Tumble (Dogwood Lane #1)(34)
His brows are raised, clearly in surprise, as he reaches above his head and grabs the top of the door. There’s no tilt of his lips, no outward expression that he’s happy to see me.
Talk fast. Get it over with.
“Hey,” I say, fidgeting with the hem of my tank top. “I hope you don’t mind me coming by so late, but I didn’t want to say this over the phone. Not that I had your number but . . .” I look down. “I’m rambling.”
I wait a few moments for him to say something. Nothing comes. Holding my breath, I look back up at him. He’s almost grinning.
“You’ve always been kind of cute when you ramble.” His shoulders rise and fall. “Might be your saving grace tonight.”
“I just wanted to say I’m sorry.”
He blanches. “That beer couldn’t have been that expired,” he mutters.
“What?”
“Nothing.” He steps onto the porch and pulls the door closed behind him. There are two rocking chairs to my right, and he heads that way. “You want to apologize, huh?” he asks, sinking into one of the chairs. “I better sit down for this.”
“You aren’t cute when you’re being a dick,” I tell him, sitting in the other rocker.
“That’s not a good way to start an apology.”
“I haven’t started yet.”
He finally smiles a wide grin that shows off his pearly-white teeth. “So? Let’s hear it.”
“You’re enjoying this way too much.”
We sit in silence, rocking back and forth in the old-fashioned chairs. The motion is relaxing, and coupled with the sweet scent from the rosebushes planted at the end of the porch, my shoulders sink into the chair.
“I bet Mia tumbles across there, huh?” Motioning toward the front yard, I look at Dane. “It’s the perfect length for a tumbling pass.”
“She does. It makes me crazy. I’m afraid she’ll fall on her head.”
Laughing at the tortured look on his face, I shake my head. “It’s good to fall on your head sometimes. It teaches you to keep your hands up.”
His rocking slows. “Is that why you’re here? You fell on your head, and now you’re trying to get your hands up?”
“No. I’m here because I’m a guilt-stricken person who doesn’t want to go home without at least trying to apologize for things I said that I didn’t mean.”
“Here’s the thing, Neely—I think you did mean them.”
“That’s not true.”
“You sure about that?” He rocks faster again, setting his sights somewhere across the street. “I know you have feelings about Mia, and—”
“I adore her,” I cut in. “She’s a great little girl.”
“I know that,” he says quietly.
Most people wouldn’t hear the pain in his voice, but it’s obvious to me. The notes buried in the language have me wanting to reach out. To touch his arm. To make him look at me so he can witness the genuineness in my eyes.
But I don’t. Instead, I fight the constriction in my chest as I search for words. He beats me to it.
“I regret a lot of things.” He flexes his jaw back and forth. “I regret thinking I knew what was best for you and breaking up with you so you’d go to college.”
“What?” I sit up in the chair. “What are you talking about?”
“I didn’t want to go to New York. I’d just started at the mill and figured it would suit me better than some metropolitan city I had no interest in. The mill suited me, Neely. But New York suited you.”
Someone might as well be trying to explain to me the earth is flat, because none of this makes sense. I stare at him in the moonlight and wonder if I’m hearing things. “I had no idea that’s why you broke up with me.”
“I know. I felt like it was easier having you be mad at me and just going. You needed to take that scholarship, Neely. You were so damn talented, and all you ever talked about was this life of doing all this stuff.” He looks at the ground. “I didn’t want that life, and it wasn’t fair to make you pick between the two.”
My heart sits at the base of my throat. “It wasn’t fair for you to pick for me either.”
His eyes lift to mine, and we rock back and forth, searching each other’s gaze for understanding.
“I loved you,” he says, his voice so soft it’s barely audible over the crickets chirping in the yard. “I figured I’d let you go and you’d come back to me eventually.”
“I would’ve. If we were together, I wouldn’t have gone to New York after college. But we weren’t, and you had Katie and the baby and I couldn’t stomach seeing that, Dane.”
His face pales. He sucks in a deep, haggard breath before blowing it out slowly. “I’ve never truly apologized to you for that.”
“For what?”
“For Katie.”
“Dane, I don’t want to—” I say, adjusting in my seat. He cuts me off.
“Listen to me. I’m sorry for sleeping with her. I’m sorry for doing that to you. I know those words are the most overused words in the fucking English language, but I don’t know what else to say.”