He may as well have slapped her. Southern boys did not disrespect their mamas in such a way.
Pain slashed across Patricia’s face. “I’ll walk.”
“Suit yourself,” he said.
Only Louella followed Patricia to the door. When she closed it behind her, the dog started whining.
Swallowing hard, I looked at Dylan.
“I’m going for a walk,” he said, throwing open the back door and storming out. It slammed behind him.
I turned to face Delia. “What in the hell just happened?”
She drew in a deep breath. “A battle of wills. I think you won.”
Walking over to kitchen window, I peered out at Dylan’s retreating form. “I don’t know about that. I think we all might have lost.”
Chapter Nineteen
Muted orange light pooled under the window shades early the next morning. At barely seven, it was almost sunrise, but long past when I should have been up and about since I had a busy day ahead.
I’d been leery of leaving Dylan’s side. He’d come in late, long past midnight, and had been lying stone-still beside me since then.
Poly crept up the bed and head-butted my face. I’d been forgiven for the moment, since no ghosts, no dogs, and no Patricia were around. Jenny Jane had gone home with Delia, Louella was downstairs, and I had no idea where Patricia was but figured she was never going to step foot in my house again, so that was bound to make the cats happy.
It should have made me happy, too. But it didn’t.
I’d wanted to make things right with Patricia. I never for a moment believed that we’d ever become friends, but I thought we could be civil.
We were grown women. Why couldn’t we just get along for Dylan’s sake?
It shouldn’t have come to what happened last night, putting him in the position to make a choice between us. Admittedly, I had thrown my own barbs Patricia’s way a time or two or twenty, but almost always in retribution.
I could have done better.
I should have done better.
Then I shook my head.
I’d tried. Several times over the years, I’d tried. And always ended up on her bad side.
At this point, I was beginning to question whether she had a good side.
I patted Poly’s head while watching the orange glow grow brighter and feeling my heart ache.
Roly was glued to Dylan’s side, where she normally slept when he stayed over. When she realized Poly was getting attention that she wasn’t, she climbed over Dylan’s chest to me and began kneading my stomach. She purred as I scratched her chin.
Dylan stirred and stretched his arms over his head. Sleepily, he blinked his eyes, squinted at the clock, and groaned.
At the noise, Roly abandoned me and started kneading Dylan’s arm. She was head over heels for him.
I knew the feeling.
Poly plopped next to me, his tail swishing. I rolled to my side and threaded my fingers into Dylan’s hair. After a moment, he caught my hand and brought it to his lips.
“I’m sorry,” he said softly.
“For what?” I asked. “You didn’t do anything wrong. I’m sorry.”
“For what?” he asked, rolling onto his side, too, facing me. “You didn’t do anything wrong.”
“I shouldn’t have pushed your mama so much, but I wanted answers, and I knew she was lying.”
“I shouldn’t have brought her here. She’s stressed-out right now, and when she’s stressed, she attacks. I thought if she knew you were trying to help her . . .” He dragged a hand down his face.
“She’s never going to like me, Dylan,” I said, laying my heart on the line. “She wants what’s best for you, and she doesn’t think I’m it, so she’s always going to fight against me being in your life.”
“I’m a grown man. I can decide on my own who’s best for me. And that’s you. It’s always been you.”
I blinked back emotion. “I don’t like knowing that I’m causing trouble between the two of you.”
He reached out, cupped my face. “It’s been a long time coming. I should have taken a stand ages ago, but I always believed she’d come around and warm up to you. If she wants me to choose between the two of you, I’m not going to do it. She has to learn that it doesn’t have to be one or the other. My heart is big enough for the both of you.”
I didn’t think he quite realized that last night he hadn’t just taken a stand, as he thought. He had made a choice. He’d stayed with me.
In his mama’s eyes, he chose me over her.
Game over. The end.
“But your mama . . .”
“She can choose what she wishes to choose, but I won’t have her coming between us again. We suffered too long without each other and worked too hard to get back to where we are now. I won’t lose you again. My mother will just have to accept that. And if she doesn’t, she’ll have to live with the knowledge that the choice was hers.”
He was still angry with her—it resonated with each word he spoke.
My stomach churned. I wanted to fix all this but I didn’t know how. As a healer, it was a devastating realization. But as someone who loved Dylan, it was heartbreaking.