Page 12 of Secrets That Bind Us

Dean

Present Day

The pounding in my head matches the pounding on my front door.

Bear, my boxer-pit mix, isn’t helping with his barking.

It’s been six weeks since I saw Verity coming out of her mother’s house.

Three weeks since I saw her standing outside The Olde Café with Zoey and Emory.

And two days since I followed her around the furniture shop in the newer parts of town, keeping my distance, just watching her.

My heart ached when she seemed to feel my presence looming over her, turning back, but I’d hide behind a pillar or bookshelf.

I’m almost thirty-three years old, hiding behind pillars like a boy with a crush.

Except now I’m a man, still crushing on– and in love with– her, dying to get to know this new version of her.

She’s even more beautiful now. She had her hair down and loose around her shoulders, wearing a tank top and mom shorts.

Her hips flare out even more now, rounder, probably from having kids.

I love them. Her smile is devastating. When she smiled at the clerk to put in her order, I grew angry, jealous she was smiling at the kid.

But I let it go, ‘cause it wasn’t my smile– the one she reserved just for me.

Also, the damn kid couldn’t be more than seventeen.

God, she made my heart ache. Every time I thought about just casually bumping into her, it seemed the old church hens made it to her first. By the time I grew the balls to finally approach her, she was walking out.

She turned when someone called her name, and I swear she saw me, because she ducked and ran out to her SUV.

“I’m coming!” I gripe at the person knocking on my door at– I look at my watch– not even eight on a Saturday morning. Bear growls as soon as I open the door, my mood further souring at who’s on the other side. “What?”

“So you are alive.” Lacy retorts, sucking deeply on a cigarette, the tip of it glowing orange.

I roll my eyes. Goddammit. “Look, Lace-“

She scoffs, rolls her blue eyes, and flips her blonde hair over her shoulder. “Don’t bother. This is it, huh? String me along for the last year, but she’s here now. She’s back, so I’m irrelevant. Not even a text? Just ghosted me.”

“Stringing you along? It’s been two years .

We both knew what it was. I never said I wanted anything other than stress relief and you agreed.

You did your part, I did mine. Go home, Lace.

It’s been two years .” I reiterate so she makes sure how pathetic that is.

“And quit talking to people about me. We had sex twice . Two years ago.” When she opens her mouth to argue, I end it with “It’s pretty fucking pathetic for you to still be sniffing around. ”

One drunken night . One drunken night turned into two, where I sporadically fucked her over the span of six months after drinking too much.

It wasn’t a relationship. It was fucking.

In the back of the building by the fucking dumpster – both times.

It meant absolutely nothing. That was it.

I didn’t seek her out. I didn’t ask to meet up.

I sure as hell didn’t tell her I wanted more.

She never came over. I never went to her place.

She was just there – a warm hole to sink into behind a building by a dumpster.

All because she didn’t have brown hair to tangle in my fingers, or caramel eyes, or thick, wide hips for me to grab onto.

She was just there.

I never fucked her face to face. As much as Lacy tried, I never even kissed her once.

I haven’t kissed anyone since the last time I kissed Verity.

Because kissing someone else felt wrong.

Like I was betraying her. Well, except for that one time, but that one time, I allowed myself to pretend.

I allowed myself to look into brown eyes, grip wide hips, wrap brown hair around my wrist and just…

pretend it was Verity.A part of me feels like it was her.

Lacy throws down the half smoked square on my front step and stomps on it angrily.

“Whatever. I’m late for yoga. You know, Emory said she’s only gonna be here for a year.

If that. So when she breaks your heart and leaves again, to her big fancy house in a different state, thousands of miles away, don’t come crying to me. ”

“Get off my property before I arrest you for trespassing.” I grumble, then shut the door in her face. I hear her call me a stupid motherfucker from the other side.

I head back to my bedroom and flop back on the bed, only to rub my temples. Except my wheels start turning.

A year.

I have one year to make her mine again.

And this time, I won’t fuck it up.