“Life without you was a series of pros and cons. Risks and rewards. Black and white with very few shades of gray. But then you came back and flipped a switch inside me, flooding my world with color after a ten-year blackout, and I don’t plan on giving that up. Not now. Not ever.”
Tears pool near her lash line.
“You might not believe my words now, but I won’t stop until you do. So go ahead and try to push me away, but you already know based on our history that I will stop at nothing to prove you wrong.”
CHAPTER FORTY-FIVE
Julian
The trip to Dahlia’s is a quiet one. She spends most of it staring out the window, while I stay focused on the road. Despite the urge to check in with her, I hold back and stay silent, not wanting to add to her distress.
It’s not until I pull up to her house that she finally speaks up, surprising me.
“I’m sorry.”
I blink rapidly. “What are you—”
“I know you’re a good guy—possibly the best guy I’ve ever met—even if you drive me crazy.” She twists one of her rings. “Your list. God. I can’t believe you spent over a decade working on that.”
“Twelve years, but who’s counting?”
Her chin quivers. “Maybe if things were different for me, we could—”
“Stop.”
“But—”
“No. I don’t want to hear whatever excuse you spent the whole drive coming up with.”
Her muscles tighten. “You can’t ignore the obvious.”
“Glad we’re finally on the same page.”
She glances away.
“What do you need?” I ask.
“Time? Some food and a good night’s rest? Honestly, I can barely think straight, let alone talk when I’m this exhausted.”
“Okay.” I can give her that…for a day at least.
Her shoulders fall from her heavy sigh.
I grab her hand and kiss the back of it. “Everything will be okay.”
“So you say.”
“Only because I won’t stop until it is.”
She spares me one last glance before hopping out of my truck and taking off for her front door.
I don’t remember the drive to my house because I spent the entirety of it lost in my own thoughts, sorting through all the things I need to figure out.
Silence greets me like a funeral march as I enter my house and head toward my kitchen to heat up some food. I make it through a few bites before my phone buzzes against the marble counter with a new message from Lily in the Mu?oz-Lopez group chat.
LILY
From lovebirds to jailbirds in a single week.
She attaches a photo of Dahlia and me in the holding cell. Rosa sends a link to schedule a confession session with Father Anthony, while my mother follows up with a heart-eyed GIF and a text.
MA
Like Bonnie and Clyde.
RAFA
They both died in a shootout.
MA
Together.
RAFA
Remind me to never fall in love.
I reply, telling everyone to delete the photo from their phones and in the chat before taking off toward the station to pay Roberts a second visit tonight.
“Back so soon?” Roberts leans against the counter.
“How many people did you send the photo to?”
“Just Lily.”
“Delete it from your phone.”
“I plan on it once the reporter gets back to me with a price for the photo.”
“How much are you asking for it?” I snap.
“Ten grand.”
I rip a sticky note off the top of the pack and pass it to him. “Give me your number, and I’ll have the money transferred in an hour.”
His brows jump. “You’re not going to bother negotiating?”
I tap on the sticky note. “Your number.”
“Make it twelve thousand.”
“I’ll drop my offer to seven if you don’t stop talking.”
His smile falls as he scribbles across the paper before passing it to me.
I tuck his number into the inner pocket of my coat. “Delete it.”
“Now?”
I tap my shoe against the floor. He sighs as he pulls out his phone and walks me through the process of deleting the evidence.
As soon as he is finished, I walk out of the station, text Dahlia about how I took care of the photo, and head back to my house. By the time I make it inside, Dahlia still hasn’t answered the group chat or my single text, which is unlike her.
My dinner sits in my stomach like a boulder as I take a shower and climb into bed.
You’re going to find a way to make everything work out, I chant to myself in the dark.
I just need to figure out how.
Dahlia spends most of the next morning hiding in her office, so I don’t get a chance to see her until she shows up for the team meeting scheduled over a week ago.
Originally, I considered handling my affairs with my team in private, but Dahlia’s lack of trust and attempts at avoiding me pose a unique challenge I need to overcome.
Showing Dahlia that I plan on sticking around will require a lot more than promising her I’ll move to San Francisco. I need to make some necessary changes to my life, starting with the one thing I’ve been putting off for years.
Dahlia mentally checked out of the discussion twenty minutes ago, once Ryder, Mario, and I began reviewing logistical issues about the Lake Aurora remodel. She spends the time sketching designs for her décor line, and I find myself getting distracted a few times by her skills.
“Are we all good here?” Mario asks.
“Yeah.” I glance at Ryder. “Can you stick around once Mario leaves?”
He nods.
Dahlia makes one last change to her design before she tucks her tablet beneath her arm and rises from her chair.
“I need you to stay,” I tell her.
Her face pinches with confusion as she retakes her seat.
“See you all next week.” Mario tips his chin before walking out of the conference room.
“What’s up?” Ryder asks.
I sit back down. “I’ve been thinking…”
Dahlia’s chair creaks as she places her elbows on the table and leans forward.
My project manager tucks a pencil behind his ear. “About?”
I clear my throat. “I need some help.”
Her eyes widen.
“Whatever you need, I’m your man.” He doesn’t hesitate, which catches me by surprise.
“You don’t know what I’m about to ask of you.”
“Doesn’t matter. You’ve done a lot for me, so I’m up for whatever.”
I blink. Dahlia seems equally shocked as her gaze bounces between the two of us.
Ryder continues, “Before you hired me, I was struggling with returning to civilian life after my last tour. When I interviewed for the job, I was living out of my car and struggling with PTSD.”
I hide my flinch. “I didn’t realize it was that bad.”
Dahlia reaches out to give his hand a squeeze before she sinks back into her chair.
“You’re not the only proud man in town, boss,” he says with a small smile.
“No, but he is the proudest,” Dahlia says.
I shoot her a stern look.
Ryder’s soft laugh doesn’t match his harsh features. “I owe you a lot, so if you want my help, I’m more than happy to offer it.”
Dahlia’s bottom lip trembles.
Shit.
I battle between shyness and gratitude before landing somewhere in the middle. “You don’t owe me anything.”
“Do you want my help or not?” he asks.
“His asking is evidence enough.” The expression on Dahlia’s face is worth every ounce of pride I forfeit as I do the one thing I trained myself to avoid.
“Yeah, I want your help.” My shoulders loosen as the tension drains from my body.