Better (Stark Ink Book 2) (8 page)

Dalton managed to get the plant to the house in one piece, at least, though the looks on Ava’s and Zoey’s faces told him he maybe should have just kept on driving. It was clear that things were tense between the two of them. He regretted having to put Ava in this position in the first place. He gave his younger sister and apologetic look as he set the Poinsettia down on the dining table as a centerpiece.

“Sorry,” he told them both. “Didn’t realize I’d been gone so long.”

Zoey stared at him as he took off his coat and draped it over the back of one of the chairs. She plucked the card off the flowerpot and read it. “You were at church?”

Dalton nodded. “I got this after the service. I thought you might like it.” When he looked back, Zoey was eyeing him warily. It was the same look she used to give him all those months ago.

“Dalton, church was over an hour ago,” she pointed out. She looked hurt and he was both surprised and concerned by it. He hadn’t meant for it to be that way at all. Back when they were dating, he’d stay out longer than he meant to, tying one on. When she’d ask him how much he’d had to drink, he would always halve the actual amount when he told her. It had been a terrible thing to do and he felt equally terrible inadvertently reminding her of it now.

He shook his head. “No, I’m sorry. I wasn’t at church. I didn’t mean for you to think that I was. You were asleep. “So, I didn’t say anything to you. I was at church, this whole time. I just… wasn’t there for the service.”

Zoey frowned. “I don’t understand. Then why were you there?”

“I’m sorry,” Ava told him. She looked guilty as hell. “I didn’t know what to say, so I didn’t tell her anything.”

“It’s fine,” he told her. “Everything’s fine.”

“What’s going on?” Zoey asked. “Where were you?”

Dalton sighed and reached into his pocket. He crossed the room, took hold of Zoey’s hand, and pressed the coin into her palm. She took it from him and frowned down at it. He waited for her to read the inscription. He already had the serenity prayer memorized at this point.

“Five months sober,” he told her. “Well, technically longer, but it took me a while to work up the balls to go to my first meeting.”

“You’re… you’re in a program?”

“Yeah. I mean, I didn’t go voluntarily,” he told her because it felt more important to be honest than make himself look good. “Not at first. Adam dragged me to rehab and they threw me in a cell, well, it felt like a cell, anyway. They can only hold you if you’re actually drunk. Once I dried out and looked around, I decided to stay.”

She looked up at him, eyes rimmed with tears. “You finally went.”

Dalton hung his head, feeling ashamed. Rehab was the only thing Zoey had ever really pushed him on. But he hadn’t wanted to hear it at the time.

“I wasn’t ready,” he told her. “I wasn’t ready when Adam took me there, either. But once I cleared my head, I realized you were really, truly gone. And that’s how I knew I’d gone as low as I could possibly go. They… when you go to AA they have you make a list of all the people you screwed over when you were boozing. You’re supposed to visit them, tell them you’re sorry, make it up to them. Zoey, I put you on that list so many times and every single time I’d scratch you off. You’re only supposed to make Amends if it would make things better for them. If seeing you again would hurt them more, then you leave them alone.”

He sighed and rubbed the back of his neck. “You were engaged. I thought you were happy. I thought seeing me or hearing from me would only upset you and I didn’t want that. Goddamn it, Zoey, I thought you were okay! If I’d known the truth, if I’d had the balls to come and see you, I would’ve realized what was going on. This wouldn’t have happened to you! I’d have gotten you the hell out of there.”

He blew out a sharp breath. “This is my fault,” he decided. “I let this happen to you. I let him hurt you. I cheated on you and he beat you and you deserve so much better than either one of us.”

She pulled away and shook her head. “My marriage has nothing to do with you. It’s not your fault, Dalton. Honestly. But…” Her lower lip trembled. “Listen, if my being here is going to hurt your recovery, if it’ll set you back in any way, then I’ll go. I’ll go right now. To my parents, or a hotel, anywhere. It doesn’t matter. I’ll be okay. It’s more important that you’re okay.”

He shook his head vehemently. “I’m fine, Zoey. I’m doing fine.”

“But Dalton, you were… sick… for so long. I prayed so hard for you to get better. If-”

Dalton grabbed her hand. “Zoey, listen to me. I’ll be okay. I swear it. You can believe me, but I’m not asking you to trust me, okay? I wouldn’t do that. You don’t have to. I’ll do anything you need to make you feel safe.”

“I’m sorry,” she told him. “I don’t know. We’re not…”

They weren’t together. He wasn’t obligated to her. He owed her no explanations, he supposed. But they were still friends, or at least he’d like to think so. “It’s okay,” he said gently. “I get it. I hurt you; he hurt you. That does things to your sense of faith in people. You’ll get it back, though. Don’t worry.”

“Is there anything I can do?”

He shook his head and squeezed her hand. “No. I got this.”

She considered his words for so long Dalton got lightheaded. He’d forgotten to breathe. Finally she stepped forward and he pulled her into a hug. He held her against him and suddenly her stomach growled loudly. Despite her tears, Zoey laughed. Dalton grinned down at her. “Well, one of you is clearly hungry.”

She pulled away from him. “I can make us something.”

He shook his head. “Why bother? It’s Sunday. Chinese for three?”

She smiled. “You know that’s not actually a thing, right? You’re not eating for two when you’re pregnant.”

Dalton eyed her suspiciously. “Well, I meant Ava, actually. But are you sure about that, Z? Cause I’m looking at your boobs right now and-”

“Oh, you!” She slapped his arm. It hurt a little and Dalton was glad for it. She still had an arm and a sense of humor and, unfortunately, she needed both right now.

He caught her in a bear hug and held her close. “I’m kidding!” he told her. “I’m just kidding… sort of.”

“Oh!” Zoey wiggled out of his grip and glared at him. He grinned back at her.

“You look great, Zoey,” he said, suddenly serious. “You really do.”

Zoey paused and tugged at her hair self-consciously as she looked up at him.

A long moment of silence hung in between them.

“Where’s your menu?” Ava asked, cutting the tension.

Dalton glanced at her. “It’s-”

“In the drawer by the fridge,” Zoey finished.

He raised an eyebrow at her. “Did some snooping?”

Zoey pressed her lips together and her hands to her belly. She didn’t answer.

“You can look anywhere, Zoey,” he told her. “I don’t have anything to hide. There’s no booze here. Not even mouthwash.”

“His breath probably stinks,” Ava chimed in happily.

“Maybe,” said Zoey and Dalton realized she was looking at his mouth.

He felt a familiar warmth rising in all the wrong places. “I’m going to water the plant,” he muttered as he opened a cabinet.

Ava leaned in and whispered, “Is that what we’re calling it?”

Dalton finished up the dishes while Zoey showered. He figured he could stand at the counter awkwardly waiting for her to return, but it seemed like they’d had enough conversation for one day. He left the kitchen and headed not to the front door, but to the garage door. Inside the large utilitarian space, he flipped on the heater and the overhead lights.

His current project sat on a piece of cardboard, draped with a sheet. He tugged it off and surveyed it carefully, knowing exactly what it needed. Building something was a process like any other, one step at a time until it was done. He picked up a piece of sandpaper, medium grit, and picked up where he’d left off. Despite his injury, he still preferred building by hand. He ran it slowly over one of the legs and let his mind drift. Mentally, he laid out the entire process before him. With measured patience and skill, he would smooth its entire surface. He’d strip it all down— bare— opening it up so it was able to take staining. Then, with a soft cloth, he’d rub the chosen stain it into every surface, pushing his fingers into every groove until the color turned warm, rich, and dark. With a stiff brush he’d paint a topcoat and let it dry until it was glossy and gleamed to perfection. In the end, he’d have something that was completely his and his alone.

“What is it?”

He glanced behind him, surprised that he hadn’t heard the door. “It’s a coffee table,” he told her. “Or it will be.”

She crossed the cement floor and looked around the garage. “You’re still doing this?”

He shrugged. “More or less.”

Dalton was still more than capable of creating beautiful things, but it took longer these days and it would never be a source of income the way he’d wanted it to be before the accident.

“I’m glad,” she told him. “The dining room table is beautiful.”

He’d known how much she’d loved it when he’d first revealed it to her, but it still made him happy to hear her say it out loud.

She cleared her throat. “Are… you going to be in here all night?”

He paused, sandpaper in hand. “No,” he replied. “I mean, I guess I don’t have to. Why? Do you need me to go-”

“I thought we could watch a movie,” she said. “I’m not tired, yet. Well, not too tired. And I thought-”

“Yeah. Yeah, that’s fine. Give me a minute to cover this up and I’ll be in.”

She nodded and smiled. “Okay.”

Dalton threw a sheet over the table and turned off the light. The light was off in the living room, but Zoey had left the kitchen light on behind them. Cozy, but not too much.

He washed his hands in the sink while she picked the flick. He didn’t much care what they watched, which turned out to be a good thing because she chose a romantic comedy that he would have groaned about in his earlier days. Now it was just enough to sit with her. She smiled and laughed along with the gags and was happy for the first time since he’d seen her again. It was good, he thought. She needed a break. Things didn’t get awkward until the obligatory sex scene, which Zoey clearly hadn’t considered when she’d made her choice.

She fumbled with the remote, unable to accomplish much. He took it from her and hit mute. They sat in silence for a moment as people infinitely happier than they had probably ever been were enjoying themselves onscreen.

“Why’d you do it?” she asked suddenly.

Dalton’s thumb hovered over the remote control before he finally pressed the OFF button. He probably wouldn’t have picked this time to talk about it, but the more time he spent with her, the more time he
wanted
to spend with her and the more he wanted to
enjoy
that time because he knew it wouldn’t last forever. Bringing up old hurt was the last thing he wanted to do, but she’d asked and so that meant she was ready to hear it.

“Because you wouldn’t leave.”

“You’re not supposed to leave, Dalton! For better or worse, you’re supposed to stick it out!” she argued.

“We weren’t married, Zoey,” he reminded her gently. “I thought your parents were wrong. I thought I could provide a good life for you, or at least a good enough life, anyway, as long as I could work hard to do it. After the accident, I could see it coming, everything they were afraid of happening,. I couldn’t even build you a home after that. I couldn’t even provide the single most basic thing a man is supposed to. But you were there every day, making sure I went to physical therapy, making sure the bills got paid. Didn’t seem fair to you. And no matter how many times I told you to go…”

“I loved you.”

“I… loved you, too,” he said lamely.

“Then how could you do it?”

He grimaced. “I wasn’t exactly in my right mind.” The truth was he’d been hammered. He was actually surprised that he could get it up that night. They’d been at a party, but he’d started his partying long before they’d even left the apartment. He remembered blonde hair, too much perfume, and red lipstick. She’d cornered him after he came out of the bathroom, but instead of brushing her off they’d found an empty bedroom. And Zoey’d found
them,
as he knew she would.

In his mind, it was best. Zoey would leave and he wouldn’t have to feel guilty or inadequate every time he looked at her. Zoey had walked in and he’d kept pounding away. He hadn’t nutted in the blonde so much as passed out on top of her after his mission was accomplished. Neither woman had been very happy with him.

The next day Zoey had moved out, freeing Dalton for the seemingly noble and seductive new career choice of drinking himself to death. Though he’d never actually said it out loud, or even really acknowledged it to himself, underneath the haze of cheap beer and expensive liquor, he knew he wouldn’t live forever that way and he’d been strangely okay with that.

Until Mom died.

Then Dalton saw the immediate effect of a death in the family. Adam had been torn up. Ava hadn’t been able to stop crying. Hell, even Jonah, as distant and disconnected as he’d always been, had felt her loss. Would he put them through losing him, too? But by then it was too late, wasn’t it? They didn’t deserve to watch him slowly die, but they deserved a better man for a brother, anyway. It was a catch-22 he couldn’t find his way out of. So Dalton did what Dalton used to excel at, ignoring the problem until it either fixed itself or someone else handled it. In his mind, cheating on Zoey had been the one halfway decent thing he’d ever done, taking the bull by the horns instead of waiting it out.

“I was so messed up, Zoey. I thought I was saving you. I wasn’t though, was I? I was pushing you away, into something worse.” He reached out and brushed his thumb across her bruise, a light touch, one that wouldn’t cause her any more pain. “But I never hit you, did I? No amount of twisted, boozed-up logic would ever get me to do that. I just can’t understand it, hitting the woman you love. Hitting your
wife
.”

He took hold of her hand and ran his thumb over the unadorned finger.

“I took them off months ago. The swelling.” She laughed. “Kind of fitting, the baby broke up our marriage.”

“You never had a marriage, Zoey. Yeah, it’s For Better or Worse, but it’s also Love, Honor, and Cherish and he didn’t do any of those things.”

She looked away. “Neither did I.”

“Oh, bullshit. I know you, Zoey. You’re a good woman. You went into that marriage with good intentions and I know-”

“I didn’t love him. Not really. Not with my whole heart. Because I was still in love with you.”

Dalton swallowed hard. He didn’t want to ask, not really, but he still had to know. “Was?” he asked quietly.

Zoey held his gaze. He held his breath. She didn’t answer.

Their lips found each other like they’d never forgotten the way, which made sense to Dalton and felt so right despite the circumstances. Not only was Zoey here with him in his home, but Zoey
was
home. She was everything he’d found, lost, and caught sight of one final time before being pulled under completely, like a man drowning just a few feet off shore.

She pulled at him frantically, digging into his arms, trying to bring him closer. Dalton forced her mouth open wider with his tongue, unable to pace himself or hold back anymore. But it was wrong, he knew it, and maybe he was pushing her too far, too fast. He broke off the kiss but was unable to move away. His hands remained in her hair and they were both struggling for breath.

“Zoey-”

“I need you,” she whispered.

“I know. God, I know. I need you too, so much. I’m not going to leave you. I’m going to help you through-”

“No,” she said. “Dalton… I
need
you.”