Damage Me (Crystal Gulf Book 2) (36 page)

His hand snaked up and touched my hair, pressing his forehead to my temple. “You’re going to do it, aren’t you?”

“What?”

“You’re going to make me fall in fucking love with you, and then you’re going to make me regret it.”

“You’re going to do it, aren’t you?”

“What?”

“You’re going to make me fall completely in love with you, and then you’re going to show me how stupid I was. Again.”

“We can stop that from happening.”

“How?” I wouldn’t stop it. I pressed my tear-soaked face against his skin. I didn’t want to stop it.

“You go home. I go home. We separate. I’m starting to need you too much as it is. You need me too, don’t you, baby?”

“So much.”

“If we break this we can stop the heartache. I feel like I’ve been dealing with heartache since I was a kid. I can’t even remember not running from it. But you might be—no, you will be—the last straw. I have to get better for my daughter. You deserve someone who can be there for you and only you. I can’t do that if I keep looking over my shoulder.”

I shook my head. I was the one deflecting his words now. “I’m hungry. Are you hungry?”

“It’s the truth, Hillary.”

I unwrapped from his body and jumped off the bed. My safe zone. He wasn’t leaving me. “Where are my damn clothes?”

“Whitney can take you home today.”

I couldn’t breathe. Dylan? Away? My tears were blocking my eyes. I was too naked, too exposed, and being pushed aside one more time.

“Save me. Us. Stop this, and save yourself.”

I slammed the bathroom door and braced myself against the counter. Dylan wasn’t going anywhere. If we had to shatter then so be it. We’d explode. Exploding was better than the fear I lived with. We’d assess the damage and learn to live with these cracks. Together. Because apart we were two separate people who were afraid. Together our fear was bulletproof.

Dylan would not take that from me.

I splashed some water on my face and dried it on the hand towel by the sink. After I’d gathered myself as much as possible, I wrenched the bedroom door open to find him staring at the door as if he’d been able to watch me fall apart.

“You want your shirt?”

“Haven’t you suffered enough?” His eyes pled with me.

“No, Dylan. I haven’t. We’re going to suffer together. We’re not going anywhere.” My words were weak, trembling because of his desire to push me away after promising I could have him.

Were all men like this? Did they revel in the satisfaction of making women change for them? Was opening up for them the same as inviting pain into our hearts? I thought I could have what I wanted?
I want you!

He nodded, but his eyes were terrified. “When you think about me in the future remember I asked you to stop this. I warned you, Hillary. I tried to prevent the damage. Give me my shirt.”

I got dressed in the living room, recalling my bad boy—because he was mine—trying last night. His strength was heartbreaking and attractive, beautiful and intoxicating. I wanted his strength. I felt so weak, and he felt so sturdy, as if he could handle my pain better than I ever could. I wondered if it was correct to be this consumed by someone because they’d opened their selves up to me. Knowing he wanted to try with me made me positive my virginity was his. He could have it.

Dylan could have me.

When I returned to the bedroom, I held up his shirt. “Arms up.” He complied, eyes on me like he knew what I was feeling, knew it and wanted it. I ran my fingers through his messy hair and then held his face in my hands. My fingers looked so small on his strong jaw, but able, like his face belonged in my grip and no one else’s. “Kiss me.”

“You kiss me.” His lips caressed my palm.

“Take your lips and put them on mine.”

“Not happening.” But he leaned closer. “How do you do this? I want you, know I shouldn’t have you, want to take your body and make it mine, want to protect it—I’m just trying to do the right thing, baby.”

My breath left me in whoosh. I wanted him. And I wanted an orgasm to be the final product. “I’ve been doing the right thing my entire life, Dylan. I’m starting to learn that sometimes the wrong thing is the most important choice you could ever make.”

His hands settled on my waist. We were sight and breath, too much of one and not enough of the other.

“You’re blinded.”

“By what?”

Instead of answering he gave in with a deep moan. The moment his lips touched mine I felt this intense apprehension. I needed this. His hands, his taste, his mouth—these were the only things in my entire life that had ever made sense. Not my life, my straight A’s, the rules, nothing had ever felt this right before. If he left, if I let him get in the way of what I wanted, this would be gone. How would that work? Who would I be without the one right thing? I’d only ever be wrong.

I’d be stupid forever.

In Dylan’s arms, I was just a girl who made a mistake. I wasn’t someone who broke the rules and suffered. I was a girl who did what other girls did and fell into a monster’s trap. Maybe I shouldn’t blame myself for getting hurt. Maybe the only person in this entire situation who deserved blame was Zane.

I had this sudden burning desire for him to suffer. I shouldn’t be here breaking. He should be.

Zane Eastwood should be afraid.

Not me.

I’d been afraid enough.

My lips became angry.
I didn’t ask for that!
I bit Dylan’s lip so hard he growled, kissing me back so roughly I wondered if he was angry about something too.
I didn’t know there was something in my beer!
I never had beer. I’d never drink it again.
I went upstairs for Jona!
If I’d known Zane wanted me up there to hurt me, I wouldn’t have gone.
I wore a skirt to fit in with the wolves!
Women should be able to show off their bodies without fearing pain.
I went to that party to protect my friend.
I didn’t want friends anymore, not if they were going to hurt me. I yanked on Dylan’s hair, settling on his lap. Anger burned in my blood. Friends weren’t worth it. Dads weren’t worth it. Mom’s lied. Men hurt. They kissed you and protected you and then pushed you away. Pain hurt.

But when our lips separated and I stood on my own two feet I was propelled, forced to be myself, to endure the terror I’d faced.

The separation between those two girls scared me. With Dylan, I saw it right. By myself, my perception was too altered to maintain a proper sense of truth. Fear made you think unclearly. What would I do when he managed to push me away, and he went on with his life? Which Hillary would win?

The one who knew she’d made a mistake or the one who blamed her for the other’s pain?

The realization that he may be right slammed into me.

How could I ever get better when the only way I saw was to blame myself?

But choosing Dylan felt so right. Having him settled the fear. It made it okay to be afraid. Was being okay feeling afraid right? Or was it better to be terrified and know who I was?

I didn’t know what to do. Confusion interweaved until I couldn’t remember what I knew was right and what I wanted.

A deep male voice sounded from somewhere inside of the house. Bach pushed the bedroom door open, staring at the both of us like we were doing something wrong. “What’s going on?” His accusation was thick in the air, making me think despite his refusal to tell me who to be with, he’d still tell me what to do. He was dressed for work in a black suit. His hair was combed and his spicy cologne traveled in after him. “D?”

“Take her home.”

The moment his words left his mouth I had my answer. It was a new choice altogether. I wanted to know who I was around this man. I wanted to feel safe inside of myself, because I felt safe around him first. The two went together. Being safe preceded my sadness.

“I’m not going anywhere.” I moved around Bach and sat on the bed, grabbing hold of Dylan’s arm. “Don’t listen to him, Bach. Go to work. We’re fine. Fine.”

But we weren’t fine. I wasn’t, and I feared Dylan hadn’t ever been. Nothing was fine.

Dylan groaned. “You know what I’m going to do to her,” he insisted. “We both know how this will end.”

I could barely breathe. “Whatever I wanted I thought. I want you.”

“No, you don’t, baby. You just want to feel better.”

“What do you want?”

He looked away. “Doesn’t matter.”

“You’re not making me feel better right now. You’re breaking my heart.”

“Bach.” Dylan tried to extract his arm, but my grip was too strong. For the first time in my life, I wanted something and did not care what anyone else thought about it. Dylan was my choice, and I would make it every single time. “Take her home.”

“Let’s give him time to think. You’re Mom’s been calling my phone all morning. You should go home.”

“Dylan and I will both go home.”

“No!” he snapped. “I’m staying here with my daughter. You’re going home. To your life. To your good. Go, baby.” He pulled free and refused to look at me.

Bach’s hand was around my wrist. He pulled gently. But I wasn’t in a gentle kind of mood. I yanked free and sat there, immobile, staring at the side of Dylan’s face. Something was different about him. What changed? I cast my mind. Dylan had been fine before his nightmare, before he revealed his ugly truths. Before my safe zone admitted that he felt so far from safe.

I looked at my brother. “Go to work.” When he opened his mouth, I cut him off. “I’ll call you later.” I smiled reassuringly.

But Bach had probably never been reassured either. He looked like he’d believe anyone but me. “You should go home. Maybe I’ll drop in for dinner tonight. I’m sure Patty would love that.”

They were ganging up on me, forcing me yet again to do something someone else decided. All I wanted was for someone to let me do it just once. Stand by me no matter what I chose. I wondered if Dylan had ever had that. Maybe he didn’t know how to give it to me.

“Bach.” I rose from my spot and shoved at his chest. “Go to work. Don’t worry about us.” Grabbing hold of his arm, I pulled with all my strength until he followed me out of the room. “Stop butting in.”

“I’m your brother. What am I supposed to do?” He forced us to a stop in the living room. “Let me take you home.”

“No. The only person I want right now is him.” And that he might not want me was a dark snarl whispered in the back of my thoughts.

“Your mom is losing her shit.”

“Well so am I! Just leave, Bach. Like you always do! Just like my dad. Just like Dylan wants to. You’re all selfish assholes. Like what do I have to do get one of you to love me? Be like you? Be mean and selfish? Do I have to be an asshole too?” I shoved him harder, losing my grip so fast I couldn’t be sure I’d ever regain it. “I should leave you all. I should leave everyone and just be by myself. I’ll never leave me. I’ll never hurt myself!”

For what it was worth he didn’t deny it. His eyes were grave as he stared at me. “You have responsibilities. I’m sorry they’re yours, but they are. If I could do it for you, I would. I’d make it so you never had to face Zane again, or anyone else. But hiding out here won’t make it easier on you. All of those things are waiting. You’re hiding, Sweets, we all are, but I keep getting this feeling that we can’t hide anymore.”

I fell against my brother. These tears weren’t because he was right. They were because I knew it. Home scared me. Everything I’d left was waiting for me. Zane, school, Mom, and the future she picked out. I wasn’t ready for these things. Around Dylan I had clung to the escape he offered, avoiding what I ran from. It might be time to stop running, to face the girl I left in Zane’s bedroom and stop blaming her—to protect her. I had to save that girl from her mistakes, or I might never free either of us.

I wanted to be free.

Most of all I wanted to free her.

“I’m scared.”

“That’s all right. I have things I’m scared of too. Things I probably always will. We just have to be stronger than it when it likes to tell us we’re not.” And then, “Dylan has to do the same thing. He’s never going to stop pushing you away. Trust me. Harley has to remind me every single day not to run.” He released me with a shake of his head. “Can I take you home?”

Panic attacked me. I wasn’t like Harley. I didn’t have any idea how to get what I wanted. I never had a boyfriend. I didn’t know how to handle men. I probably never would. Part of why I liked Dylan so much was because he knew what he wanted from me long before I let him have it. I’d never stopped and thought about what
I
wanted from a man and expected him to deliver. I could imagine how empowering that would be. Even considering it put a sense of calm through me. I would go home, but I would see Dylan again as well because that’s what
I
wanted.

“Yes. I’ll get Dylan’s crutches and then we can go.”

“Harley and I will be in the truck.” He bent to kiss my hair before shuffling off.

I gathered Dylan’s crutches and then returned to the room. His spark of relief was aimed at his crutches. Not me. “Thank you,” he mumbled.

“I care about you, Dylan.”

“Stop.”

“Just tell me. Do you want me to leave?”

He met my eyes in a flash. “Of course not. I never want you to leave. That’s why you have to go. Look at my daughter, Hillary. Did you hear the things she asked me? I can’t put that shit on you. I can’t even walk. How can I be the kind of man you want when I can’t even be one I want first?”

“I didn’t know I wanted a man until you.”

His face broke. He struggled to his feet, growling as he did so. “Go home.”

“I’m afraid that if I leave this house, we won’t see each other again.” I stepped toward him.

He moved away just as fast. “That’s what’s best for you.”

What did he dream?
He looked wild and afraid. I could almost smell his fear. “I have to see you again. I want to sit on your lap when I need to feel safe. You pull me out of the darkness every time. I rely on you.”

“Yeah well you shouldn’t have!” he snapped. “I never asked you too. I never told you to find me safe! I warned you. I told you over and over again to get away from me. I’m not safe. You attached yourself to me. Not the other way around. I never wanted you. Now look. Look at what I’m doing to you.” His anger dissipated into sadness. “Look at how you’re looking at me. Hillary.” He reached for me. “I’m sorry.”