He drove back home, feeling curiously empty. Her scent drifted from his skin, the spicy musk of sandalwood. Her taste lingered on his tongue. His chest tingled from the scratch of her nails.
He drank the rest of the whiskey with the desperate intention of forgetting. Sickness formed inside him, but he wasn’t sure if it was the result of his actions or of realizing he’d never hold her again. Finally he passed out, fully dressed on his bed, hand still clutching the bottle.
But he dreamed.
The familiar nightmare took hold, but this time it was different.
It began the same. His mother chased him playfully down the road, her yellow dress flapping in the breeze. Suddenly she stopped, gazing at the strange car parked before her. The man got out and held out his hand. She took it. Climbed into the car. And drove off.
Dalton chased her down the road, calling her name, and the car burst into flames. Screaming and crying, her familiar face pressed against the window amid the fire. Dalton waited for her to mouth the words in her final moments, caught halfway to wakefulness, forced to watch the last, devastating scene.
Suddenly, his mother faded away.
Raven was in the car.
Her beautiful, inky hair surrounded her face in messy waves. Those huge dark eyes begged him from behind the barrier of the glass, her palms pressed to the window in one last plea.
I’m sorry . . .
The car exploded.
Dalton woke up, gut twisted with nausea. He ran to the bathroom, vomited violently, then crawled back into bed.
He didn’t go back to sleep.
The nightmare came to Raven that night.
This time, when the car exploded and she tried to run, the woman’s face was no longer there with her father, trapping him in a fiery death.
This time, Dalton blocked her from rescuing her father, a cold, distant look on his face while he watched him burn. Her screams ripped from her throat, echoing in the air, but he never turned or acknowledged her presence.
Raven woke up drenched in sweat, her cheeks wet.
She didn’t go back to sleep.
chapter twenty-six
Dalton turned off the band saw and examined the piece of wood. The grain had a deep color that would go well with Morgan’s choice of cabinetry. He made some adjustments, sinking into the familiar rhythm of work, the scent of sawdust thick in the air, soothing his senses.
His workshop seemed the only place he felt at peace lately. Between the repeated nightmares wrecking his sleep and the constant memories of Raven during the day, he was poised on the edge of some strange breakdown. Two weeks had passed. He’d kept away from the bar, distanced himself from his family, and tried to bear down and deal with the fallout.
Problem was, he didn’t seem able to move on. He was stuck, still unable to pry her from his mind and his heart. A wrenching emptiness sat in his gut, messing with his appetite. He got through the day, but nothing held a glimmer of happiness or satisfaction any longer. It was as if a piece of himself was now missing—a piece he’d never known existed before Raven.
He peeled off his glasses and gloves. Swigging some water, he wiped his forehead and went to change the song on his iPhone when a text came in. His breath caught, then held as he waited to see who it was from.
Busy tonight? Thinking of grabbing dinner—wanna join me?
His shoulders slumped. Charlie. After he’d finished the Sullivans’ deck, they’d spoken a few times, but they hadn’t gotten any further since he’d broken up with Raven. He stared at the phone for a while. Maybe it was time to force the issue. Get past these feelings that had no place in his life and move on with another woman. He’d never had trouble before. He’d been out of the game too long, and Charlie intrigued him. They had a more friendly vibe, but it wouldn’t take much to cross over.
He quickly texted back. Sure. Seven? Where?
The phone shook. Great. My Place?
He stilled. Pain clawed at his gut, but he fought it back, pissed off and frustrated. Morgan and Sydney still went there for drinks and poker night. Cal and Tristan never mentioned it, but he was sure they frequented the bar also. He couldn’t avoid Raven forever. If he showed up with another woman, it might be the catalyst needed to prove he could move on, and confirm to her it was over.
Even though he’d driven that point home their last time together.
The memory of her ravaged face hit him like a sucker punch. The raw pain in her eyes as she realized he was walking away, treating her like some cheap whore. He regretted the cruelty of his actions, yet at the same time, Dalton had been convinced it was the best way to break it off. Brutal, yes. But final.
He tapped out his answer. Ok.
A smiley face popped up.