Page 50 of Fracture
“No, you’re not.” I rake my fingers over the rough stubble, which has gotten so much longer since he got out. “You’re the best person.”
He tilts his head, his eyes shining with tears as he looks at me. “I left him to die alone. What kind of person does that?”
“The kind who’d been abused by him. You didn’t owe him anything.” I rinse my hands in the water, and cradle Dylan’s face. “You are not a bad person. You’re incredible, and you’re sweet.”
“I’m glad he’s dead.”
“Me too.”
Dylan’s face screws up as though he’s in pain, and he presses the icy glass to his head. “I hated him so much.”
“I know,papi. I know.”
“I wanted him to die in pain, I wanted him to feel everything he’d ever made me feel. And what happened? He just went to sleep.” He sucks in a heavy breath, sitting up in the tub and throwing back the rest of his whiskey, sucking on his teeth as the alcohol burns his throat. “I shouldn’t wish that on anyone, what kind of person does that?”
“Dylan, stop.” I put my arms around him, holding him close as he gasps for air. “Don’t do this to yourself. Please.”
He lays his head against my shoulder with a heavy sigh. “Everyone’s gone now. I don’t have any family anymore.”
“Yes, you do. You have me, and Levi.” I clench my eyes shut, disgust and revulsion burning in my throat like bile. As though to reassure myself, I clutch Dylan closer, not caring that he’s soaking my blouse, or that my knees are aching against the hard tiled floor. I deserve to hurt. I deserve flagellation. After I nearly betrayed the man who’s now gasping for air and feeling alone. I should tell Dylan to run, to save him from more pain, from more hurt, from all the things he doesn’t deserve.
Instead, I hold on to him for dear life, like the selfish bitch I am.
“Will you come with me to the funeral?” He asks after a while.
“Of course I will.”
He pulls back from me, seeming to take in my appearance for the first time as he rubs the heel of his hand under his eye. “You look nice. Did you go to work?”
“Yeah, I had to check some cases, and I decided to go back early.”
“Oh.” Dylan nods, leaning on the edge of the tub. He gazes at me with his dark eyes, and my heart wrenches. “I’m so sorry about the other day. I shouldn’t have pushed you. I wanted you, and I wanted to make you feel good. I missed you so bad, and then I pushed you, and I’m so fucking sorry Stella.”
“Papi, no.” I clasp on to his hand, holding it to my cheek. “You didn’t. I wanted it. I wanted you, I promise. It was just… intense.”
“If you want to wait, I’ll wait. I waited ten years for you, I can wait as long as you need.”
I have no idea how long I’ll need. Not after my confession. I hate myself for telling Levi, for putting this burden on him and straining his relationship with Dylan. Now Dylan needs us, and we have this hanging over us like a black cloud. Shit.
Dylan rises out of the tub, and I get to my feet to hand him a towel.
“When’s the funeral?” I ask as he dries himself.
“Next Friday. I’m tempted to have the old bastard cremated, he’d hate that.” Dylan’s sneer is filled with pain. “But then I think of my dad and I can’t bring myself to do it.”
“See?” I put my arms around him, holding him close and burying my face in the crook of his neck. “You’re a good person. You want to do the right thing by someone who doesn’t even deserve it.”
He encircles me with his arms, holding me tightly against him, and he’s naked and warm and smells amazing. “I’m so glad I have you.”
“You do, you have me.” More lies.
“Can you… Can you come and lie down with me?” He pulls back, his eyes not meeting mine as he hangs his head. “I’m sorry, I just don’t want to be alone, but I’m fucking exhausted.”
“Of course.”
I follow him to his bedroom, taking my clothes off as he climbs into bed naked. He eyes me uncertainly as he pulls the sheet back.
“I can put clothes on if you want.”