Page 17

seventeen

Alice

My pillowcase smells like Dalton. I close my eyes and breathe in the scent, imagining he’s here.

When we’re snuggling post-sex, I snuggle into his side and wrap my leg around him. He runs his fingertips over my bare skin, spelling out letters to make words on my back.

I can never figure out the letters, and we always end up laughing. If I don’t guess it right, he does it again, so it takes a long time for me to finally figure out the words, and they’re always random.

Indict. Bacon. Anachronism.

I smile at the memory of our most recent night together in this bed, when he spelled cat after I got low-key aggravated over anachronism . It’s sweet, really, because I told him I’ve always loved reading and words, and I think he tries to show me with some of the words that he’s more than the dumb jock perception a lot of people have of athletes.

He doesn’t need to do that, though. I already know much of who he is from our late-night whispered conversations. As the only male in the house for most of his childhood, he felt responsible for his mom and sister. He loves the outdoors and feels guilty about traveling by private plane with his team because of the pollution. If he didn’t play hockey, he’d make his living as a ranger in a national park.

I throw the covers aside and get out of bed, my one-minute post-alarm snooze session over. The only upside of being alone last night is that I got a decent night’s sleep. Not even my anxiety over Farrah finding out about Dalton could keep me up. After four nights in a row of minimal sleep, I crashed for seven hours.

After putting on my robe, I get my bathroom caddy and go to the bathroom. Every morning I came here after a night with Dalton, I’d grin at myself in the mirror, blissed out and a little stunned that this was happening to me and not Farrah.

Every second was incredible, and I’ll never forget it. But it can’t continue. I have to put my parents first.

I take a deep breath and look at my reflection in the mirror, my hands braced on the sink in front of me. It won’t be easy to see Dalton at sunrise yoga in a few minutes. In fact, every time I see him for the remainder of the filming will be hard.

But it’s better than how hard it would be to tell my parents I can’t pay for Dad’s extra therapies anymore. Better than them worrying about losing their home.

It’s a choose your hard situation , and I won’t be able to live with myself if I don’t make the right choice.

I dress in black shorts and a plain gray T-shirt, then slide on my sandals, grab my phone and head toward the kitchen. When I walk through the door that leads from the staff hallway to the kitchen, I see Dalton.

He’s leaning against the counter, a stainless water bottle raised to his mouth. His expression changes when he sees me, his intense gaze brushing over me like a soft caress.

“Morning,” he says softly.

“Good morning.”

My heart races as I walk over to one of the wide stainless refrigerators and take out two glass bottles of water. Just water for me and lavender lemon for Farrah.

I glance over at Dalton, my stomach flipping over the way he’s looking at me. A mix of hunger and uncertainty swirls in his eyes. I want to run to him, throw myself in his arms and press every inch of my body against his solid warmth.

We just look at each other for a few seconds, neither of us speaking. The spell is broken when my phone buzzes with an incoming text.

Farrah’s probably wondering where I’m at. I pick up my phone and read the message, my heart pounding harder with each word.

Mom: Dad and I are going to the hospital in an ambulance. The paramedics said he may have had another stroke or a seizure. I’ll text as soon as I know something. Love you.

“No,” I whisper, tears filling my eyes.

This is the cost of making enough money to help my parents. My dad, whose condition is already fragile, is on his way to the hospital, and I’m at a beach house in Malibu, completely helpless.

“What is it?” Dalton strides over to me and takes my hand.

“My dad.” I blink and the clouds clear from my vision as tears drop onto my cheeks. “My mom called an ambulance. They think he had another stroke or a seizure.”

“Babe.” His voice is soft and he gently squeezes my hand. “What can I do for you?”

My lips part and I shake my head, at a loss for words. But then, clarity comes.

“I’m going there. I need to be with my dad.”

He nods. “You want me to tell Farrah?”

My exhale is heavy. She’s not going to take this well. But I don’t care. I’m not asking her permission.

“I’ll do it, but thanks.”

“Want me to go throw some stuff in a bag for you?”

“It’s okay. I’m just going to take my bag and my phone. God, I hope I can get a flight there today.”

“You will.” He gives my hand a reassuring squeeze.

“Okay.” I take a steadying breath. “Let’s get this over.”

Dalton follows me to the usual yoga spot on the beach. As usual, Farrah is the first one there.

“It’s cold this morning,” she says in greeting. “Will you go grab me a hoodie?”

“I have to go.” I blurt it out, my stomach churning with worry.

“Go where?” She pinches her brows together, confused.

“Home. To Michigan. My dad is on the way to the hospital in an ambulance.”

Her expression morphs from confused to dismissive. “It’ll take you all day to get there. And you won’t be able to have your phone on in the air. You can call and check in on him from here.”

“No, I’m going.”

She scoffs. “I get that it’s upsetting, but is he dying or something? It might be nothing.”

I’ve never told Farrah about my family. Mostly because she’s never asked, but also because she had a sad childhood. Her father died when she was three and the man her mom remarried was an abusive alcoholic. Despite Farrah breezily telling everyone that she loves going back to Pella, Iowa, for the tulip festival, she never goes home. She hates her mother for what she was put through, and even without knowing the specifics, I understand why.

“Your schedule is on my laptop. Same password I use for everything.”

“Alice--”

Emotion clogs my throat. “I’m going. I’m not standing here and arguing about it until you understand. It’s not about you.”

She’s taken aback. I’ve never pushed back-- on anything.

Dalton clears his throat, looking at his phone screen. “I know a few people in LA. I’ll see what I can come up with for a chartered flight.”

“Why would you do that?” Farrah snaps. “ I’ll do it.”

I press my lips together firmly, shooting Dalton a quick, grateful look. Farrah is highly connected in LA. She knows directors, producers, actors and athletes. But she wouldn’t have offered to help me if Dalton hadn’t, and as badly as I want to get home, I would never ask.

“I’ll have something set up for you when you get to LAX,” Farrah says absently. “Where are you flying?”

I’ve been her assistant for more than three years, and she still doesn’t know my hometown.

“Detroit.” I clutch my phone in my hand, watching her fingers fly over the screen of her phone. “Thank you, Farrah.”

“Sure...Mick is asking if I want him to send a car here to take you to LAX.”

She was able to get a response in less than a minute at six a.m. I forget just how powerful Farrah is sometimes.

“No, I’ll take an Uber.”

“I’ll have Mick text you where to go.”

“Okay. Thank you.”

Even though I know it’s not who she is, I want Farrah to hug me. To tell me it’s going to be okay. I’m her center of balance every day, and today, I need that from her.

I turn to leave, knowing she’s already said everything she’s going to say about it. She’s one of the wealthiest, most sought-after actors in the world, but a part of Farrah will always be a little girl who wishes she had parents who loved her.

“I’ll keep in touch,” I call over my shoulder.

Dalton walks back toward the house with me, neither of us saying a word as JP approaches.

“Morning,” he says, grinning. “You guys forget something?”

“I’m going home for a family emergency,” I explain.

His smile slides away. “Sorry to hear that. Hope everything goes okay.”

“Thanks.”

Even JP, who hardly knows me, is showing more concern and compassion than Farrah did.

Dalton goes to my room with me, and as soon as we’re inside, he wraps his arms around me and holds me tightly.

“I’ll be thinking about you and your dad every minute,” he says.

The dam of emotion I’ve been holding back breaks, and I cry, pressing my face to his chest.

“I haven’t seen them since Christmas. And that was just for one day. What if he dies and I’m not there? I’ve been trying to do the right thing this whole time, and--”

He cuts me off, looking at me intently. “Don’t do this to yourself. You’ve done amazing. One step at a time today, okay? First step is packing anything you might need. I’ll call an Uber and then I have to run and grab something from my room. Until you’re there, just think about the next thing you have to do to get to him. Do that for me.”

I stand up straight and nod. Yes. Breaking it into steps will help me cope with how overwhelmed and helpless I feel right now.

Ten minutes later, Dalton is walking me out to the edge of the security perimeter.

“I have a car here,” I murmur. “I should have just taken it.”

“You shouldn’t be driving right now. An Uber driver can drop you off right at the door.”

I look up at him. “Thank you.”

“It’s gonna be okay.” His phone buzzes and he looks at it. “Driver’s one minute out.”

He carried my overnight bag out for me. He unzips it and slides a box inside.

“This is for you to open later. Don’t worry about it for now.”

That must be what he needed to get from his room. The sun isn’t up yet, so I risk a quick kiss, tears of gratitude and worry gathering in my eyes.

“Thank you, Dalton.”

He raises my hand to his lips and kisses the back of it. “Text me when you take off and land, okay? One step at a time.”

The car picking me up pulls to a stop next to us. I nod at Dalton. He opens a back-seat door for me and sets my bag in the car once I’m in.

“I’ll see you soon,” he says.

“Okay.”

He stands there, staying as the car pulls away. When I turn to look over my shoulder out the back window, he raises a hand, waving at me. I wave back, already missing his closeness.

I check my phone. No new texts from my mom. I type out a quick message letting her know I’m on my way. Then I look at my bag, my curiosity piqued.

What did he put in my bag? He told me to open it later, but I could use a distraction now.

The distinctive little blue box is from Tiffany. My heart pounds as I open it. There’s a folded piece of paper and a beautiful necklace, the pendant a flower shape made of diamonds. I run my finger over it, my lips parting in shock.

It’s beautiful. I carefully set the box beside me on the car seat and open the note.

Alice,

I wanted to get you a hundred dozen red roses. But since we’re keeping things quiet, I got you this instead. You’re so close to me right now, but way too far away.

I’m not a man who falls in and out of love easily. I’ve seen friends fall for women hard and fast, but it never happened for me, until you. I always wanted to keep women at arm’s length. But not you. I want to be where you are. If you want to wait, we’ll wait. I’m not giving up, though. Be with me, and I’ll care for you in every way.

Yours,

Dalton

Yours. I read the word again and again, smiling despite how worried I am about my dad. Then I read the whole thing again and again after that. He’s mine . And in my heart, I’m his. Now that I know what this feels like, I can’t settle for something average, not in a month, not in a decade.

I don’t know what’s going to happen, but if I can’t have Dalton, I don’t want anyone.