everything I’d broken between us. I hated that I couldn’t find the courage to do what needed to be done in order to close the breach.
God, I was such a coward.
Marin sat stiff, her eyes darting around Ms. Weatherby’s apartment like she was afraid the figurines that lined nearly every flat surface were going to come to life at any moment and attack.
“I feel like I’m sitting in the middle of a horror movie,” she whispered to me from the side of her mouth. “I’ve had nightmares like this.”
“Look who’s being dramatic,” I teased, but I got where she was coming from. It took some getting used to, being face to face with all these doe-eyed statues. Hell, even Trent wasn’t immune. He’d barely gotten one step into the apartment before his eyes went big and he stumbled backward, declaring he’d give us ladies some space and wait outside.
“Dramatic or not, I’m not gonna be able to sleep for at least a week.” Marin hissed.
The laugh I tried to swallow down came out as a snort just as Ms. W came shuffling into the living room, carrying a tray with a full tea-service. She placed it on the coffee table next to the stand that held an assortment of different finger sandwiches. I wasn’t necessarily a tea-and-finger-sandwiches kind of girl, but if it was between this or her lemonade, I considered this a win.
“All right, ladies. Lunch is served. Dig in.”
I reached out, grabbing a bite-sized sandwich from the middle plate while Marin got one from the top. “Thanks so much for doing all of this, Ms. W.”
“Always happy to have people over for a visit. Young people nowadays don’t appreciate the elegance of a tea service.”
“I feel so fancy right now,” Marin declared as she lifted her sandwich to her mouth. Then she took a bite, and her face contorted, pinching up like she’d just bitten into the worst thing she’d ever tasted.
Ms. Weatherby watched her closely from behind those Coke-bottle glasses as Marin chewed slowly, not looking away until my friend had swallowed.
“Um . . . wh-what kind of sandwich is this?” she asked as her complexion turned a little green.
“My take on a cucumber sandwich.”
My eyes went round as they darted to the little old lady. “Your take?”
“Yeah. Pickles and mustard. Always thought the real thing was a little too snooty, so I jazzed it up. What do you think?” she asked Marin.
Marin gave her best version of a smile. “Mmm,” she hummed, trying to hide her revulsion at eating something so disgusting. “So good.”
Ms. Weatherby beamed happily, sitting back in her chintz-covered armchair daintily as she held her teacup and saucer. “Good. Eat up, ladies. You’re both too skinny. Need to put some meat on your bones.”
Oh God.
We both forced down a few bites each. I never thought I’d miss the lemonade, but when I crunched into something I thought were sardines, it took everything I had to keep from retching.
After one and a half sandwiches, I swigged back a mugful of bitter tea to wash the taste from my mouth. I should have stayed at Dalton’s house and counted leaves.
“So,” Ms. Weatherby started after several minutes of strained silence in which Marin and I both struggled to keep our food down, “How are things going with you and that big, strong man, Charlie?”
And just like that, the sour feeling of the food in my stomach got much worse at the mention of my new roommate.
“Things are . . . complicated at the moment,” I offered cryptically, not really sure how else to describe the situation with Dalton and me. I looked down at the delicate teacup in my hand, swirling the liquid in the bottom of the cup, unable to maintain eye contact with my two friends.
“Then fix it.”
My head shot up at Ms. Weatherby’s firm, unyielding tone. “It’s not that easy.”
She sat back, her beady-eyed gaze shrewd as she studied me closely. “Nothin’ worth havin’ ever is. You should know that by now, darlin’. Life, in general, isn’t easy, but that doesn’t mean you should just roll over and take whatever comes your way. If you’re unhappy with the way things are going in your relationship, then it’s up to you to do something to change it.”
I leaned forward on a defeated sigh, placing my cup and saucer on the coffee table before leaning deeper into the stiff sofa. “I’m afraid it might be too late. I really screwed up.”
Marin reached over and placed her hand on mine. “Oh, honey, I’m sure it’s not that bad. Whatever it is, I’m sure you can make it right.”
To do that required giving Dalton all my secrets, every ugly, painful, heartbreaking one, and I feared that if he knew everything, he’d realize I wasn’t worth his time. Just like everyone else who’d come in and out of my life since I was seven years old.
“Charlie,” Ms. Weatherby called, pulling me from my depressing musings. She waited until I gave her my eyes before continuing. “Did I ever tell you I was married?”
I blinked in surprise at that revelation. In all the time I’d been living across the hall from Ms. Weatherby, she’d never once mentioned a husband. “Uh, no. You never told me.”
Her gaze trailed off like she was lost in thought, and a wistful smile pulled at her lips, making her papery cheeks wrinkle. “Fifty-three long, happy years,” she said fondly. “He’s the one who started buyin’ me my precious little figurines. Gave them to me as gifts every birthday, Christmas, and anniversary.”
Well that went a long way in explaining why she treasured her collection so much. I understood her love for those little things so much better now and even why she feared them being stolen.
“He passed away a little over ten years ago, and there isn’t a day that goes by I don’t miss him. But it wasn’t always easy. Relationships never are. In fact, I almost ruined everything before it even had a chance to begin.”
Marin and I both leaned forward, our attention rapt. “What happened?” my friend asked on a mystified breath.
Ms. Weatherby’s smile grew a little sad as she admitted, “I almost messed everything up. My parents didn’t approve of the relationship. Jeff was a poor roofer, and they wanted me to marry someone better off, someone with money. To them, financial security was more important than a silly thing like love.
“Jeff came to me one day with a modest ring and the promise that he’d spend every day of his life bendin’ over backward to do everything in his power to make me happy. I was over the moon, but I allowed my parents’ disapproval to give me doubts, so when he asked me to do him the honor of being his wife, I told him no.”
I sucked in a small gasp. I was literally on the edge of my seat, so engrossed in her story like I was living it myself. “Oh my God,” I whispered. “What happened after that?”
She shrugged a tiny shoulder. “Well, he left. Devastated, of course. We both were. But I’ll never forget his parting words as he walked away.”
“What did he say?” Marin asked eagerly.
“He said, ‘I might not have much money, Deloris, but there isn’t a man on this earth who could make you happier than I can. I know what I’m worth and what I deserve. I just hope it’s not too late for you once you come to your senses because I won’t wait forever,’” she said, deepening her voice to mimic the timbre of a man.
“Oh wow.” Goosebumps broke out across my skin. “That’s a really good parting line.”
The sorrow melted from her expression, replaced with one of sheer approval. “Wasn’t it, though? That was my Jeff. Always had a gift for words.”
“So what did you do?” Marin asked.
Ms. Weatherby’s white brows lifted from behind her glasses. “Well, I knew I’d made the biggest mistake of my life as soon as he
walked away, but I let my pride stand in the way of runnin’ after him right then and there. It took a month for me to come to my senses.”
My jaw dropped open. “A month?”
She nodded seriously. “Worst month of my life. But I finally realized, despite what my parents said, love was more important than anything. It was more important than money or pride or secrets,” she added, looking right at me while arching a knowing brow. Damn clever woman. “He made me work for it. I’d hurt him, after all, and men won’t admit it, but they’re very sensitive. However, I eventually earned his trust back. I’d never lost his love, but love without trust isn’t really worth much. Anyway, I got him back, and we were married three weeks later.”
Marin collapsed back into the sofa with a dreamy smile on her face. “Wow, that was like a real-life fairy tale.”
“Far from a fairy tale, darlin’,” Ms. Weatherby professed. “Fairy tales are fiction. Real life is hard and messy and painful at times. There’s no such thing as perfect. But perfect is boring. Real life is so much better than a fairy tale because you worked and fought for everything you have. We had our ups and downs just like anyone. There were days that man drove me out of my head, but we loved each other, and we were happy. Always happy. That’s all that matters.”
At Marin’s sniffle, I turned to look as she brushed a lone tear from her cheek. “Ms. W, I just have to say, you’re probably the coolest lady ever.”
My neighbor sat back, lifting her teacup to her smirking lips. “Darlin’, please. Tell me somethin’ I don’t already know.”
Chapter Twenty-Five
Charlotte
“Have a good lunch?”
Trent’s question pulled me back to the present. Ms. Weatherby’s story had been bouncing around inside my head since the moment Marin and I said our goodbyes earlier. I hadn’t been able to stop thinking about what she’d said, her not-so-subtle comment about love being more important than pride and secrets.
Playing for Keeps (Hope Valley Book 10) Page 18