She mattered.
So much so that it had been his embarrassment over the fact that he’d fucked her and walked away that got him to open his eyes. What made it worse was the fact that Sarah was the only woman he’d had sex with since Meghan. The only one.
Granted, it had taken a couple of weeks of reliving that night over and over in his head before he finally decided to do something, but if Dylan was honest with himself, she’d been the real reason he had decided to stop drinking.
And maybe that was what scared him shitless.
Sarah had always mattered. Even back in high school before he’d fallen in love with Meghan, he’d felt something for her. And when they’d … fucked … against her living room wall … well, he’d felt it again then, too, which had scared the fucking hell out of him.
That night, when he’d broken down and cried after they’d… Yeah. After. It still embarrassed him to think he’d fallen apart so easily in front of her. He hadn’t cried because of his loss or because he missed Meghan. He’d lost it because of the guilt he felt. His feelings for Sarah confused the shit out of him, and he’d felt remorseful, as though he’d cheated on his wife. His dead wife.
To think he might be too late with Sarah now … that bothered him more than anything.
But she’d said she wasn’t sure things were serious. That meant there was still a chance. Right? Surely she wasn’t in love with that Bill guy. He didn’t even seem her type. He drove a fucking minivan, for fuck’s sake. Christ. Dylan was forty-two with two kids, but he didn’t drive a damn minivan.
He never would, either.
But Sarah hadn’t batted an eyelash when she said she was going away with the guy.
With his foot to the floor, Dylan reached the highway, his thoughts going a million miles a minute as he merged, guiding the truck into the fast lane. It wasn’t until he passed a familiar exit that he realized he’d gone too far. He’d passed his house. Instead of pulling off at the next one, making a U-turn, and heading home, Dylan kept going. Maybe he’d drive until he ran out of gas. Driving around aimlessly didn’t sound like fun, but he couldn’t think of anything else to do. It sure beat going back to Sarah’s and insisting that she send Bill packing.
He’d been putting the miles behind him for roughly ten minutes when his cell phone rang. He hit the button to answer the call. “Yeah?”
“Dylan?” his sister greeted.
“Hey, Ash,” he replied hoarsely.
“You okay?” Ashleigh asked, her tone wary.
Dylan didn’t know the answer to that, nor was he sure if she was referring to something specific.
“Where are you?” she questioned when he didn’t say anything.
“Driving.”
There was a slight pause before she spoke again. “Why don’t you come by?” He could hear his niece in the background, sputtering on about something. “Riley’d love to see you.”
“Yeah, okay,” he muttered. It wasn’t like he had anything else to do.
“Perfect. See you in a little bit?”
“On my way. Fifteen minutes or so.” Dylan hung up and took the next exit to make a U-turn back toward Ashleigh’s. He’d go spend time with his niece and hope that he could calm down. He wouldn’t allow his emotions to control him anymore, even though it would be so easy. And when he was done there, maybe he’d go find a meeting.
Yeah. He’d definitely be doing that.
Roughly twenty minutes later, he pulled up in front of Ashleigh and Alex’s house, the one Ashleigh had moved into before she’d started seeing Alex several years back. Dylan still remembered helping her get set up, noticing for the first time the awkward tension between Alex and Ashleigh. Needless to say, he’d been blindsided to find out one of his best fucking friends had been crushing on Dylan’s little sister for years. Something he still tried not to think too much about even though they were married with a child.
When he climbed out of his truck, he saw his niece standing at the front door, nose pressed up against the glass, waving her little hand furiously, a huge grin on her sweet, cherubic face.
“Hey, sweetness,” Dylan greeted when he pulled open the glass door and stepped inside.
“Unca D!”
Snatching her up in his arms, Dylan squeezed her and blew a raspberry against her neck, making her laugh. With a sweet little chuckle, she started squirming, ready to be put down. Dylan set her back on her feet and watched as she sped off toward the living room.
“Hey,” Ashleigh acknowledged with a surprised look on her face, peeking around the corner as she dried her hands on a dish towel. “That was fast.”
“Where’s Alex?” Dylan questioned, glancing around the house. It still looked the same as the last time he’d been there, expect for possibly more toys scattered on the floor.
The scene reminded him of when Stacey and Nate were little. There had always been toys scattered from one end of the house to the other. He’d worked tirelessly to keep them put up while Meghan had laughed at him, telling him it was pointless. She’d been right. No matter how many times he’d put blocks back in a box or packed Hot Wheels cars into a bin, they always seemed to find their way back onto the floor.
“He should be back any minute,” Ashleigh answered. “He ran to the store to grab a gallon of milk.”
“I coulda picked it up on my way,” Dylan told her, following Ashleigh into the kitchen.
She nodded toward the bar, and he took a seat while she pulled a pitcher of tea from the refrigerator. “I think he needs to get out of the house sometimes. Riley’s definitely daddy’s girl and she doesn’t give him a moment of peace.”
Dylan knew that Alex would move heaven and earth for both Ashleigh and Riley, but he understood needing a minute to breathe every now and then. Dylan had depended on his grandfather for so long, needing someone to help with Stacey and Nate after Meghan had died… Thinking back on it now, he realized he’d probably leaned on Pops more than he should have.
“So, how are you?” Ashleigh inquired, carrying the pitcher to the counter.
“I’m … good.” Maybe not great, but he would survive.
Pouring the tea, she smiled up at him, then grabbed a glass. She slid the back of her hand over his scruffy jaw after she set it in front of him. “You need to shave.”
“Nate told me the same thing,” he groused, rubbing his fingers over the bristle on his face.
He did need to shave. It’d been at least two weeks since the last time he’d picked up a razor.
He wondered what Sarah had thought when she’d seen him. He hadn’t thought much about his appearance when he’d crawled out of bed and headed right for his truck as soon as he woke up. His conversation with Sarah’s nephew last night had kept him up most of the night, and he’d needed to see Sarah for himself.
Now, he wasn’t sure that’d been the best idea.
“You talk to Sarah lately?” he found himself asking before he could think better of it.
Ashleigh stopped as she placed the pitcher back in the refrigerator, her head swinging in his direction. “Jake’s aunt?”