Page 27 of Best In Class (Savannah's Best #7)

Dom

“ T he fuck, Lev. You should have told me right away.” I’m all but running to my car as I yell at my friend. He waited a whole day to tell me what went down at the board meeting, which explains why I can’t get a hold of my girl.

He puts a hand to my chest and stops me. “I’m Paul, got it?”

I stop and stare at him like he’s lost his mind.

“I’m Paul, and this is between y’all! Seriously, man . She’s pissed with me because I didn’t tell her. You’re pissed with me because I told you too late. You should’ve told her from the start what Dad did. This is on you !” Lev stepped back, pissed as well.

“I don’t got time for this, Lev.” I’m serious. I need to get to Luna. She must be angry as hell. So angry that she didn’t find me and knee me in the nuts.

Lev shook his head in disgust and left me to it .

I couldn’t ask Mama how Luna was because Mama was in Augusta for the weekend.

I can’t get a hold of Luna. No surprise there.

I get to her place, and her housekeeper tells me she’s not home.

She also doesn’t know where she is.

I call everyone , but only Nova picks up the phone.

“What?”

“Where’s Luna?’

“Why do you care?”

Okay, so she knows.

“Nova—”

“Since I have you on the phone and, maybe this way I won’t have to see your face on Monday, I want you to know that Luna’s taking a few days and won’t be around all of next week.”

She hangs up on me, and when I call again, I get voicemail.

She’s taking time off? The thought sends a cold rush through me.

She doesn’t do that. This is Luna. The toughest woman I know. She doesn’t disappear—she takes charge. She leads. She works when she’s sick, sad, furious. So, when she’s just gone, I know I have fucked up beyond measure.

I think about where she could be, and call Noah.

“Yeah.”

“She there?”

“Who’s calling you?” I hear Stella’s voice.

“Dom,” Noah says .

“You couldn’t lie?” I complain.

“ To my wife ?” he asks, incredulous. “Fuck no.”

Stella snatches the phone away from her husband. “You son of a bitch.”

“I’m coming over.”

“You wanna risk that?” she threatens.

“Yes.”

I don’t waste time and drive straight through to Stella and Noah’s place.

A seething Stella opens the front door. “You unbelievable idiot.”

“She okay?”

“What do you think?”

“Look—”

She punches me.

She punches me , in the gut. Stella hits me …with her fist.

Unbelievable!

She doesn’t do any damage but I’m shocked. I rub my belly where she struck.

Noah whistles. “I showed our sex tape to her father, and she never hit me.”

Stella turns to glare at her husband. “There’s still time.”

He makes kissy sounds at her, and she growls.

I take the opportunity to step inside their house and shut the door behind me. I look around to find evidence of Luna’s presence.

“How pissed is she?” I ask.

They both give me a quizzical look .

“She’s outside.” Noah jerks his thumb to Stella’s beautiful garden. “In the gazebo.”

“She’s drinking,” Stella adds.

“What?” My heart thunders. Luna likes a drink, but she doesn’t get drunk.

“Iced tea,” Stella replies acidly.

I sigh in relief. Drunk Luna is not a pretty sight. There’s anger. There are discussions about life and love. There’s a lot of sarcasm. There is snark. There is…well, it’s a shitshow.

“Long Island Iced Tea,” Noah corrects his wife.

“Fuck! You know better than to let her drink,” I thunder at Stella.

She gives me a withering look. “It was that or have her sedated. She was a mess. She was…crying. Falling apart. I…I had to do something. Drunk Luna is much better than Sad Luna.”

My stomach drops.

“How could you not tell her, Dom?” Stella marches further inside the house. I follow, as does Noah.

Their house is open-plan, with lots of light and windows to the garden. The gazebo is in a corner, and I can’t see it from the kitchen-dining-living space.

“I…I didn’t know how to.”

“That’s pretty thin brew, man.” Noah looks at me with pity.

“Her father?—”

“I know, Dom,” Stella cuts me off, voice shaking. “We all knew he was a bastard, but Luna spent years thinking you didn’t love her. That you chose to leave. And you let her believe that because—pride? Shame?”

I try to speak, but suddenly my throat won’t cooperate.

“You should’ve told her the minute you came back…hell, you should’ve told her ten years ago,” she continues. “You don’t get to rebuild something while hiding the wreckage underneath.”

I close my eyes and roll my neck to gather myself. “It felt like a pathetic excuse for being a coward, Stella. It felt like I was passing the blame.”

“You were passing the blame,” Stella snaps. “But that doesn’t mean she didn’t deserve the truth.”

“I know.”

She shakes her head, more disappointed than angry—and somehow that’s worse. “Don’t come crying to me when she doesn’t let you back in.”

I don’t say anything. There isn’t much to say, because I’m already crying, even if she can’t see it, even if I’m not showing it.

I step outside, each footfall heavier than the last.

I find Luna in the gazebo. Her knees drawn up, her face half-hidden by a curtain of hair, a glass dangling loosely from her hand.

My heart twists.

“Luna,” I say softly, careful not to startle her.

She doesn’t look at me. Doesn’t say anything.

I step closer. “I’m sorry.”

Still nothing .

So I keep going, until I’m standing at the edge of the gazebo, the wooden steps between us like a moat.

“I should’ve told you the moment I came back.” I let out a long exhale. “Hell, I should’ve told you then and never left. But I was scared and ashamed and young and stupid.”

She finally lifts her head to look at me. Her eyes are glassy, rimmed red, her mouth a tight, brittle line. “You hurt me. You let him hurt me.”

Her voice is cracked, raw.

Of all the accusations, this is the one that I feared the most.

“Yes.” The word is a sob. But, hell, she’s already crying, I can’t start bawling, too. One of us deserves to break down, and that’s her.

“You let me believe you didn’t love me.” She laughs, but it’s a sharp, humorless sound.

“I’ve always loved you. I still love you. I will always love you.”

She sniffles. “This is your definition of love? Lying to me?”

“I was a coward.”

“Still are,” she flings at me.

She drains her glass and sets it next to a pitcher that is half fucking empty.

What the fuck was Stella thinking making her a Long Island Iced Tea?

“So…who was the girl?”

I walk up the steps of the gazebo, and sit on the same bench as her, but at the edge of it. I want to be close but far enough so she doesn’t get spooked.

“A classmate. I told her…I told her you were being clingy, and she said she’d help out.”

“Wow! The web you wove.”

I nod. “After you left, she…said she’d never seen a person as broken as you. She slapped me. Didn’t talk to me again.”

“I should send her a thank-you fruit basket. Years late, but hell, so the fuck are you.”

Yeah! The alcohol was making her extra belligerent, and as this conversation progressed, I’d probably get the pitcher of iced tea thrown at me.

“I fucked up, Luna. I…got scared.”

She wags a finger at me. “But it was more than that.”

“Yes. I wanted to be worthy of you.”

She rolls her eyes and refills her glass. I pick up the pitcher and sniff it.

Yeah, it’s loaded!

“And you thought you’d be that by cheating on me?”

I lower my gaze and shake my head. I take a moment to try and figure out how to tell what I have to; and when I decide I’ll just go with the truth, I look her in the eye.

“I wasn’t thinking. Lev called to tell me you were on your way?—”

“I’m going to castrate that asshole.”

She doesn’t sound drunk at all .

All that anger inside her is burning the alcohol right off!

“I knew that your father finding out you came to see me would mean he’d fire Mama. I couldn’t take care of her and go to school. I thought, the hell with it, I’ll quit school, but then…then I’d never be fit for you.”

“I could’ve paid for your school. I had access to the first quarter of my trust fund. Lev could’ve paid, and?—”

“Wanted to do it myself, Luna,” I interrupted her, heated. “Didn’t want my girlfriend to pay for me. Okay?”

“Oh, I get it.” Her lips curl into a smirk. Her eyes are ablaze with rage. “You’d rather have your girlfriend think you’re cheating on her rather than?—”

“I was twenty-fucking-one years old, Luna. I got scared.”

“And now you want to rewrite history because it’s convenient?” she challenges.

“No. I want to rewrite our future,” I say gently. “But I know I can’t ask for that if I don’t give you everything. So I will. Whatever you want to know, I’ll tell you.”

She shakes her head, eyes shimmering. “You say that, but the truth never comes easy with you, Dom. You hold it back like it costs something.”

“It has cost me,” I growl. “You. Us.”

Her jaw clenches. “And what do you think hearing this now does to me? You don’t get to tell me you love me while still feeding me half-truths and omissions. That’s not love. That’s manipulation.”

“I love you,” I roar in frustration. “I love you so much and I’m so fuckin’ afraid of losing you.”

I rise and pace the gazebo. “I’ve been…God! I hate your fucking father.”

“Join the club!” She yells at me. “You know, I was scared that I’d end up like my mother with you? That I’d put up with you having women on the side and have to live on Xanax. But now I don’t even know what to think. Dad lies to Mama, yes, but he actually cheats on her.”

“I should get points for not cheating on you, don’t you?—”

Her glass of iced tea crashes at my feet, making my sneakers wet. Well, at least she can’t drink anymore.

No more glasses.

I look at the pitcher warily. She could go direct.

“I love you,” she spits the words out like they hurt, and maybe they do. “I have always loved you. And it’s the worst part of me, Dom. Because no matter how many times you break my heart, I keep waiting for you to stop.”

My knees nearly give out. Her pain is a physical thing—I can feel it beating against my chest like wings trapped in a cage.

I go to her, go to my knees, take her hands in mine. “I’m not leaving. Not this time.”

“We’re toxic. We keep hurting one another.”

“We give more love than pain.”

“Oh my God! Next, you’ll be quoting Tennyson.”

Since it’ll probably get a reaction from her and right now, I want her mad, throwing things, yelling, anything but crying—I go for it.

“‘ ’Tis better to have loved and lost ,’” I recite, watching her eyes narrow, “‘ than never to have loved at all .’”

She scoffs and looks away. “Get lost, Dom.”

“No fucking way.” I don’t let her pull her hands from mine. “I’m not going to walk away, and I’m not going to let you walk away, either. You can scream, curse, drink every damn bottle Stella owns—but I’m sitting right here.”

I stand up and lower myself beside her on the bench.

She doesn’t push me away, but she doesn’t lean in, either. She lets me hold her hands.

I’m comforting her, yes, but I’m also shackling her to me the best I can.

Then, quietly, almost imperceptibly, she begins to cry.

Silent tears at first, then a shuddering breath, and then a sob that rips through her like a crack in the earth.

Fuck!

“Baby, do you want another drink?” I pull her into my arms, and this time, she lets me.

She shakes her head. “Stella didn’t add a lot of alcohol, just a little bourbon.”

I look at the pitcher skeptically. I smelled the tea, and it wasn’t a little bourbon. I guess Luna’s alcohol tolerance is higher than mine.

She clutches my shirt, fists trembling, burying her face against my chest like she’s trying to disappear. I press my lips to the top of her head, breathing her in, my own throat aching.

“I’m sorry,” I murmur again and again, until the words lose meaning, but maybe still carry weight. “You’re going to be okay. I’m going to take care of you.”

Because this isn’t the kind of pain that goes away with promises.

But it is the kind that asks you to stay, to witness it, to carry it together.