see you too, Tim. All of you," he said, letting go of Kitty to shake the other man's hand.
Though Dylan still couldn't bring himself to look directly at the children, on some level he was glad. Yes, seeing them ripped the scab off the old wound, but knowing that they were growing, thriving, lessened a little of the damage.
He swallowed. "Kitty and I were just leaving." His gaze swept past the kids and he found Tony's face. "Say good-bye and thank you to Sylvia for us."
"Dylan - " Kitty and Tony spoke in unison, but Dylan was already skirting the groups in the backyard, heading in the direction of a side gate.
Kitty trotted to catch up with him, but he didn't slow his pace until they were alone on the dark driveway. Then he leaned against Kitty's car, sucking in long, unsteady breaths while she unlocked the doors. She hesitated before climbing in on the driver's side. "Dylan..."
"Take me to your house, Kitty," he said. Take me away. He needed to detach, to forget, to find solace somewhere. To find it in her body.
It was as if she read his mind. When they returned to her house, she led him into the bedroom and then initiated a tender lovemaking. But that role was too passive for him, the sex too soft to deaden his memory.
He took over.
To the slamming beat of his heart, his hands were urgent and hard on her body. Arousal inflamed his blood and his mouth was desperate, on her neck, on her breasts, between her legs.
She moaned and writhed and he could feel her passion escalating, he could taste it on his tongue, and his cock surged. Everywhere was heat, burning heat, and that scent of roses. When he plunged inside her, he shuddered, then plunged again, taking her body on a joyride that he hoped like hell would cauterize both their wounds.
His fingers dug into her hips and she cried out his name. But he didn't stop, he didn't slow, he just pushed the pleasure higher and higher until she screamed and he shuddered, pumped, and came.
And then came to discover that the memories, the pain, they were all still there, waiting for him. He laid his head against her breasts, so damn tired.
"Are you all right?" Kitty whispered. Her hand came up to stroke his hair.
"I should be asking you that," he said, squeezing his eyes tightly shut.
"I asked you first."
He told himself to move away from her. To move off her body, to leave her house, to disconnect from her. But he was so fucking tired. "No," he said finally. "I'm not all right."
"The children."
Kitty's heart beat against his cheek. "I should have said something to them, I know," he said.
Her hand stroked his hair again, but she didn't answer. She didn't prompt him or press him, and in the silence his memories welled up, one after another, until he had to speak of them.
"I was out for a ride on my motorcycle. As I came over a rise, I saw Alicia's car on the shoulder of the road. I saw that cowardly little prick pointing the gun in the driver's side window."
Kitty's heart beat steadily against his skin and he focused on its calming rhythm. "I gunned the bike, almost flying along the asphalt, going so fast I didn't see when he noticed me speeding toward them. But by the time I braked the bike nearby, he had Alicia out of the driver's seat and standing on the road. For a minute I thought it was going to be okay, so I started to back away. I thought he'd jump in her car and take off, and Alicia and I would go to town and notify the sheriff. But then she yelled to me that the kids were inside - Micah, Dani, and Willa. She screamed for me to get them out of the car.
"I ran to the passenger door and opened it. They were so scared - hysterical with fear - and so damn little, Kitty. They wanted their mom and they wanted Alicia and there was that gun. As I was getting the little ones out of the car seats, he started dragging Alicia toward the woods. When I looked up, the two of them had vanished."
Dylan sat up and turned his back to Kitty, trying to resist the weight of the next memory. "I ran the kids a distance away and yelled that he could take the car now.