During Thursday’s session, I started to explain my inner conflict about Ibby and Milly. Apparently Parker wasn’t ready for me to go there yet, because he steered me away from Isabella and into answering questions about Adam and my guilt. Coming to terms with the fact I hadn’t just killed my dad, but I had killed Adam’s too, was excruciating. By the end of the session, Parker convinced me the only way I was going to get past my feelings of guilt was to talk to Adam about it. He felt as if a couple of group sessions would do us some good. In the car on the way to Dragonfly, I gave in and called Adam. It was the first time we had talked since Charleston. I expected him to be pissed and was surprised when he wasn’t. I was equally surprised when he jumped at the idea of coming to Charlotte. By the time we hung up, we’d made plans for him to arrive on Sunday afternoon.
That evening Kurt called to inform me Isabella had just been in his office. He screwed up and forgot to call and tell her she had been taken off the weekly schedule and she was livid. When he told me she had threatened to quit if he didn’t let her play Saturday night, I couldn’t help but smile.
That’s my girl.
Of all the days since I’d walked out on Ibby, Friday was the worst. I woke up in a foul mood because I wanted Isabella. It had been over four days since I’d seen her, but it felt like years. Ibby had no idea I’d found excuses to stop by the house and see Milly this past week. Sarah and Sally were onto me but I didn’t care. Every time I appeared, they would pretend to have shit to do. Then they would ask if I minded hanging out with Milly for a bit while they ran errands. No matter what, they always left me with a list of what Isabella or Milly needed done around the house. I was happy to help out. However, the best part was getting to spend time with my baby girl.
The more I tried to push Isabella from my thoughts, the more she invaded them.
My fucking gorgeous girl. A
fter Charleston I made it one week before finagling a way back into the bed with her. The dreams had been brutal. For some reason, when she was lying next to me, they stayed away. I convinced myself if I didn’t touch her, it would be okay.
Bullshit
. All I could think about was touching her. In fact, I wanted her so desperately that, like a dumb ass, I drank half a bottle of bourbon with Kurt and Harry after work Sunday night. I thought it would dull the ache in my chest as well as my pants. It didn’t. If anything, it only made it worse. Harry gave me a lift home and the second I entered our room and smelled her perfume,
flowers and citrus
, my dick shot to the ceiling. No more excuses, I had to have her. I don’t remember much about that night, but the one thing I do remember is how good it felt to bury myself deep inside her. Without a doubt, she and Amelia were all I needed in this world. I knew they were it for me.
I also knew they were better off without me
.
Friday’s session with Parker was rough. We discussed the calm before the storm and what the year and a half before Mom died was really about.
“At one point in our talks, you claimed the time right before your mom died was the happiest you’d ever seen her. Looking back now with adult eyes, do you think she was truly happy, Dillon?”
I’d been doing a lot of thinking about my parents over the past week. When I couldn’t sleep, I would lie in bed and think back. The only time I stopped my thoughts was when they took me to that night. I had been forced to go there with Parker time and again and wasn’t eager to return there on my own. As I reflected on Parker’s question, I realized something. My parents were rarely in a room alone together. Mom was always decorating or on the phone, while Dad watched sports, played outside with us or was away for his job. They didn’t go out together unless it was to a work or school function and then they always came home early. When I was anywhere near Isabella, my fingers twitched to touch her. I couldn’t wait to get her alone. I wracked my brain, trying to remember if I’d ever seen my parents kiss and couldn’t. I shared all of this with Parker.
“I remember walking past the guest bedroom time and time again and seeing the bed unmade. I always wondered who had spent the night and why I never saw them leave,” I told him.
“Did you ever ask?”
“No.”
“Why not?”
“I don’t know,” I shrugged.
“Do you think it is normal for a twelve year old boy to feel responsible for his parent’s happiness? Would you want your twelve year old son or daughter to feel responsible for your happiness?” The thought of Milly having to worry about me the way I had worried about my mother made me sick to my stomach. “I can see from your expression the answer is no. I need you to do something for me. I need you to stop connecting your mother’s unhappiness with your past actions, Dillon. She wasn’t unhappy because of anything you or Adam did or didn’t do. And, even though she laid all of her problems at your father’s feet, her unhappiness wasn’t about him either. It was about her. Your mother was unhappy with herself and the only person who had even a remote shot in changing this…was her. The sooner you realize and accept this, the better off you will be.”
Parker’s words dredged up a wealth of unanswered questions.
Did I feel responsible for my mother’s happiness? Maybe I did.
His words stayed with me long after I walked out of his office.
Your mother was unhappy with herself. Not you. Not Adam. Not your father.
Instead of driving to Dragonfly or back to Piper’s, I drove straight to MMG. I needed to get drunk and I knew just the guys to do it with. When I walked in, Max was busy restoring an old Corvette, while Gage was building a custom bike. Max took one look at me and knew I was in a world of hate.
“I’ll be done in thirty. I just bought an eighteen year old single malt and it has your name written all over it. It’s in the bar. Save some for me,” he instructed.
I passed Gage on the way to the bar and he gave me his customary chin lift. “I’ll catch up with you two as soon as I get this engine built,” he told me.
Pulling out three tumblers, I set them on the bar and poured each of us a glass. Snagging mine, I made my way out to the back patio and stared up at the sky. I thought back on my day. Then I thought about my session with Parker and Adam on Monday and how I dreaded it.
Max appeared outside with his glass a half hour later. “Wanna talk about it?”
“I am all kinds of fucked in the head. I wouldn’t even know where to begin,” I told him.
He tapped his glass against mine. “You aren’t the only one fucked in the head, brother. Trust me.” This surprised me. I thought Max and Ellie were doing well.
A few minutes later, Gage joined us.
The second we all relaxed into our drinks, Max started laughing. “Women are so much trouble, but they are so damn worth it.”
Before I knew it, the bottle was gone and the three of us had a nice buzz. That’s when Gage decided to break out more Scotch and Max cranked on the music. The last thing I remember was singing old Willie Nelson and Johnny Cash tunes with Max before face planting on one of the spare beds upstairs.
This brought me to tonight and Isabella. The house was full. Kurt told me last week he might have to hire a bouncer for Saturday nights if she continued to pack it in this way. As I stood on the sidelines and watched my woman work the hell out of the guitar, I couldn’t help but be proud of her. Her rendition of
Soma
was so damn good it made my chest ache. I couldn’t take my eyes off her as she strutted across the stage and shook her sexy ass all over the place.
Neither could the guys in the front row.
Tendrils of hair spilled from a fancy looking bun, which left her shoulders and arms bare. Way too much skin was on display and it bothered me….really bothered me. I began searching for something to cover her with but all I could see was the rug. Somehow I didn’t think she’d appreciate me throwing the decorative rug over her shoulders right before I picked her up and hauled her off the stage. Her choice in music let me know how pissed off she was, and the raw pain in her voice told me how deep the hurt went. Still, she was absolutely mesmerizing. As she headed back to the stool, I could see tears glistening in her eyes and, once again the doubts took over.
What am I doing? I love her. Why am I hurting her this way?
Because she deserves better.
Thoughts of wanting her, but not allowing myself to have her warred within me and, no matter what I did, I could not calm them. By the end of set two, I was ready to get down on my knees and beg for her forgiveness, especially when she sang
Glitter In The Air.
The raspy, sexy sound of her voice, paired with her pain was too much. Then she finished the song and immediately bolted from the stage.
Shit! Where did she go?
Fuck it.
All I could think about was getting to her and making sure she was okay. Quickly, I slipped down the back stairs. There were only two places she could be, the bathroom or one of the two offices. As I rounded the hallway to the offices I stopped short when I spotted Cas.
What the hell?
I watched Cas slither into Kurt’s office.
That
fucking snake!
I was three seconds away from barging in and ripping him a new asshole when I heard Ibby crying…
because of me.
Lashing out, I slammed my fist into the wall beside the door. It hurt like a motherfucker, but it made me feel marginally better. I stood at the door feeling hopeless and shredded as listened to the woman I love cry to another man…
. I should be the one comforting her
. After what seemed like forever, I heard footsteps heading down the hall and decided I’d had enough.
If she wanted Cas, she should have him.
The thought of someone else with Isabella made me want to hurl, to fuck shit up. Once again, I drove back to Pi’s place. She and Gage were out, but they’d left a brand new bottle of bourbon sitting on the bar. Pouring myself a stiff one, I grabbed an ice pack from the freezer and headed out to the deck where I proceeded to ice my hand and get nice and fucked up.
It’s a whole new world and I fucking hate it.
I woke Sunday morning in the upstairs guest room and wondered how in the hell I’d gotten there. I remembered drinking on the deck and Googling guitar notes for
Soma.
I printed them out and, as soon as I mastered it, proceeded to finish the entire bottle of bourbon. The last thing I remember was pissing in one of Piper’s planters because I was too drunk to make it inside.
A knock at the door had me flinching in pain.
“It’s open,” I announced.
The door opened and Piper’s strawberry head peered around the corner. “Are you okay?” Her eyes twinkled with humor and I almost threw the pillow at her.
“Quit shouting,” I grumbled.
A wicked smile appeared on her face. “I was actually whispering. Here, I’ll show you the difference. This is shouting!” she screamed. I threw my hands over my ears and moaned. “This is not,” she continued in a much quieter but still too loud voice.
“You’re an evil bitch.”
Letting out a way too loud snort, she plopped down beside me on the bed. “I am, but you already knew that.”
“How did I get to bed last night?”
“You passed out on the stairs. Gage kindly dragged you the rest of the way up,” she proudly said. The second the words were out of her mouth, I noticed a stinging sensation across my chest and stomach. I lifted my shirt to look and, sure enough, a nasty looking rug burn stretched from my upper chest to my belly button.
I gave her a dry, “Thanks.”
“Don’t mention it,” she sarcastically responded. I would have smiled at her, but it hurt to move any part of my body. “Anyway, I wanted to check on you and to let you know that we are due at MMG in an hour. Garrett wants to meet with everyone.”
I sat up and my head spun. I fought back the urge to hurl. “Did he tell you what the meeting is about?” I asked, as soon as the room righted again.
“No, and I’m miffed because he told Gage specifically not to bring me. Screw that! I’m going anyway. I’ll hang out with Ellie in the kitchen if I have to.” I gave her a stern look and she responded with a middle finger. “I don’t know why everybody keeps treating me like I’m broken, because I’m not!” she snapped.
Reaching over, I laced my fingers through hers. “You could have died that day, Piper. We waited for hours and when we finally found you, it was bad. You have to allow time for it to fade.”
“I’m not trying to be insensitive. I know it sounds like I am, but I’m not. I’m just ready to move on. I’m ready for the next phase of my life. I need to put what happened behind me. In order to do that, I need everyone else to stop dwelling and do the same.”
“It will happen. I promise. Just give it a little more time.”
“I heard Isabella sang at Dragonfly last night,” she said, changing the subject. When I didn’t respond, she continued. “I heard it was… not her usual performance.”
“No, it was not.”
Her eyes cut to mine and widened in surprise. “You were there?”
“I wanted to make sure Dana wasn’t going to show up and give her more shit,” I explained.
“I heard about that. Dana is out of control, Dillon. I told you she had serious psycho tendencies, but did you listen to me? Noooooooo.”
“Yeah, yeah, whatever,” I mumbled, blowing her off. A silent minute passed and I took the time to gather my thoughts. “Fuck, Pi, Ibby is so angry and hurt. Last night was one of the worst fucking nights of my life,” I confessed.
“Oh, D,” she sighed. “Are you having regrets?”
“Only every second of every day,” I admitted. She started to say something, but didn’t. “Say it,” I told her.
“I called to invite Isabella to my bachelorette party next weekend.”
“And?”
“She wanted to know if you’d told me why you left.”
My stomach lurched. “What did you tell her?”
“I told her we had talked, but none of what was happening with you has anything to do with her. She’s confused, Dillon. She thinks you left because of something she did.”