Goodbyes and Second Chances (The Bleu Series Book 1) (16 page)

“You couldn’t
help it,” I mumble through my tears. I know he couldn’t, not with everything
just taking off for him. I know me rejecting him helped to keep him away too.

He walks us over
to the bed and cradles me until I’ve mourned for all that has been lost. Once
my tears subside, Dillon spoons me to him and begins to snore quietly.

* * * *

Later this late
afternoon, I quietly scoot out of the bed. I’ve been watching Dillon sleep for
hours now. It’s all a
déjà vu
moment. We
have already lived this and seem to be doing it again. But life is different
this time. And speaking of which, I head over to the office to call Leona. I
charge past Jen as she is finishing up her day. I hold my hand up to her and
cut her a stern look. This is enough to keep her quiet.

“What are y’all
up to?” I ask as soon as Leona answers her phone.

“Just grabbing
an early supper. How about you?”

“Trying not to
have a heart attack,” I say. “I need some time. Can you tell Will I’ve come
down with a nasty bug, and he has to stay away from me for a few days?” I hate
lying to him, but I just don’t know what else to do at the moment.

“You want to
talk to him?”

“No. I can’t.
Not right now.”

“Okay, honey.
You just get yourself better. We’ll see you in a few days.”

I hear Will in
the background say, “Tell her I love her.”

“Tell him I love
him too. And Leona, I love you too.”

“Awe, you know I
love you more,” she says, and I hear the smile in her voice.

As I set the
phone down, Jen walks in and sits opposite of me. She’s watching me with her
concerned hazel eyes. I lay my head on top of the desk. “What am I going to
do?”

I feel her pat my
arm. “You are going to have to tell both of them. This isn’t fair to either of
them or you.”

And she’s right,
but I just can’t bring myself to do it yet. I raise my head and rub my tired
eyes. “I’ll be over at Aunt Evie’s for the night, if you need me.” I stand up
and follow Jen to the front counter to help power down the computers.

“Where’s
Dillon?” she asks as she closes the front window blinds.

“Passed out in
my cabin. I think the last leg of this tour took a toll on him.” I don’t tell
her about Mave, but I’m thinking he has been a bigger effect on Dillon than
anything. The man is loyal to a fault, and I know he is taking Maverick’s
problems personally.

“If that fine
man was in my bed, there’s no way I’d leave him alone,” Jen says with a smirk.

“I’m not even
going to reward you with an argument on that one. I’ll see you tomorrow.” I
head out the door and back to my cabin. I tiptoe in and find Dillon sprawled
out, face down on my bed, in only his boxers. He is sound asleep and his feet
are dangling off the end of the bed. I guess he is where he will be until
tomorrow at least. I grab a change of clothes before easing back over to the
bed to get a better look at him. His arms are tucked under his pillow so I
can’t see the artwork on them. I’ll have to wait on getting a good look at
them. I do spot a small change with the tattoo of my name on his upper back.
Discreetly tucked under the L is the date of our last night together. Seeing
this makes my throat thicken with emotion. I want to run my fingertips over
those significant numbers, but I refrain myself and slip back out the door.

I walk the few
streets over to Aunt Evie’s and unlock her door. I walk in. The floral scent of
her still lingers in the air, as though she has just passed through, even
though it’s been five years. I’ve left it just as it was, except the fridge has
been cleaned out and unplugged. I walk over to her small dinette table and set
my clothes down before picking up her hymnal. I flip a few pages and see her
notations every so often. She loved helping with the music in our small church,
and she loved it even better when Dillon played her beloved hymns.

I have to sit
down as too many memories haunt me all at once. Aunt Evie was my rock and I
thank God for giving her to me. I just wish He would have let me keep her
longer. I sure could use her advice right now. She would have told me like it
is, too. One thing I always admired about that woman is she never pitied me or
Kyle. She picked us up that fateful day, dusted us off, and guided us towards a
better life.

She always had a
way of words too. One saying she had that always cracked us up was, “Don’t go
thinking how much greener that grass is on the other side. ‘Cause just as soon
as you hop over that fence, you gonna land in a big pile of cow poop.” In other
words, things aren’t always as good as they seem. And more times than not, you
discover you don’t have it as bad as you thought.

Another one of
her sayings that has always stuck with me is, “Always be true to God and always
be true to yourself, and everything else will truly work itself out.” I think
it’s time I use this advice. It’s time for me to be true, to not just me, but
also to the men in my life. I’m torn between what I want to do and what I need
to do. I have to figure out a way of reconciling the two before it all blows up
in my face.

I get up from
the small table and head to my old room, leaving this problem to sort out until
tomorrow.

Chapter
Fourteen

I wake with a start before the sun is
even up, and I know he is standing over me before I even open my eyes. The man
has such a presence, and my skin pricks at his nearness. I just keep lying here
and decide against opening them all together. I just want to keep dreaming so I
don’t have to figure out reality. His warm fingers glide over my exposed thigh,
but I try to not respond.

“I know you’re
awake. Stop pretending,” he says in a husky voice full of sleep.

I roll over and
peep an eye open and find him staring down at me. “What are you doing here?” I ask.
He is in only his boxers and I have the mental picture flash through my head of
this giant of a man stumbling over here, half naked, in the dark. I only hope
no one saw him. I can just see the tabloid headlines now, ROCK LEGEND DILLON
BLEU CAUGHT STREAKING!

“I think the
question should be, ‘What are you doing here?’ I woke up alone, Jewels. I’m
really tired of waking up alone,” he murmurs. And he really does sound tired.

And I swear the
man has just crammed himself next to me in my small bed and is cuddling me like
a blame teddy bear. We lay in silence and the next thing I know he is back
asleep. Great. Now what? I’m about to try to squirm from underneath him, but
stop. He’s seeking me out because he needs me. So I try to get comfortable the
best I can and hold him right back. I lay here listening to him breathe and
feel his even heartbeat underneath my hand until I finally doze back off too.

It seems I just
closed my eyes when I am opening them again to the sound of my phone ringing. I
roll over and find that I am alone. Did I dream him up? I can still smell his
cologne on my skin so maybe not. I scoop up the phone and answer it when it
starts going off again.

“Hello?” I
answer groggily.

“You feeling
better?” Will asks, hesitantly.

“A little, but I
think it’s best for you to stay away another day. I don’t want you catching
it,” I say as I wander towards the front of the trailer to find my guest, but
he is nowhere to be found. I rub my hands over my face. The anxiety of it all
is starting to build.

“I miss you,” he
nearly whispers, making me feel even worse.

“I miss you
more. Just one more day. I love you,” I say hoarsely.

“I love you
too.” He hangs up, and I wonder if he can sense something is up with me.

I can’t focus on
that right now. I have to focus on figuring out what I’m going to do about
Dillon. I change into a clean pair of jeans and, just for kicks, a Bleu Streak
T-shirt. I slide on a pair of shoes and head over to my cabin.

I spot Ms.
Raveena in her yard, watering her little garden. I throw my hand up. “Good
morning.”

“Oh yes it has
been.” She chuckles. “You tell that Dillon I enjoyed the little peep show he
gave me this morning. He sure has grown into one fine looking man and can fill
out a pair of boxers like no other.” She’s nodding her head, and you can tell
she is replaying those images in her thoughts. I don’t blame her. They have to
be pretty spectacular.
 

I have to laugh
at this. I guess hotshot was quite a sight walking around nearly naked. “Umm…
Did anyone else get to see that show?” I ask, hesitantly.

“Just me, as far
as I know, dear.” She turns the hose off and wanders closer in my direction.

“How long ago
was that show?” I look around for any sign of the streaking giant.

“About an hour
ago. Tell him he can mosey on back by anytime.” She’s giggling like a school
girl and is fanning her face with her garden gloves. The woman is in her late
seventies. Too funny! But we are talking about Dillon Bleu. That man could get
a corpse riled up.

I walk the few
streets over, laughing all the way. I find his Harley still in the same spot as
yesterday. I ease inside and the place is abandoned. Humph. I glance out at the
back deck. Empty.

I give up my
search and set a pot of coffee to brewing while I go take care of my tangled
hair and morning breath. I’m sure he’ll turn up eventually. The guy doesn’t
know how to sit still too very long.

After the coffee
is finished brewing, I grab a cup and sit on the porch to take in the stillness
of dawn. It’s my favorite time of day. It’s as though I have a secret with the
day when we share these first private hours together. Now is normally the time
I write my small article for the paper. I get to do this weekly. It’s about
whatever strikes my fancy. Writing is my creative outlet, and I’m so thankful I
have this small opportunity. Thank goodness I have already submitted it for
this week. My mind is a jumbled mess, and who knows what kind of article I
would end up producing.

This week’s
article is about a woman and her brave battle with breast cancer. I spent a few
days getting to know her, and now she is my hero. She endured well over a
year’s worth of treatments and surgeries and hundreds of appointments and came
out victorious. Ms. Spivey is celebrating her heroic accomplishment with a
celebration cruise with over one hundred friends and family members. She has
inspired so many along the way, never complaining openly and giving God all the
praise—even through the loss of both her breasts and her hair, and close to two
years of her life. But talking to her, she only feels like she has gained in
that time. Her acquaintances said she was known for saying it could always be
worse. She’s definitely my kind of woman, and her story needed to be
celebrated. I wanted the world to know about her inspiring life, so I wrote a lengthy
piece, thinking it would get edited and cut down considerably. I was pretty
shocked when I received a proof layout yesterday morning showing me it got the
entire front page of the Lakeshore Times. I’m pretty proud of that. It’s my
first front page and her story is so fitting to be my first. It’s not the New
York Times where she should be shared, but I’m honored to do it in my town’s
paper all the same.

I’m going back
over it all as I down the last of my coffee. I’m about to go grab another cup
when the colorful work truck takes a corner way too fast and barrels down the
coquina path past me, rustling up a thick cloud of dust in its wake. The next
thing I know, it does a neat one-eighty, shooting back in the opposite
direction before coming to an abrupt stop in front of me. I’m down the steps in
one beat and am about to fire someone, when I spot Dillon trying to unfold
himself from behind the driver’s side of the tiny truck.

“How in the
world did you get yourself in that truck, and how did you manage to steal it
from Blake?” Really. Dillon has to be at least five inches past six feet, and
that truck is almost too small for me. And I’m well over a foot shorter than
him.

Blake wheels up
behind the truck without seeing me. “Dude, that was epic! You gotta show me how
to do that!” Blake is a junior in high school and helps me before school to
earn gas money. He hops off the golf cart and stops dead in his tracks when he
finally spots me as I stand here, with my hands firmly planted on my hips in
frustration.

Dillon is
laughing. It’s obvious he’s nearly giddy to see me have to be an adult. I stay
silent as I am still trying to figure out how to handle this, when he speaks.
“It was my fault. I stole the truck.” He’s trying to rein in his laughter and
failing terribly.

“Liar,” I say to
him then turn my attention to Blake. “You need to finish the garbage collecting
and we’ll have a talk about this after school.” He lives in the trailer park
with his grandma. He’s a good kid, just easily influenced. I should really try
to keep him away from Dillon as much as possible.

“Dillon
Bleu
already helped me do all of it, and
he helped me hose off the pool and dock walkways too,” Blake says proudly. Oh
no. He’s star struck, too.

“Listen, Blake. I’ll
let this little incident go, if and only if, you promise to keep it to yourself
that Dillon is here. I don’t need a circus breaking out over him. You got it?”

“Yes ma’am,” he
says in agreement. I glance over at Dillon, who is fighting a smile something
awful at me just being called
ma’am
.
Jerk. He gives in and chuckles, but tries to cover it with a cough.

Blake fist bumps
Dillon before climbing in the little truck and heading slowly back to the
maintenance shed. Like slow driving is going to help me forget what just
transpired.

I glance over to
the golf cart left behind.

“I did steal
that. I’m sorry,
ma’am
. I promise to
return it,
ma’am
,” he says with a
smirk on his face, making me punch him in the arm.

He holds his
hands up in surrender and follows me back into the cabin. “You still hit like a
girl. You’ve gotta stop tucking your thumb in,
ma’am
.”

I head to the
kitchenette for some more coffee. I hand him a cup and we walk onto the back
deck to enjoy it. I glance at the clock on the way out. It’s only seven. It
already feels like a day’s worth of mess has happened.

“Why are you up
so early?” I ask as we watch the sun slowly burn off the lake’s fog.

“I just had the
best night’s sleep in over five years. I’m good,” he says as he props his feet
on the rail and scans the lake. He seems good too. He looks refreshed. The dark
circles have all but disappeared.

“You’ve been
back one day and are already causing mischief. What am I going to do with you?”
I look at him sternly.

“Oh, I can think
of a few things I would love for you to do to me,” he says, showing off those
darn dimples. I can’t tear my gaze away from them. I’m in absolute trouble. I
know I keep repeating this, because it’s what I keep thinking. I. Am. In.
Absolute. Trouble.

He is wearing a
black T-shirt and I can finally get a good look at his forearms. I pull his
left one over to my lap and run my fingers over the intricate lettering. It is
two words in a language I don’t recognize.
Vita
Benedetto
.
“What does that
mean?” I ask him as I study it.

“It’s Italian
for
blessed life
,” he says as he
looks down at it, too. I should have known it was Italian. It’s completely
sexy.

Dillon notices
my gaze has moved to his right inner forearm, so he sets his coffee cup down on
the rail and places his arm in my lap so I can inspect it too. This tattoo is
an elaborate cross. It reminds me of a wrought iron crucifix with scrolling
medallion artwork. I trace the patterns that wind in and out. “A cross?” I ask.

He watches me
skim my hand over his skin. “Yeah. It’s to remind me of what all God’s done for
me. And that no matter what, He’s got my back.”

I try to make a
poorly timed joke. “Wow. I’m surprised you didn’t leave him here with the rest
of us.” My teasing instantly falls flat. I wish I could suck the stupid words
back in.

Dillon’s brows
pinch together as he takes a deep breath, as though he’s trying to calm
himself. “No. I asked Him to come along on my adventure just as I asked you.”
Dillon stands up and runs his hands through his hair in irritation before
glaring at me. “He willingly agreed to stand by me, unlike you!” He storms back
through the cabin and right out the front door.

I sit stunned.
Well, I guess I deserve that. That was stupid of me. Totally stupid. I don’t
know what to do, so I sit here and do nothing. Dillon is here for me,
obviously, and all I seem to be able to do is try my darnedest to push him away
again.

I fish my phone
out and shoot Jen a text that I won’t be in today. I’ve sat out here on the
deck for nearly a half hour, giving Dillon time to cool off. I obviously pushed
a touchy button. I pick up my empty coffee cup along with his abandoned one and
bring them inside. After placing the cups in the sink, I take a deep breath and
set out to find Dillon and apologize. I’ve been debating where I want to start
since he stormed out.

I don’t have to
go very far to find him. He is kneeling by his bike, wiping the chrome down.
“I’m sorry,” I blurt out.

Dillon looks
over his shoulder before returning to his task at hand without saying a word.

I walk up to him
and run my hand along the leather seat, admiring the gorgeous beast of a bike.
“So a motorcycle is your choice of transportation,” I say, trying to get him to
talk to me.

He stands up and
stows the rag in a side pocket. “It fits in a compartment in the tour bus. It’s
convenient.”

“It’s sexy,” I
say.

This gets him to
look at me. He studies me for a few beats before asking, “Take a ride with me?”

“Umm… I don’t
know, Dimples.”

He pulls out a helmet
and passes it to me. “Come on, pretty girl. Take a ride with me.”

I take the
helmet and shove it over my head as he slides on a pair of sunglasses. And then
I walk up to the massive bike and try unsuccessfully to climb on. Dillon grabs
me up by the waist and places me on the seat. He merely lifts his leg a bit and
swings on in front of me.