Damage Done (19 page)

What a trivial argument it
had been, jealousy over a friendly smile given to another girl. Teenage
insecurity compounded by her father's infidelity to her mother, and Dylan was
all Rachel had. She'd been terrified of losing him, too. Savannah never failed
to remind her it was only a matter of time before Dylan found somebody new.

She'd waited near his truck until he made his way over to
her from his friends and asked angrily, "Should I find another ride, would
you like to take her home?"

He'd laughed, and she walked
off. He followed, begging her to wait. It started to rain, and he'd looked her
in the face and yelled, "Rachel, you make me crazy!"

"Then why do you want
to be with me?" she'd yelled back.

"Because I love you,
you crazy bitch! Even though you're always trying to find ways to push me away,
I still love you! Stop thinking I'm going to leave, or that I give a shit about
some other girl, you're never going to get rid of me, you're stuck with
me!"

She hadn't even been angry he'd called her a bitch, he'd
said he loved her. And that was all that had mattered.

The rain came faster now,
pounding the pavement, water splashing her face, her white blouse sticking to
her frame. But she had to run again, the disbelief and the grief and the rage
controlling her now had replaced the fear and sadness.

How would she ever find a way to live now knowing all that
had happened had been a result of her mother's manipulation? And deceit? She'd
been weak and foolish and her insecurity had driven her to become this nervous,
worrisome freak who never believed she deserved good things to happen in her
life. She hated herself for it.

"Rachel!" Dylan
barked, "Fucking stop!"

She turned to face him,
looking up into his pained and concerned face, "I didn't know."

"I know that now."

"I'm sorry, Dylan. I
should have tried harder, I should have been stronger, I was sick without you.
I was an idiot. I couldn't think- " she broke off.

"Rachel, I never
stopped loving you. Even when I hated you, I never stopped loving you. It was
my fault, I should have tried harder to show you what you meant to me, to make
you know without any doubt that I could never leave you."

"It wasn't your fault,
it was mine. I was broken. I'm still broken."

His blue eyes clouded, the
tears disappeared into the rain falling on his face, and for the first time she
could remember, the anxiety fell away from her, there was strength in knowing
her weakness. His hands went to push back his wet hair, his blue suit soaked
and dripping. Lightning cracked nearby, and she didn
’t flinch.

"You're not a piece of
glass, Rachel,
” he brought his wet face
to hers, "You’re not fucking broken.”

***

He hailed a taxi, and they sat
together quietly in the back, his strong hand gripped her leg tightly, the
fingers pressing hard into her jeans. The sky had darkened considerably, the
rain blew sideways. The driver slowed to make out the road in front of them,
his wipers no longer working fast enough to see through the pounding rain.

Buildings passed in a blur, people standing under doorways
and awnings, waiting for the rain to pass. Dylan needed to be alone with her,
somewhere quiet to process how they'd come to this place, and where they'd go
from here. The driver pulled up to the apartments, his doorman quickly opened
the back door with an umbrella in hand, eager to please whichever tenant may be
on their way home.

He stepped out deftly,
careful to step over the river that raced along the curbside then offered
Rachel his free hand, helping her out and then steadying her so she wouldn't
stumble in the small space between the cab and the sidewalk. The rain was still
picking up, wind pushing through the tall buildings. The canvas awning bucked
loudly against the strong gusts, and he reached for her elbow to escort her
inside. They rode the elevator in silence, Dylan held her hand, his fingers
laced with hers as he unlocked the door to his apartment. 

"Can I get you some dry
clothes? Do you want to take a shower?" he asked, removing his wet suit
jacket and throwing it to the floor near the front door.

"I'd love that, thank
you."

He wanted her here, but now
he felt uncertain. He kept his distance, unsure what they were doing. His body
stiffened as he walked past Michael’s closed door, he hadn’t been in there
since the accident.

"It's right in
here," he said, walking her down the short hall into a bedroom that hadn't
seen company for quite some time, "There are towels in the closet, everything
you need should be in the bathroom. I'll set something dry on the bed for
you."

He turned to walk out, but
stopped and looked at her, "Rachel, I'm glad you're here."

She was beautiful, wisps of
wet hair against her face, the cold rain turned her lips a darker shade of
pink, almost red, her eyes were dark and sad against her pale skin. He wanted
to close the distance, rip her clothes from her and lose himself in her body.

But he left her to shower instead, closing the door behind
him, he made his way to his bedroom.

If she hadn't still loved
him in some small way, even after all this time, she'd have made that clear
weeks ago. She'd never have returned his kiss, or looked at him hungrily as
she'd run her hands over his skin. And she'd never have come here with him, to
his apartment, not if she was happy or committed to her marriage.

The thought of her being married sickened him, would he be
the kind of man that broke up a family? That wasn't the man he wanted to be.

But too many things had been out of his control. Ordinary
rules no longer applied, everything had changed now.

What had he done?

He’d seen her with him then and his heart had shattered
into a million pieces, why hadn’t he gone to her? Fought for her? Maybe he had
walked away, too. He’d been terrified of having a baby, but he loved her. And
then he lost her, because he’d been too proud.

He stepped into the walk-in
shower and let ice cold water wash away the bitter regret he'd felt for kissing
her weeks before in her office.

They deserved to know if they were still meant for one
another, to hell with the consequences. He wouldn’t make the same mistake
again, he wouldn’t walk away without fighting for her.

But he wouldn't pressure her. She had to choose him for
herself, and until she did, he would take her any way he could get her.

***

She toweled off and found a
pair of gym shorts and a large t-shirt lying for her on the bed. It was
thoughtful, but they swallowed her. She opted instead for the heavy white robe
she saw hanging in the bathroom. For the first time in her life, she knew what
she wanted and she wasn't going to hesitate to take it.

She needed to feel Dylan's naked skin next to hers, and she
wanted him to know it. And the bathrobe would say what Rachel couldn't. If she
were a braver woman she'd walk into his living room totally naked, leave no
room for misinterpretation. But they needed to talk first. There were still too
many things that needed to be said.

The lightning illuminated
his apartment through the floor to ceiling windows that stretched the length of
the wall. The apartment wasn't huge, but it offered an impressive view of the
Houston Skyline. It was nicely furnished in a classic Le Corbusier modern
style, well suited to a single man. The black leather sofa and chairs were
accented with soft black and white cow hide rugs on a dark wood floor, an
entire wall covered in shelves, filled with books and trinkets collected over
the years. It was clean, but inviting.

 Scattered throughout were large heavy picture frames that
held photos of a blond child at various stages of his life. Michael.

"Dylan?"

"I'm in the kitchen."

His kitchen was immaculate,
nothing like hers at home, perpetually covered in half-eaten bowls of cereal
and paperwork that somehow managed to pile up. Dylan stood at the sink washing
peppers, he'd begun to saute' onions and garlic in a pan on the stove. His
freshly washed hair slicked back neatly, he glanced back from the sink and for
a moment she saw the boy she'd loved from the time she was fourteen.

"Still like
omelets?" he asked.

"Of course."

She sat on a nearby barstool and watched him work. Her eyes
made their way towards the fridge, the only place in the apartment that was in
disarray, it was covered in newspaper clippings, photographs, take-out menus
and hand-written notes.

"Dylan, do you have
anything to drink? I know it's early, but I could use a glass of wine."

However much she hated it, she was still nervous, and
needed something to help take off the edge.

"There's an open bottle
of white in the fridge, the glasses are in the cabinet to the left of the
stove."

She plucked the cold bottle
of La Crema from the big chrome fridge, looking over the treasures Dylan and
Michael had left on the door as she closed it. Photos of Michael, smiling and
excited as he explored a cave somewhere, another of him with a large dog, his
arms around its neck. A newspaper clipping from the local Ellis paper showed
Michael in his football uniform, smiling brightly and holding the ball out for
the photographer. The headline read, "National Merit Scholar Leads Eagles
to First Win of the Season!"
and then a note written on a napkin,
"Can't wait for Aspen! Thanks again!"

She wanted to ask Dylan about Michael, but waited for him
to bring it up, not wanting to push.

"Would you like a
glass?"

"No, thank you. I'm
having water," he nodded towards a glass full of ice water as he turned
off the faucet and began dicing the peppers.

He looked to her then,
hesitantly and asked, "Rachel, what happened to the baby?"

She'd prepared herself for
that question, not knowing how to avoid compounding the pain he'd been feeling
over Michael.

"I lost it," she
said with more confidence than she felt, "There just- there were too many
complications."

Relief flooded his face, she
knew it comforted him to hear she hadn't had an abortion. But it was only a
small consolation considering the price they'd both paid.

"I'm sorry," he
said.

"Me, too."

Silence.

"Dylan," she began
as she took her seat back on the barstool, "Where did you go? After
school?"

She held her breath and waited for him to continue the
awkward conversation she knew had to take place.

He stirred the vegetables
thoughtfully, turned down the gas burner, and placed his spoon on the counter
before turning to look at her.

"Where did you think I
went?"

"I had no idea. First I
thought maybe you were still in town, that you were avoiding me. Then I thought
maybe you'd gone to visit your mother's family, or maybe you'd left early for college.
I thought maybe you'd decided to stay out on the rig and work, or even that
you'd drowned out at the lake, and nobody knew you'd been out there, I thought
maybe you'd died in a car accident and nobody had been able to identify your
body. I thought a million different things."

She sought courage in the wine glass and finished,
"But mostly I thought you left because you didn't love me, that you didn't
want me to have the baby. Your mother told me she'd given you my messages, but
then- but I never heard back from you. I didn't know what to think."

He leaned over the counter
across from her, rested his weight on his elbows, and clasped his hands
together tightly, "We got stuck on the rig a few days because of a storm,
and my mom said you'd called, and I swear I called you as soon as I got back.
The housekeeper told me you were out of town, so I tried again and your mom
said you were asleep. It was always something else, I don't even know how many
times I called. I sat around, refused to leave the house, waiting for you to
call again. Then I went to Jameson's house and your mom called down to the gate
and told me you wanted to break up with me, that you were having an abortion. I
didn't believe her at first, I said I'd be back, that you had to tell me yourself.
I skipped work for a few days and waited to hear from you."

He paused thoughtfully and
looked at her, "I'm sorry I didn't tell my parents. If I'd known, maybe- I
should have told them. My mom could have told you how desperate I was to talk
to you. I'm sorry I couldn't have seen that then."

He closed his eyes and shook his head before looking back
up, "Anyway, I had to go back out on the rig, and I just kept thinking
that you were worried, that you needed time to think about everything that was
happening, about being pregnant and getting married."

"When I came back, I
went to talk to your dad, but he said he hadn't heard from you either. I had my
sister call and ask for you, anything I could think of to try and catch you
without them around. But you were always out of town. And when another three
weeks went by and I went to the house again, Jameson came down to the gatehouse
and told me you'd gone to San Antonio, that you were dating another guy."