Taking the Heat (25 page)

He dropped his hands. His face fell.

“You need to go. We don't...we don't need to talk about this again, but please let me know how your dad is, okay? And tell Naomi I'm thinking of her, too.”

He watched her, his hands still open at his sides, as if he was pleading.

If he moved toward her again, she wouldn't have the will to say no. She didn't want to. This might be her very last chance to touch him, and she didn't have the strength to reject that chance.

But he didn't move closer. His hands turned slowly back in toward his body. He took a deep breath and closed his eyes as he exhaled. “I'll call you as soon as I can.”

She would've told him that wasn't necessary, but maybe he needed someone to talk to. She couldn't be so harsh when he was scared for his father. “Do you need a ride to the airport?”

“No. Monique will take us in my car.”

They stood in silence for a few seconds, tension drawing so tight between them she thought she might snap, but then he nodded and turned. “Goodbye,” he said. “I'm sorry.” And he was gone, shutting the door behind him before she could even respond.

She pressed her hand to her mouth, holding back a cry or a sob or some word she couldn't even anticipate.

She shouldn't have let him leave like that. Not with his father still in danger. “I'm sorry,” she whispered against her own skin. She wanted to chase after him and hold him and tell him everything was fine, that she was fine. But she felt stupid for even considering it.

This wasn't a movie, and he wasn't her boyfriend. They'd had sex a few times and they hadn't even pretended to be in love. It had been a hookup. Now it was over, and his mind was already back in New York, where he belonged.

Gabe had been an amazing lover. More than she'd ever hoped for. But it was over now, so she let him go. For good.

CHAPTER NINETEEN

T
HE
 
SHOW
 
WENT
 
well as far as Veronica could tell. She talked. People laughed and cheered. A martini was delivered but she just let it sit. She'd lost her taste for fun pink drinks. She had no idea what she was saying, but she wasn't the least bit scared this time.

She wrapped up the evening by offering a quick answer to one extra note, figuring she might as well take advantage of her sorrow-fueled bravery. “Yes, of course,” she started, “you should write thank-you notes. Everybody should still write thank-you notes, preferably on real paper! But here's the flip side of graciousness. If you want to be a gracious person, you don't get to be shitty about other people not writing thank-you notes. Sorry, but that's the way it works.”

Several people loudly disagreed, but most cheered. Veronica waved goodbye and promised to see everyone next week. Then she escaped to the office.

She didn't collapse into the chair with relief as she usually did. Instead she sank slowly down and stared at her hands, at a loss for what to do now. She'd have to see Dillon for that drink, but she still had ten minutes to waste. She could just stare at her phone.

Suddenly alarmed that she might have missed Gabe's call, she dug her phone out and checked, but no, there were no messages or texts or missed calls.

When a shadow fell over her, the stupid sudden thought that Gabe was back flashed through her mind, but she looked up to see Lauren. Of course. Lauren had said that she and Jake were coming, and Isabelle had joined them, as well.

“That was even better than the first night! Are you coming out?”

“Yeah, absolutely,” Veronica answered, trying to look cheerful.

“Hey, are you all right? Is it Gabe's dad? I know he's in the hospital.”

“I haven't heard anything yet. He said he'd get in touch when he could, but...” Everything else welled up, wanting to spill out of her mouth, but Veronica held it back. She couldn't hold back the tears, though.

“Oh, sweetie,” Lauren cooed, crouching down to wrap her arms around Veronica. “It's going to be okay.”

She nodded, because it would be okay. Gabe's dad would be fine. He had to be, because his family needed him.

And she'd be fine, too. Gabe had been her first lover, and it was over now, and she'd be fine. She should just be glad it hadn't gone on longer, because it would've hurt so much more.

But God...she'd wanted it to go on longer. It would all be okay, but it wasn't
fair
.

She nodded and moved away from Lauren. “I'll be out in a few minutes. I promised to have a drink with someone, but it should be over with quickly. Will you wait for me?”

“Absolutely.” Lauren pulled some tissues from her purse and handed them to Veronica. “I'll see you in a few.”

Back to feeling numb again, Veronica dabbed at her damp eyes and then got out her makeup bag.

She didn't want to see Dillon at all, but she refused to let him see her upset. She wasn't weak and scared anymore. She was brave and real and confident. There was nothing Dillon could say to make her small again. She was
above
him. Whatever she'd failed at in life, she'd never, ever been cruel.

Treating it as war paint, she darkened the liner around her eyes and glossed her lips with a shiny red that made her look as if she'd just snacked on some poor man's jugular. Fuck all of them.

She was glad she'd gotten good at wearing her clothes as a costume. Or maybe armor. Whichever it was, she felt protected from the world as she stood and opened the door. She was tall in her heels and cool as a winter wind in her midnight-blue sheath. Nothing could hurt her.

Dillon was seated in the front of the room, near the bar. She'd spotted him smiling at her during the show and then refused to look in his direction again. Now she stared dead into his eyes as she approached, letting her lip curl a little when his gaze swept down her legs. Apparently, he'd gotten over his aversion to her body.

“Veronica!” he called out, standing as she approached. He reached out as if he meant to give her a hug, but she stopped at the chair opposite his and sat down.

“Dillon. What can I do for you?”

He looked confused by the question as his hands fell back to his sides. Frowning, he took a seat. “I just wanted to see you again. Catch up a little.”

“Why?”

He sat back in his seat and studied her for a moment. “What can I get you to drink?”

“Ginger martini,” she said without hesitation. She suddenly knew what she wanted, and it was something with bite.

“Sounds interesting. I'll try it, too.” He raised a hand, and a server immediately appeared, as if his finger were a rich person's version of the Bat-Signal. “Two ginger martinis, please.”

At least he said
please
. She'd gone on a date with a guy in Manhattan who'd called every server
chief
and never once said
thank you
or
please
. Veronica had wondered if she could ever be attracted to a man in a suit after that, but she'd worked through it.

Dillon wasn't wearing a suit, but he was wearing jeans that looked very expensive and polished loafers with no socks. She missed Gabe and his beat-up trail shoes.

No, you don't
, her brain scolded.

“That was an amazing show,” Dillon said. “Even better than your columns, which are hard to beat.”

“Thank you.”

The server returned in record time with the drinks, and Veronica noticed that the woman didn't mention anything about the drinks being on the house. Veronica winked at her. Hopefully, Dillon was a big tipper.

When she took a sip of her drink, Dillon mirrored her. “Good,” he said. “Not too sweet.”

She nodded, enjoying the way the spice of it burned her throat. And ginger was good for the stomach, so maybe she could drink ten of them and suffer no ill consequences.

Dillon leaned back in his chair again, looking more relaxed now, as if buying the drinks had returned control back to him. “I wanted to catch up because I liked you in high school and I like you now.”

Well, that was to the point. He watched her as if he expected her to be aroused by his confidence, but she still felt icy cool. He was an investor. He was into the game. He wanted something and he'd go after it. Simple and efficient. An admirable business strategy, really, but she wasn't any of his business.

“You're interesting,” he said when she didn't respond.

“Dillon...” She twirled the stem of her glass in her fingers, watching the candied ginger at the bottom bounce off the glass. “Do you know why I liked you back then?”

He shook his head, his face a blur past the rim of her drink.

“Because you were the only one of Jason's friends who was ever nice to me.”

“Like I said, I liked you.”

“Right,” she murmured. “I thought you were sweet. That's why I let you kiss me. Touch my breasts. Put your hand down my pants.”

She finally looked up and saw that he'd lost a little of his confidence. He was frowning again.

“But you weren't sweet, were you?” Veronica asked.

The perfectly smooth skin of his cheeks turned a little pink. “Roni, I'm sorry about that. Jason was... I don't know. I guess I told myself it was just normal sibling-rivalry stuff.”

“He wasn't my sibling.”

“Right. Well, stepsibling, then. I don't know. He was my friend, and you were his little sister. I was embarrassed that he called me out on messing around with you. I didn't know what to say.”

“So you made fun of me,” she said.

“It wasn't like that. I was just making excuses. Trying to get him off my back.”

“Right. Off your back and right onto mine. He made my life a living hell for three years, Dillon. And instead of making things better, you made them worse. So I don't understand why you think I'd be interested in dating you now.”

“Because I've grown up,” he answered without hesitation. “We both have.”

She laughed. “The first thing you asked me about was Jason! Like he's still your hero. Like you still think it was excusable high school stuff. I was nobody before he moved to town, but he made me into
nothing
. Do you get the difference? He mocked me and bullied me and encouraged everyone else to do the same. Because if a girl is so low that even her own brother treats her like shit, she must be worthless, right?”

His cheeks weren't pink anymore. They'd gone pale. “Roni, I'm sorry. I honestly didn't know it was that bad for you. I was young and clueless.”

She nodded. He was right. She knew that. He was probably a lot nicer now, but he could never be her hero. She couldn't trust him with her body or her heart. She didn't even know why he'd ask such a thing. Boys were stupid, just as Gabe had said.

“Thank you for the apology. And the drink.” She'd barely touched it and she felt satisfied with that. “I know this wasn't what you were expecting tonight. My dad really wanted me to meet with you because of that development deal. You and he are in agreement that this isn't high school anymore, so in that spirit, I hope you won't let my bad memories ruin any deal with my father.”

“No, of course not, but—”

“Thanks, Dillon. I appreciate the effort, but I just can't let those memories go. But it was good to catch up.”

Even in the midst of walking away, she wanted to go back and apologize. Maybe he hadn't deserved that. He wasn't Jason. He hadn't meant to be cruel. And she really didn't want to make him feel bad. But she straightened her spine and kept walking toward her friends' table.

“Have a little fucking confidence,” she whispered to herself.

Ask your friends for help
, her brain fired back, but she ignored it and smiled at Lauren and Isabelle. Gabe was gone. There was no help for that.

“If that was a date,” Lauren said, “it doesn't look like it went well.”

“It definitely wasn't a date,” Veronica said, taking the empty chair that Lauren patted.

Jake glared at the table Veronica had come from. “I thought you were dating Gabe.”

“I thought you didn't like that,” Veronica countered. Lauren had filled her in on Jake's reaction.

“I like Gabe a lot more than I like the looks of that guy.”

“It wasn't a date,” Veronica repeated.

“Good,” he muttered.

“Shut up, Jake,” Lauren said, though she kissed his cheek when she said it. “Whoever Veronica says is good enough for her is good enough for her.”

He didn't look the least bit convinced by that, but he shrugged. “Gabe is okay.”

She didn't want to talk about Gabe. She couldn't. To her horror, she felt tears welling in her eyes again. Lauren snapped into action. “Jake, could you go somewhere else for a minute? I think we need some girl talk.”

He jumped up as if he was relieved. “I've got to be at the station in thirty. I'll just head over early.”

“Thanks, sweetie,” Lauren said. She let him give her a kiss on the cheek then turned his head for a kiss on the mouth, as well. “Be safe. I'll see you in the morning.”

Veronica wiped her tears away and glanced around to see if anyone was watching.

“What's really going on?” Lauren pressed.

Veronica shrugged. Everything inside her was telling her to keep quiet, but she was tired of keeping quiet. Tired of handling all her stresses and sorrows alone. Gabe was gone, and now her friends were all she had. She didn't want to be alone anymore.

Veronica swallowed back the urge to cry. “Did you know he only had a one-year contract?”

“Gabe?” Lauren asked. “No, I didn't hear anything about that. It's unusual, but maybe Jean-Marie wasn't sure he'd work out. Why?”

“He has a one-year contract because he's moving to New York in a year.”

“Oh,” Lauren said.

“And he didn't tell me.”

Isabelle cleared her throat. “Maybe he was going to.”

“He says he was, but he didn't and it looks like he's not coming back.”

“Shit,” Lauren said. “I'm sorry.”

“Don't pass that on to Jean-Marie,” Veronica added quickly. “It was a personal conversation. But...I just feel so stupid. Like he was playing me this whole time.”

“But was he?” Isabelle asked. “You just started dating. Were you guys serious yet?”

That was the question, wasn't it? She'd felt serious things for him, but they'd never once talked about it. She'd never even asked if he was seeing other people. Maybe she wasn't being rational, but feelings weren't supposed to be rational, were they? And maybe it had meant too much to her, after all.

But she couldn't explain that to Lauren and Isabelle. She'd confessed that she was a failure in New York, but she couldn't confess
this
.

“Did he lie to you?” Lauren asked, putting her hand over Veronica's. “Because that's really shitty if he did.”

Not quite. Not really. “I can't say he lied to me. It's just that he only told me the easy things and not the difficult ones.”

Lauren nodded. “But didn't you do the same? Isn't that what people do when they're first dating? Put on their best face?”

“Maybe that's my problem. I told him things I'd never told anyone. But that was my fault, right?”

Isabelle shook her head. “You were open. There's nothing wrong with that. You trusted him.”

“That's the thing!” she said. “He
asked
me to trust him, and I did. I honestly did. I trusted him to be honest and I even trusted him with—” She snapped her mouth shut, hoping she'd caught it in time, but both women were eyeing her intently now. Waiting.

“Is there something you're not saying?” Lauren asked quietly.