Page 76 of Secrets That Bind Us

Dean

Age Twenty-Four

Five Months Later

“NOTHING IS FINE. EVERYTHING IS ON FIRE.”

I grimace, swallowing down the banana I was eating, and step aside to let in a frustrated Evan and a very upset Zoey in from the heat. “What happened?”

Zoey begins pacing my entire living room, hand on her hip. “Micah just called us. He’s proposing to Verity, and he wants us to be there.”

My stomach swoops and drops through the hardwood I recently installed. Shit . “What are we gonna do?”

Zoey stops pacing, looks at me, then begins pacing again.

“You have to show up. You have to stop it from happening. Or something. It’s gonna be a yacht party.

He’s been drinking a lot. Like the type of drinking that’s worrying.

Maybe you can slip something into his drink before he proposes so he doesn’t do it. ”

“He wouldn’t take a drink from me.”

“What if you dress up like a waiter?”

One Month Later

I’m in a fucking tux.

The itchiest fucking tux I’ve ever rented, and the fucking pants are too small. I’ve been squatting too much, I think. I grew my hair and my beard out, too. So I feel fucking weird. I can do scruff. I just hate having an entire beard. Fuck. This is crazy. This better fucking work.

I’ve learned this is not Micah’s and Verity’s yacht, but a friend of theirs.

Zoey and Evan help me sneak onto the damn thing when the sun goes down.

I have GHB I stole from evidence in my pocket, but it doesn’t seem like I need to do much.

Micah has been sipping on everything he can get his hands on since before the guests have started to arrive.

He’s always been a Nervous little Nancy.

Always puked his guts out before every game.

But I’m nervous as fuck, too.

I stay in the shadows watching.

I put three drops of the shit I stole– and had to drive all the fucking way to New York for instead of fly because I knew TSA would search me– into three flutes of champagne and head his way with my head down.

He gulps down the champagne immediately.

I throw the rest of the flutes into the black ocean water that glitters with each wave, due to the lights reflecting off the water that’s getting choppy.

I watch when the band quiets, and he gets on one knee in front of what feels like a hundred people.

The look on her face is of pure embarrassment and shock.

She hates this. She blinks down at him– at the ring– and plasters on a smile that says she’s been put on the spot.

So she says yes. Not because she wants to-- because she feels obligated .

She’s not gonna marry him.

She’s gonna call it off as soon as they’re off the boat.

After the applause ends, Micah goes to the side of the boat and faces the ocean, another fucking flute of champagne in his hand.

He’s not even celebrating with Verity, but he looks smug as fuck.

It’s then that a rough wave hits, and he leans over the edge to vomit, probably finally starting to feel the effects of the GHB.

He leans a little too close over the railing, and right when I think he’s gonna fall overboard, I reach out and grab him by the back of his jacket and tug him back.

Not like this. It’s not gonna happen like this. I may regret it later, but I won't kill him.

Someone screams just as I let him drop back over the deck.

I keep my head down, catching his beady stare before he passes out, and walk away from the situation.

I get off of the boat, not wanting this to be how Verity sees me– for the first time in six years.

Not on a boat full of people. This wasn’t the right time.

I flee. I take the rental car back to the company and hop on a plane.

Because no fucking way Verity would marry a fucking drunk like that.

I saw it in her eyes.

TWO MONTHS LATER

“We’re ‘announcing’ the re-engagement party for two months from now.” Zoey says while swallowing her slice of pizza. “This time, it’s going to be a costume party since it’ll be so close to Halloween. You can wear a mask, Dean. Approach her this way. Have a dance. Talk to her.”

I shake my head, not having touched the pizza in front of me she ordered before I got here. “What’s the point? She never called the engagement off.”

Zoey shakes her head. “She’s having doubts.

I told her to come down for the party. And of course, due to unofficially-officially being my Maid of Honor, she’s gonna be there.

We’re having the party at the old Majestic in Waco.

So I know she’ll be there. It’s an hour away.

A safe distance away from Adelaide. We’ll have brunch in the morning.

And knowing her, she’ll leave as soon as it’s done.

” She shakes her head, looking so distraught.

I can feel her sadness rolling off of her in waves.

“This has to work, Dean. I miss her so fucking much. I know I get to see her every few months, but I feel like I’m still missing so much.

She’s my best friend, but she’s closer to me than my own sister. ”

“You don't have a sister.”

She rolls her hazel eyes at me. “What I imagine having a sister would be like.”

I look down at the pizza sitting between us, then out the window at the empty restaurant where Verity and I had our first official date.

Every memory of holding her hand runs through my mind.

Every giggle. Every time we walked these streets, I'd twirl her just so she’d smile up at me and push her glasses up her nose in that Verity way I loved.

The good memories haunt me more than the bad ones. “One last time, then.”

Zoey swallows her bite of pizza. “Not the last time, Dean.”

“Zoey,” I lean forward and lower my voice so the other gossiping patrons won’t overhear us.

I’m actually surprised Zoey’s kept hush about all of this, too.

She’s always been a loudmouth. I didn’t dislike her– I disliked that she had the reckless sense to talk about things that weren’t anyone else’s business to hear at unfortunate times.

“I haven't had sex since she left. I’m a fucking asshole to everyone and anyone that even tries to talk to me. I’m not living a life because I’m stuck in the past. Verity always said this town trapped people here, and she’s right.

I’m barely coasting through this life. This is no way for anyone to live. I deserve peace, too.”

She sinks in the booth and looks out the window. “Not true. You’re nice to the kids you coach.” Of course, that’s the thing she concentrates on.

“They’re kids.” I shrug. “If she decides to live her life with him, and really make a life with him, then I have to let that happen for her.”

Hazel eyes snap back to mine. “So what, you’re gonna give up?”

It’s something I’ve been pondering over the last few months.

“She’ll come back to me when she’s ready.

They won’t last long at all. I told her a long time ago not to marry him.

She won’t be happy with him. And truth be told, Zoey, I’m more worried about meeting my daughter than anything.

I will always love Verity. And I know her.

I know it’ll take time for her to bring Savvy around me. ”

Zoey hums. “How do you know we call her that?”

I lift a shoulder and let it drop. “That’s what I would call her.”

She nods, and I finally pick a slice of pizza, forcing myself to eat.

TWO MONTHS LATER

I feel her before I even see her, and my heart rate drops, music thrumming in my ears like low humming vibrations.

Like there’s a string tied to me, being pulled into her orbit.

She looks elegant and so fucking beautiful, my heart feels like waves tumbling to shore.

She’s wearing an incredible dress that glitters every time she moves.

It’s tight on her lush body, showing off every dangerous curve she’s developed due to time and motherhood.

My palms itch to feel her flesh beneath them.

Her hair is down in these gorgeous chocolate waves, and she’s wearing a black, satin mask that hides her eyes from me.

She drinks white wine. As soon as it’s empty, it’s refilled.

Her eyes scan the room, bouncing from person to person.

I go to the bar and order a glass of whiskey. Then another. And one more tumbler full of liquid courage. By the time she spots me, her eyes are glassy, and she looks like she’s been crying. “Here for the bride or the groom?”

“Both. They’re old friends of mine” She smiles weakly. I frown. She lost her accent. “You?”

Is she so smashed she doesn’t recognize me? Is this Verity? It has to be. It’s the pull.

She orders a fourth glass of wine, and I order another whiskey. “Same. Old friends.”

She gulps down the wine and wipes at her lip where some dribbled. “Care to dance?”

Hell fucking yeah I care. I slam back the whiskey and take her hand, leading her to the dance floor that’s full of our old classmates and new friends Zoey and Evan have made throughout the years.

The song is an old hip hop song from our youth, and she gyrates on me, letting her head fall back against my chest, grabbing my hands and putting them on her hips.

I slide my hands everywhere, growing hard against her ass.

Fuck, I’m gonna blow my load right here.

The whiskey is getting to me, too. Fuck, I should’ve controlled myself.

After the song, we grab one more drink by the bar to cool down. It goes down like water.

“I don’t normally do this, but I really need to forget some things, and I really need you to fuck me.”

And who am I to deny her?

“I don’t normally do this, but I really need to fuck you.” I reply.

And so off we go.

Up the elevator.

To my room.

Where the kiss is as electric as the first time.

“God, you smell like him.”

I’m so ready to take off my mask, to tell her it’s me, but she shakes her head at me, unwilling to let me drop the facade, and so I oblige her.

Whatever she says to me, I say to her, hoping she recognizes the sound of my voice.

Anything. But when my clothes are off, I realize she wouldn’t.

I’ve made too many changes. I have scars now.

Tattoos. Packed on more mass and muscle.

Besides, it's too dark. I'm not the same man I was at eighteen and thank God for that.

I fuck my woman over and over, making her scream in every position I can think of.

I fall asleep with her in my arms-- mask still on.

When I wake up, she’s gone.

I go downstairs and join the hungover couple for brunch, swallowing down bile. “Fuck, I haven’t drank that much in years.”

They grumble over their mimosas.

“Where’s Verity?”

Zoey sighs. “She’s gone.”

My brows furrow. “What do you mean?”

“I mean she left last night. Slipped away and went home. Said something about a deadline or something. But she left before midnight.”

I shake my head. “No. That's not right. We had sex last night. She fell asleep in my arms. I was…” I trail off. What time was it last night? Did I sleep with her? Oh fuck. But it felt like her. Every moan was hers. It had to be her.

Evan sighs this time. “I don’t think it was her, man. I’m sorry.”

I feel depleted.

THREE MONTHS LATER

I show up at Zoey’s after a vague WE NEED TO TALK message. She’s sitting on her teal bohemian couch, tears in her eyes.

I take a breath to compose myself. A crying Zoey is very bad news.

I stand there as Evan rubs at her back. “What’s… what is it? Is everything okay?”

Zoey shakes her head slowly. “They’re eloping.”

Whoosh whoosh whoosh.

My soul feels like it’s tumbling out of me as blood pounds in my ears.I’m gonna be fucking sick.

“What? No. This can’t happen. No, I’ll… I'll go. I’ll stop the wedding.”

Zoey erupts again, crying harder, sobbing so hard her entire body is shaking.

Evan frowns and shakes his head softly. “You can’t Dean, she’s… Verity’s pregnant.”

My heart crashes through the floorboards under my feet and sinks into the ground beneath me.

And yet that string in my rib cage, feels like it’s being tugged harder .