He was getting pissed off all over again. I could sense it coming off his body. “Did it happen getting the cat?”
Him and the fucking cat. Jesus. “Why do you hate the cat so much? And no, Dr. Evil, it didn’t happen then.” During Mildred’s rescue, I had almost died from smoke inhalation, or at least that was what it had felt like in the moment. “It happened when I tried opening the door to her house. The knob was hot.” Okay that was the understatement of the month. I had a second degree burn from it, and I didn’t want to even begin to piece together what I was going to do with a burned hand and my job. How long would it take to heal? How long would I have to take off from work? Could I hold shears in my hand once it got a little better?
I had no idea, and that made me panic a little.
Okay, more than a little.
I didn’t have some huge savings account; I’d barely started getting my feet back under me after taking time off to visit Vanessa, and asking my family or Van for money seemed like a horrible fucking idea. I could probably get by without working for a couple of weeks, but that was it—and that was with me counting every penny and not wasting a single cent. There was money in the account I had set aside for the boys from Rodrigo’s life insurance policy, but I would never, ever touch it. It was the boys’.
His eyelids hung low over those hazel eyes, and I caught a flash of his teeth as they bit down on the inside of his cheek for a moment. I knew when he didn’t comment on me calling him Dr. Evil that he was genuinely really angry. He looked like he was mulling my words over… or talking himself out of yelling at me. From the murderous expression on his face, it could have been both. Then he swallowed hard. “It was stupid. Really goddamn stupid, and I don’t think you seem to realize that—”
“I do,” I argued.
He shot me this disbelieving look. “You have two boys, Diana—”
Guilt pricked at my chest, and I swallowed at the same time my eyes got teary. “I know, Dallas. I know. Josh already—” My voice broke and I dropped my gaze to the bottom of the wrinkled T-shirt he had on. It was a different one than he’d worn to the movies the night before. “He was so mad at me. I feel terrible I did that to him.”
The sigh that came out of him wasn’t even a slight warning for the hands that came to my shoulders and gave them a squeeze. It didn’t prepare me for the arms that went around them afterward, or the chest that came in contact with my forehead. He’d hugged me the night before, hadn’t he? I hadn’t imagined it? His voice wasn’t any less rough or mean as he said, “You scared the hell out of all of us.”
I had?
“I thought you were mad at me last night when you left,” I told him.
His sigh was so deep, it was choppy on the way out. The arms he had around me tightened, but the rest of his body relaxed. “I wasn’t mad at you. I swear. It was other things.” He gulped, and I’d swear one of his hands cupped the back of my head. “Look, I have to leave tomorrow for a couple of days.”
Why was he telling me this? “Is everything okay?”
“It will be. I have to go. I can’t reschedule it,” he explained, his breath so deep it made my head move. “Diana—”
A breeze hit the back of my legs as the back door opened and something poked me in the leg while I stood in Dallas’s arms. “Can you make me a sandwich?” Louie’s voice came from behind. “Please?”
I didn’t even freeze at getting caught. “Sure, give me a sec,” I answered him quickly.
Lou said nothing; he just stood there, not moving. I could sense him.
I sighed, my mouth inches from Dallas’s sternum. “Goo, quit being nosey and give me a second, please.”
There was a hum and then, “Can I have a hug too?”
Dallas’s arms flexed and I swore I heard him laugh lightly before one of them dropped from around me as he took a step back. “Have at her, buddy.”
It was then I finally glanced down at Louie to find he’d moved to stand beside my hip. The kid blinked and edged closer between us. “No, you too,” he said so effortlessly it made me want to cry. “Sandwich.”
Just like that, Dallas crouched and scooped Louie up. One of those little arms went around my neck, and I would bet my life the other was around Dallas’s. The only other thing I knew for sure was that an arm too brawny to belong to a five-year-old wrapped low around my back. The side of my head went to a shoulder and one half of my chest was crushed against a much harder one.
“This is nice,” Louie muttered somewhere close to my ear.
I couldn’t help it. I laughed, and what I was sure was the hand connected to the arm around my back, stretched wide and covered part of my belly, the tips of long fingers touching my belly button. I sucked in a breath.
“Can we do this more?” Lou continued on.
“We will,” the voice above my head agreed.
What was I going to do? Say “no thank you”? I could do this more often. I could do this every day.
But Dallas was married, and we were just friends. I couldn’t forget that.
What I couldn’t forget either was that he wasn’t going to be married forever.
And that didn’t necessarily mean anything good for me.
Chapter Twenty
The thing about being neighbors with your nephew’s coach and your boss being related to said neighbor/coach was that if something happened to you, everyone they knew was going to find out your business.
And that was exactly what happened to me.
In those couple of days after the fire, Trip called and came by the house. A few of Josh’s friends from baseball found out, and their moms dropped off food. I got text messages from other parents on the team who had never given me more than a wave, letting me know that if I needed anything to give them a ring. Doing a good deed didn’t go unnoticed. Maybe I wouldn’t have money to pay the cable bill, but I’d have people willing to watch the boys or mow the yard. It was an outpouring of love I wasn’t familiar with that came at us—this time from people who were practically strangers.
Which was fine, because when I’d called my parents to let them know about how I’d burned myself—because I knew how much worse it would be if they found out another way—my mom had passed off the phone to my dad. I was used to her calling me an idiot, but the silent treatment was worse. The last person who needed to bottle things up was that woman.
I spent those first couple of days going to the salon to reschedule my appointments and talk to Ginny about what she could do while I was out for a while. A while. Best-case scenario seemed to be three weeks. Come hell or high water, I was going to be back at work in three weeks. I couldn’t afford to take off a week, but I absolutely couldn’t take off more than three.