Connected (Connections, #1)(75)

He flinches at my tone but tenderly places his arms on my shoulders. Dunking down so we’re at eye level he says, “That’s what I’m trying to tell you. It’s not like that.”

With complete honesty I say, “I just don’t know if I can do this. This thing we have is way more complicated than two people who are incredibly attracted to each other. Your brother is going crazy having me here. Does your sister even know any of this? And what about your mother! What will she say?”

“Dahlia! Listen to me!” he says, but I don’t. I can’t. I don’t want my heart to break again so instead I turn around and start walking in the other direction toward his car as he keeps pace. I navigate the sidewalk surprisingly well considering how foggy my brain feels. The air and life that was being sucked out of me becomes emptiness. Neither of us says another word. As we reach the parking garage, I just want to feel the bliss one more time, but I don’t think I will.

With my whole body shaking, I get into the car and wait for him to sit. Grabbing his cold cheeks, I look at him and I see he’s shaking as well. With tears in my eyes and sadness in my voice, I say what I know I’ve felt since Xander told me about his sister. “Here’s the thing River, I’ve already lost someone I loved, and it almost killed me. What I feel for you is so much more than I ever expected, and I know that if I stay here with you and begin to live again that I won’t survive losing you. And losing you is inevitable. We can’t be together if your family blames me for your sister’s accident. In the end, it will be our undoing.”

Shaking his head, he grabs my cheeks and forces me to look at him. “That’s just it Dahlia. No one blames anyone. Bell is happy. Our family is happy. It is Xander who can’t accept what happened. And to answer your question, yes my family knows about then and about now and they are happy for me, for us.” His eyes are glassy as he holds my gaze then leans in and kisses me. With that kiss I feel the air return to my lungs and life returns.

I pull away from his soft lips, confused in my current state of mind. I don’t know what to do, but I feel like this night has been a reality check. “I believe you, but it’s still time for me to stop playing house with you. I have to go home tomorrow.”





LITTLE THINGS


Your hand fits in mine

Like it’s made just for me

It just makes sense that we were meant to be

I see the faint freckles on your nose

These are the little things I love about you.





“Dalhia,” he says, his tone is as dark and sad as the place I have lived for the past two years before meeting him. “One day, if you change your mind . . . just know you’ll always be my once in a lifetime.”

He presses kisses to my forehead and nose, then turns, leaving me at the front door to the house I shared with Ben for so many years. The house that is now empty is the house where, once again, I will be alone.

Fear starts to wretch through my body, not from being alone, but from being without him. Was I wrong in my decision? Did he not tell me for us? Can we get past this? My questions don’t really matter because it’s too late. I have already said things I shouldn’t have. I made the decision to end us.

“Don’t leave me,” I yell as he walks down the path leading to another life.

Turning and glancing at me over his shoulder, his eyes are no longer gleaming their perfect shade of green; they’re cloudy, hazy even. “I’m not,” he says as he keeps walking. “You left me, beautiful girl.”

Tears stream down my face as I let him go, and he fades into the horizon.

Waking, my body thrashes in the sheets, and my fists clutch the pillows.

“Fuck,” I mutter to myself as relief washes through me when I realize it was just a dream. No it wasn’t a dream; it was a nightmare. Reaching over, there is no one there to hold me. It hurts to not have him here with me. Waking up with him next to me the last few days has been amazing and I feel empty and alone in his room without him.

Licking my dry lips, I lift my aching head. “What time is it?” I ask to nobody but myself.

My heart is still pounding in my chest as I reach over to the nightstand and pick up my phone, plugged into its charger. The time on the screen reads 11:48am. How did I sleep in this late? I never sleep past sunrise. As I set my phone back down, I see a bottle of water and two aspirin off to the side on the nightstand.

Hearing the roaring of thunder and the howling of the wind from outside, I gladly pick up the water and aspirin. The aspirin are sitting on top of a yellow Post-it note River must have found them on the counter where I quickly dumped my messenger bag yesterday looking for a pen to sign for the deliveries.

Sitting up, I pop the aspirin in my mouth and swig the water in hopes of calming the storm riveting in my head. As I set the bottle and paper down, I notice something written on the Post-it.

Beautiful girl . . . In case you’re not feeling so great.

Stretching and grinning at his note, I glance around the room. Sheets are tacked over the glass doors. He must have done that so I could sleep. How sweet. How could he be so nice to me after I was such a bitch last night? Shit, last night. I remember every minute of the horrible evening, every minute of our painful conversation, but I don’t remember getting into bed.

Glancing down, I notice I’m only wearing one of River’s t-shirts and my panties. I must have passed out in the car. Did he bring me inside, up all those stairs, and change my clothes? The last thing I remember saying after leaving the parking garage was that I still wanted him to take me home, to my home, not his, but I’d wait until morning.