Distraction (Club Destiny #8)(17)
Not that she’d been pining over the man all this time, because she certainly hadn’t. That would’ve been pure insanity.
Quite frankly, had it not been for the CISS party last weekend, Sarah might’ve believed she was over Dylan. However, the second she had walked out on the deck of the waterfront restaurant, her gaze straying to him, she’d felt it take root in her soul.
But that was done and over with. She had no reason to see Dylan again, so it would be in her best interest to move forward.
Too bad she couldn’t get him off her mind now.
DYLAN CLIMBED OUT OF HIS truck and nudged the door closed with his hip after snagging the flowers he’d purchased earlier that day from the passenger seat. He’d been putting this off for hours, but he’d finally relented, knowing that if he didn’t, he’d hate himself tomorrow.
Pulling his hood up over his head to stave off the bitterly cold wind, he made the grueling trek toward his destination. With every step he took, the constriction on his heart tightened. It had been three months since he’d been here, and yet it felt as though he’d made this same journey only yesterday.
Taking another deep breath, he willed his feet forward, clutching the flowers in his fingers. When he finally arrived at Meghan’s grave, he took another deep, cleansing breath, ignoring the cold drizzle that added to an already gloomy evening.
“Hey, honey,” he said aloud. He’d long ago stopped worrying whether or not people thought he was crazy for talking to his dead wife, but he knew at this time of night, it didn’t matter anyway. No one was out in the cemetery after dark. “I’m here.”
Not that she would ever answer him, but Dylan liked to pretend it was possible Meghan could hear him. He wanted her to anyway. It was the very reason he still came here three times a year to spend a little time with her, to tell her what was going on with his life. The same things he’d talked to her about when she’d been alive, only back then, his heart hadn’t been so heavy.
Glancing around, he confirmed the surrounding gravesites were absent any visitors, so he decided to take a seat. Lowering himself to the wet grass, he crossed his legs and rested his elbows on his knees after arranging the flowers in the vase set in the stone. The only light came from the randomly placed light posts, but it was enough for him to see.
“It’s not much,” he muttered as he straightened one of the drooping flowers. “Last minute and all.”
He could still remember the few times he’d brought Meghan flowers back when she’d been alive. It hadn’t taken but one time for him to realize that the simple gesture was the easiest way to put a sparkle in her eyes. He could admit that he hadn’t been the most romantic man on the planet, but he’d tried to show her how much he loved her. Sometimes he wondered if he’d done enough.
The pang he was all too familiar with feeling in his chest was less agonizing than it used to be, although there was still a slight ache. A longing that he couldn’t seem to outrun. Even after eleven years, Dylan still wished he could turn back time and save his beautiful wife from the vicious disease that had stolen her from him. But the cancer had been brutal, taking her away from him without giving them a choice.
Since going back in time wasn’t an option, he settled for thinking about her often, and for these visits, though they were becoming more infrequent as time passed. For years, he would come out to the cemetery multiple times. Meghan’s birthday, their anniversary, Stacey’s birthday, Nate’s birthday, even his own. He’d made it by for holidays, and sometimes just because. But with every passing year, those visits had lessened, and now, he forced himself to come on her birthday, their wedding anniversary, and the anniversary of her death because he didn’t want her to think he’d forgotten about her.
So, thinking about her was exactly what he did for the next half hour, sitting there alone. His feet finally went numb, and he had to reposition his legs to get the blood pumping again. Leaning back on his hands, his legs stretched out in front of him, Dylan stared up at the moon. The clouds parted enough he could see the ominous light shining through.
Glancing down at her headstone, then back up at the sky, he said, “I’m just curious, honey … am I supposed to be as fucked up as I am? I mean, it’s been more than a decade since you … died.” He swallowed hard. “I’ve heard the pain would fade, and yeah, I can see that it has. But, Meghan, tell me why I can’t move on. Damn, honey…” Dylan took a deep breath. “I’m so glad you don’t know the man I’ve been all these years. I can’t help but think you would’ve hated me. At the very least, you would’ve been disappointed. I wouldn’t blame you, either. I’ve let everyone down.”
He wiped away a tear with the back of his hand. He knew he was acting strangely, and surprisingly, he hadn’t had a single thing to drink for the past three years thanks to his single-minded determination and a shitload of support from the AA meetings he’d started to attend. It hadn’t been easy, but he was making a valiant effort to pay attention to the important things in his life. Work, kids, family. Himself. All the things he’d put off for so long while he’d drowned himself in booze and memories of the one woman he’d never imagined he would have to live without.
“Maybe you should just tell me to move on,” he muttered. “It would be so much easier to hear you say it. I can’t seem to let go, babe. I can’t and I know I need to. The kids look at me funny, on the rare occasion they even do that. Nate’s pissed off all the time. Stacey’s too busy with her own blossoming social life to notice me at all. And instead of embracing life, I’ve pushed everyone away because I don’t know which way is up anymore.”