And when I call you’re going to answer. It’s nonnegotiable.”
“Thank you,” I said.
For one long moment the attraction between us, the connection, the desire and all that lust, tied us together in a bond so strong I had no idea how we were going to break it. Maybe it couldn’t be broken. Perhaps for the rest of my life I would feel this way for this man I could not have.
Or maybe, in time, things could be different between us. I could stand up on my own two feet. Divorce Hoyt, see him punished for what he’d done, and then come back here to this mountain. To Dylan. I could pay him back the money I owed him.
I smiled through my tears, pierced by a bittersweet ache.
“There are things you still don’t know,” he said, as if he could read my thoughts. “About me. I’m still not a man to be building fantasies around.”
I shook my head, because there was nothing I could find out about him that would change how I felt. “It wouldn’t matter.”
“You can’t know that.”
“I know you,” I breathed, putting my hand out to touch him, but he shrugged away. Flinched. My heart squeezed at his rejection. My eyes burned.
“No, baby. No. If I touch you,” he said in a voice like a gravel road, “you won’t leave, not for a while. So I’m not going to hug you. Or kiss you. But I want to. Leave here knowing that. I want you.”
I’d never been wanted. Maybe somewhere deep in the recesses of my mother’s heart she’d wanted me, but Hoyt certainly never had. But I believed Dylan when he said that and I held onto his want as hard as I could.
“I want you too,” I said. He nodded once, giving a heavy jerk, and then he headed for the front door. “I’ll get Margaret.”
I knew when he walked out that door he wasn’t going to be back. And that was good. Better. Easier.
My stomach churned. Feeling like I might throw up, I ran into the bathroom. But there was nothing in my body but nerves and regret and half a bottle of champagne. I splashed water on my face and washed my hands. My body smelled like sex and Dylan and I wasn’t ready to wash that away, so I resisted the siren song of the shower.
When I came back out of the bathroom, Margaret was there. Putting all the food in big Ziploc bags. And then putting the Ziploc bags in another bag.
“You all right?” she asked, watching me with narrowed, knowing eyes.
I nodded; words were really beyond me.
“Ready?”
“Yes,” I breathed. She stuck two of the bottles of wine from the fridge into the bag and some other things. Strawberries. Melon. More cheese. “Here you go,” she said, holding the bag out to me. “You got some cookies and cinnamon rolls. Some of the wine. The good prosciutto. I gave you all the fruit—you’re going to want to eat that soon, before it goes bad. Some of that cheese and a bunch of crackers.”
“I don’t…That’s…”
“Oh, it will only go to waste here, honey. You just take it.”
“Margaret—”
“Please. He’s going to lock himself up in his garage and tell people he’s fine, when we can all see he’s not. He’s always been that way, hiding himself away when he’s hurt. It’s how we all ended up on this mountain.”
“Because of the accident?”
“He was hurt long before that. And he won’t let anyone take care of him. So, let me take care of you. Just a little. Just…so I can feel like I’m doing something.”
I was extraordinarily glad that Dylan had Margaret up here on this mountain with him. Someone who cared. I took the bag of food because I wasn’t sure if anyone down at that trailer park was going to care at all about me and I would take whatever care, comfort, and cinnamon rolls came my way.
I wanted to believe that Joan, Ben, and even to some extent Tiffany would care. But I had my doubts. Life was pretty threadbare down there and we all had our hands full.
So, I took the food.
And when I got in the car my phone buzzed and I read Dylan’s text message with the contact info attached.
This is the lawyer. His name is Terrance, he’s a good guy and he’s expecting your call. I am expecting you to call me if you need me. But I am also expecting that you are tough and strong enough