Kept (28 page)

So this was the end. Here she sat, bruised and hurting, while Mark walked away.

“Don’t call me,” he repeated.

She ended the call. Silence was better than that.

Her ribs ached from holding back her grief, and she trudged to the kitchen for more ibuprofen. The mirror above the sink reflected an image she’d never seen. A scabbed lip, a soon-to-be black eye—no surprise there. But the rest of her, the part whole and unmarked, still seemed weary. Worn out. Almost—old?

He doesn’t care about her. He wants one thing.

Just like that, they were done with her. They’d used her up, and now they’d find someone younger, fresher. Someone willing to do what they wanted—until they tired of them and threw them away too.

She set the cup down and stared deep into her sink. Dillan’s words were prophetic, it seemed. He’d known what he was talking about, and she hadn’t listened, not really. His words had seemed so foolish, but they’d been true, and she’d ignored them.

What was she ignoring now? What words of wisdom had she laughed off? How would life be different if she’d listened?

Mark watched his screen fade. She’d hung up on him. Now it was too late to call her back, to make himself plain. Had she caught what he’d said? Had she understood at all?

His teammate Nick grabbed a glove from his locker. “You all right, man?”

“Yeah.” He had to convince Nick that it was really over. He forced himself out of his chair and set the phone in his locker. “Thanks for the advice.”

“Any time.”

A picture of him and Darcie sat beside the phone, the two of them smiling on a boat just off Maui’s shores. He couldn’t look at it and reached for an undershirt. Somehow he had to put all this behind him. For a while, anyway.

“Scheider.” Nick fiddled with the glove. “You did the right thing.”

He grunted. Didn’t feel right.

“You can go home to Darcie and know you’re not living a lie. It’ll get better. Trust me.”

Enough already. He yanked his shirt off, wincing at the pain in his shoulder, and flashed what he hoped was a sad smile. “You’re right. Thanks for being here while I called her. I appreciate it.”

More than he’d ever know.

The woman he’d kissed one week ago stood motionless at the edge of the fountain’s pavilion.

Dillan pulled up behind her, a dozen white seagulls cawing nearby, and wiped his forehead on his sleeve. Coming to Miska’s rescue yesterday had been one thing, but what about now? What was he supposed to do when they crossed paths?

Why was she even out here? She couldn’t be running. He tried to follow her gaze. Across Lake Shore Drive there was nothing but lake. What was she doing, looking at all that water?

She wasn’t thinking… was she?

He strolled her way, clearing his throat to announce his presence.

She glanced over her shoulder and smiled. Her bruised cheek looked worse.

He stopped beside her and shoved his hands into his pockets. “Morning.”

“Morning. How are you?”

He should have asked first. “All right. You?”

“I’m okay. Just enjoying the view, you know?”

“Yeah.” She wasn’t just saying that, was she?

Silence settled between them. Dillan gnawed on his lip. He couldn’t leave, as much as he wanted to. He needed to make sure she really was okay.

You need to deal with what you did to her.

He inhaled slowly, exhaled loudly. “Hey, I need to apologize.”

She faced him, her expression startled. “For what?”

“For the other day.” He swallowed. “When I kissed you. I—”

Chuckling, she turned away. “You’re apologizing for a kiss? I don’t think anyone’s ever done that.” She flashed him a smile. “Thank you.”

“Sure.”

“You remember that talk we had by the lake?”

“No.”

“When you said men like Mark were after one thing.”

Now he remembered.

“After yesterday I realized…” She searched his face. “You were right. You gave me good advice, the right advice really, and I ignored it.”

He studied his shoes. What was there to say? I told you so?

“How’s your cheek?”

“Hmm?” He looked up at her.

“Your cheek. You’ve got a bruise.”

Her finger breezed over the spot where Kendall had landed one decent punch. “I barely feel it. How about your ribs?”

“Okay. Don’t make me laugh, though.”

“Then what do we talk about? When our childhood pets died?”

She wrapped her arms across her rib cage. “I told you not to make me laugh.”

He raised his hands, a smile sneaking free. “Sorry.”

“No, you’re not. You’ve probably got jokes racing through your head.”

“Want to hear them?”

“Only if they’re groaners.”

“Oh. Well. I got nothin’ then.”

She chuckled and hissed in a breath. “Dillan,” she growled.

“You’re easily amused.”

She doubled over a little.

Oh. She wasn’t kidding. “You want to sit down? There are benches by the fountain.”

“Too far. Let’s sit here.” She eased onto the top step that led to street level.

Dillan sat beside her, a good two feet between them. Now what?

Her mouth twisted as if she wrestled with something. “I talked to Mark.”

Of course she had.

“I called him. I know it made me seem desperate, but I had to know if he’d done what Garrett said.”

“And?”

“He lied. He said he hadn’t had time to go back in, that he couldn’t make his hands work.”

Yep. He’d lied.

“You know what really makes me mad? That I
knew
he’d locked my door on his way out. It won’t lock on its own. So he purposely locked me in there with Kendall, made it so no one could help me.” She ground her fists against her thighs. “And I still begged him not to end it with me.”

So they were over. He stared at the water. She didn’t see it yet, but Mark ending the relationship was a good thing. An extremely good thing.

“He told me not to call him. No matter what. He wants time to think. If he wants to see me again—
if
he wants me—he’ll call, and I’m supposed to jump into his arms and pretend none of this ever happened.”

She was surprised by this?

Her lips trembled. “Things were supposed to be different here. Better. All the bad that happened in the suburbs, none of that was supposed to follow me—”

Her wail erupted without warning. She doubled over, hands over her face, her ponytail flopping over one shaking shoulder.

People walking by stared. Good grief,
he
was staring.

He slid a little closer, unsure what to do. She buried her face in his chest, and reluctantly he put an arm around her.

Her sobs rang out, her agony on display for everyone to see.

A middle-aged woman left the sidewalk and walked toward them, her gaze moving from Miska to Dillan and back.

Like she could help. He tried to stare her off, but she kept coming until she stood on the step beneath them.

“Is she okay?” the woman asked.

Clearly. “She’s fine.”

The woman held her ground.

All right then. He pretended appreciation for her concern. “She just found out that her, uh, pet… pig has… rabies.”

Against him Miska’s sobs shook into something else. She raised her tear-streaked face. “My what?”

“Your potbelly pig. You know.” He shrugged.

“Are you okay, honey?” the woman asked.

“No, but it’s not his fault. He’s helping.”

He was?

The woman pointed to her cheek. “He do that to you?”

Oh, great—

“No.” Miska straightened. “He’s the good guy, but he makes me laugh when my ribs hurt. Make him stop.”

The woman grinned at him. “Stop, honey.”

“Yes,
honey
.” Miska flicked his arm. “Stop it.”

His skin warmed. “I’m just sitting here.”

“Looks like you’re in good hands, sweetheart. You lose the other guy and keep this one.”

“Will do.”

His face burned. The woman walked back to some man who’d been smart enough to stay by the street, and Dillan rubbed his stubble-covered chin. “Well, that was… awkward.”

Miska laughed, sniffed, wiped her cheeks. “Ah, Dillan.” Another sniffle and hiccup escaped together. “How I wish I’d met you first.”

And now it was way, way past awkward. He looked away. “How I wish I could tell you a joke.”

Miska forced her laughter into a smile while Dillan gazed down the street, his cheeks pink. She longed to curl into him again and feel the weight of his arm around her. It was almost enough to make a girl fake-cry.

He leaned forward, elbows on his knees, and stared at the lake.

She memorized his profile—the dark hair that stood thick and nicely messy across his head, his angled jaw covered in stubble, his broad shoulders and long arms, the curve of his bicep, and the muscles that pulled beneath the skin of his forearm while his fingers fiddled with his cast.

His head swiveled, and his eyes connected with hers.

Heat flashed across her face. She jerked her gaze away.

Now why had she done that? Why not hold his gaze and let him know she was interested?

Because he’ll reject you.

Already had, actually.

His feet scuffed the ground, and she looked back to see him standing, one hand running over the top of his head in the gesture that meant he was embarrassed. He spoke to the fountain. “Think I’ll head in.”

Not yet. “What do you think about Tracy?”

He glanced down at her, his forehead lined. “Tracy?”

“I’ve always thought she was perfect for you.” Not really, but she couldn’t say she wanted him for herself. He’d avoid her completely.

“Not again, Miska.”

He helped her up, and they headed toward the fountain. “You don’t see the two of you together?”

“After she dated my brother? No.”

“You can’t hold their relationship against her. She’s the sweetest person ever.”

“Doesn’t mean she’s right for me.”

“Then who is, Dillan? Or are you waiting for perfection? Because she ain’t out there.”

He stopped and looked down at her. Cocked his head. “Don’t think I’ve ever heard you say ‘ain’t.’” He held the back of his fingers against her forehead. “You okay?”

She smacked his hand away. “Stop it. What’s the matter with you that you can’t find a woman?”

The sound he made was a cross between a huff and a laugh. “What’s it matter to you?”

Just say it.
She swallowed and looked past his shoulder. “I don’t know.”

“You starting a matchmaking business or something?”

Yes. You and me.
She looked into his eyes, those brown eyes that made her feel like she actually mattered. “You and Tracy believe the same.”

“There’s more to it than that.”

“Like?”

“I don’t know.” He turned toward their building, his pace slow.

“So what are you waiting for?”

“For God to bring the right woman.”

“Define
right.
A woman who believes like you do? A woman who’s waited?”

“Sure.”

“Then where does that leave me?”

“What?” He stared at her, eyes wide.

“What about women who didn’t grow up believing like you, who’ve done things they regret? They’re not good enough now?”

“If you’re talking about Tracy, I wouldn’t hold something in high school against her.”

High school mistakes—sure, those were the years where everyone was stupid. So that was forgivable. But now that they were adults and should know better… She fought the urge to tell him off. “Good to know.”

He stopped again, fingers splayed on his hips. “I’m sorry,” he said, his voice conveying how clearly
not
sorry he was. “Am I missing something here?”

“No.” He would laugh if he knew how much she thought of him—laugh, or grimace in disgust. She couldn’t handle either. “I’m going in.”

“What a coincidence. Me too.”

His sarcasm wasn’t funny. As they walked, she kept her head down, but from her peripheral vision she caught the glance he sent her.

All she’d wanted this morning was to hide, to fade into the park where he wouldn’t notice her, wouldn’t make her long for him. She tugged her hair out of the ponytail and shook it, letting it cover her. Hadn’t she been just fine enjoying the waves before he came over? Before he—wait, why
did
he interrupt her? She grabbed his arm, hauling him to a stop. “Why did you come talk to me?”

He sent her another confused look. “What?”

“I was fine all by myself this morning. You’re the one who came to me.”

“Umm, you were the one who smiled at me. Can’t walk away from that. That’s rude.”

“Who suggested we sit and talk?”

He laughed and held his hands out. “What is this?”

His incredulous smile ticked her off. “Why were you watching me, Dillan? For real?”

“For real? You want real? Okay.” He looked at the fountain, then back at her. “Because I wondered if you were thinking about killing yourself in the lake.”

She sucked in her breath.

“Are we good now?”

“I was admiring the view. You ever do that? Watch nature because it’s beautiful?”

He looked over her head. Shook his own. “My bad for being concerned. Next time I think you might be contemplating suicide, I’ll keep walking.”

“You think my life’s so bad that I’d kill myself? Over Kendall? Over Mark?”

“I didn’t know, Miska. Sheesh. Clearly I don’t know you very well.”

“No, you don’t.” She shook her finger at him, furious at all the signals he’d missed, furious that he’d only spent time with her because he feared for her life. “You are so stinkin’ clueless.”

“Agreed. ’Cause I have no idea what this is about.”

“You idiot.” She half-stomped, half-limped away. No, she wasn’t done with him. She stomped-limped back, her finger in his face again. “Ever since I’ve known you, Dillan, you’ve intrigued me. More than any man I’ve ever met.”

“Uh—”

“Don’t interrupt. I’m not done.”

He raised his eyebrows, lips pressed together.

“Did you even have a clue of the crush I’ve had on you? You made me wish I believed like you did, just so I’d have a chance with you.”