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The pilot thanked us for flying and we began to depart the plane. My heart was heavy in my chest as I entered the building. The last time I was here, I’d gotten on a one-way flight to Seattle, prepared to never return again. Tim paid for that flight, giving me all the money from his savings and bidding me farewell.
I stumbled at the thought, accidentally dropping my carry-on.
Dexter’s hands were quick, one snatching my bag from the ground, the other steadying me. I righted myself, smoothing over my sweater, and when I reached for my bag, he caught my eye.
“Everything’s going to be all right,” he said as our fingers touched when we exchanged the carry-on from his hand to mine.
I cleared my throat and we moved forward, heading to get our luggage.
A half hour later, we were outside in the snow waiting for Dexter’s rental car.
“Where am I staying?” I asked. It was embarrassing that we’d gotten this far, and I didn’t even think about the minute details that were surfacing now.
How will I plan a service for Tim? Who will I invite?
What will I do about my mother?
“You’ll be staying with me. At Tracey’s,” he said as he gathered our things. When the minivan pulled up, Dexter apologized, telling me it was the only decent one available.
Of course, I didn’t care. I opened the passenger door as he shoved our things inside and got in the driver’s side. “I don’t think I can go back.” I peeked over at him, expecting anger or frustration. After all, he’d covered every single detail of this trip while I’d simply spaced out.
“If you’re worried about my aunt, don’t be. She’s always loved you, no matter what. If you’re worried about…everything else, you don’t have to be. I want to take care of you.”
I wanted to scream. It was too much. “This is too fast. It’s too much. I feel like I can’t breathe and you’re justeverywhere, Dexter.” The tears I’d held back, that I couldn’t feel, came out of nowhere. And once I started, I couldn’t stop. “I’m back in this place and Tim’s dead. The only decent human being I’m related to is gone. And you’re sitting here and you’re perfect.” I swallowed, catching my breath. “You quoteAnna Kareninafor God’s sake, and all I can think about is how I can’t freak out—I shouldn’t freak out. But really, I’m counting the moments until you’re gone again. And you can’t promise that you won’t be because we went through that already! You made plans, we gave each other everything, and you still left me.”
I tried to push the door open, but Dexter grabbed me, pulling me close. He reached over and locked the door.
“If you get out of this car, I will chase you, and when I catch you, it won’t be pretty. Sit there and listen to me while I drive to Tracey’s. She’s expecting us for dinner.”
Dexter had never spoken to me in that tone of voice before. I’d been privy to his frustration, his disappointment, his adoration, even his humor. But never had I met the man who was sitting beside me, staring at me with heat and control.
He started the car and we were on our way. I counted in my head to keep myself from losing my cool again.
One. Two. Three.
I looked over at Dexter who had calmed himself.
Four. Five.
I stared at him again.
Twenty-two.
I blinked away.
Twenty-three.
When he spoke, I had to hold back the loud sigh I wanted to exhale.
“I’m not good at this, Noa. I don’t know how to fix this.” He tapped the steering wheel, and I watched the pads of his fingers as they connected with each movement. Those hands that had touched and ravished, leaving not a portion of me undiscovered by them.
I blushed and turned away.
He continued, not noticing. “I need you to try not to think about this as temporary. I know it’s hard for you, and I know I let you down. I let us down. But in these last years, I’ve grown. You can’t act like we’re both eighteen years old again because we aren’t. I’ve seen life without you, and that isn’t what I want.” He glanced at me. “And I don’t think that’s what you want either.”
“Not at all,” I whispered, afraid to be louder.
I wasn’t afraid of Dexter in the sense that he’d purposefully or without cause, hurt me. Maybe I was afraid of the things I hadn’t yet said. Or maybe the things I’d faced as a result of us.
