Page 37 of Dirty Behavior

Ivy

Itried to sleep, but I couldn't.

The hours rolled by and Dante still hadn't returned. He needed time, he needed space to sort through the shit he was feeling. I had to try and understand that.

He thinks he's alone.

There was no way he would ever admit to it, but I knew he felt empty on the inside as pieces of his life were swept away in a tidal wave.

I knew because I had been there.

His mother was gone, his brother was already dead to him, and he had just lost his father. It didn't matter that he tried to play it up as part of the game, it didn't matter that he wanted to deflect all his emotions in every damn direction but straight ahead.

Dante was in pain.

I could see it clear as day. He wanted to hide it in the same place he shoved everything else, but that wouldn't work forever.

Dante couldn't deny that his father's death hurt him. I knew it pissed him off, I knew his death wasn't natural and that made it easy for Dante to get tunnel vision.

And my role in this didn't help his cause, it only fed it.

But at some point he was going to have to face it, he was going to have to let go of all this shit and just feel the hurt.

Fuck, I feel like an asshole.

I shouldn't have compared him to Sesto or thrown it in his face that I could forgive, but he lacked that ability. We were two different people, who came from two different worlds. We didn't respond to things the same way.

Who was I to judge his relationship with his brother when I was the reason we were here to begin with?

He tried to blame himself for what happened to his father, but that was just scapegoating himself.

I was the real reason.

Guilt was seeping through my muscles, making my heart hurt. My mind was running a million miles a minute.

I needed to tell him I was sorry.

We didn't come here to mend relationships, we came here to end our suffering. Rolling to my side, I heard the clank of a key and the door pop open softly.

Staying on my side, I decided I was going to let him come up on his own. I wasn't going to rush downstairs and smother him with apologies. Dante might still need to sit by himself to process all this shit and I had to just let him.

He'll come up when he's ready.

The sound of glass on the counter ricocheted off the walls and climbed the stairs, followed by the wet pour of liquid. His mouth hissed loudly as he took a sip of whatever he had used to fill the cup.

Scotch.

My fingers tapped anxiously under the blanket, waiting for him to stroll through the door. I was worried that he'd still be upset, that he was slowly realizing that all of this was due to me. I was the source of his problems, I was the reason his father had lost his life.

There was so much I wanted to say to him, more than he could possibly imagine or ever expect. But I had to temper what words spilled out of my mouth. Too much at once could turn my apology into another fight.

I didn't want to fight with him, I just wanted Dante to let me love him.

Deep down I ached for all of this to just be over. It was time to start our new life together. I wanted to go out on a date, go out to the movies, or just sit by the beach. I wanted to do things that any other person on this earth could just go and do.

I want normal.

His feet thudded up the stairs, step after step my heart leaped inside my chest. I was hoping he felt better, that he had a clear view of what he wanted and knew with everything in his heart that he still wanted me.