Page 74 of If You Need Me

I barely make it ten steps back into the room when a body blocks my way. Broad chest covered in plaid. Smells like my favorite cologne. “Hey! I’ve been looking for you everywhere.”

I fight to put my feelings back in the box, to hide all the hurt. To not show how out of place I feel. “I just needed the restroom.”

His eyes search mine. “Are you okay, honey?”

I swallow the pain of this whole experience and struggle to form a smile. But he’s all I have right now. He’s my rock, and I’ve spent the last two hours watching him shine like he always does while I fight demons no one can see. “I’m fine,” I croak.

He pushes my hair over my shoulders. “Wanna get out of here?”

I nod once and bite my lips together. I’m so on edge. I don’t want to need him, but I do. So badly.

He cups my face in his palm and presses his lips to my forehead. I can’t tell if he does it because he’s sorry he left me alone, or he feels sorry for me, or to keep up appearances. Regardless, it makes my knees weak and my heart stutter. I want to curl up in a ball and cry my eyes out. When he pulls back, he tips my chin up, his normally carefree expression swapped out for intense concern. “You’re the biggest badass I know, Wilhelmina.”

“I don’t feel very badass right now.”

“Let’s GTFO.” He wraps an arm around my shoulder and guides us toward the door.

“Bright! Man, you can’t leave yet!” calls one of the guys I vaguely remember.

“We’ll see you tomorrow. I’ve got plans with my girl.” Dallas keeps walking, nodding to our former classmates as he guides me to the door. He doesn’t drop his arm even when we step out into the warm, dark evening. The sun has set, and the streetlamps cast a yellow glow over the sidewalk. Moths bumble around them, desperate to get close to the light.

“You want me to call a cab?” Dallas asks.

“Let’s walk.” I could use the air, and the time to mentally prepare for being trapped with him for eight hours in the small, romantic cabin, with only one tiny bed.

“Did something happen at the engagement party?” Dallas asks softly as we head back to his parents’.

“I ran into Brooklyn and Sean, which was to be expected, but I wasn’t prepared for how it would make me feel.” I don’t have anyone else to talk to about this. Even Shilpa, who would gladly listen to me bitch and moan, can’t truly understand what I’m going through.

“They’re assholes. That hasn’t changed in the past decade.”

“It doesn’t stop the hurt, Dallas. Brooklyn was my best friend. And yes, she was a shitty best friend, but she was one of the few people who liked me back then—or at least pretendedto. I haven’t seen or talked to her since graduation, and even then, she was standoffish at best. You have no idea what this is like for me. You made friends everywhere and everyone loved you. They still do. Now you’re a professional hockey player. You’re successful and accomplished and the most popular guy in our class. I was barely tolerated.”

“That’s not true.”

“It is, though. I know I’m a lot. I know that about myself. I’ve certainly heard it enough. I wish I wasn’t too much for most people. This whole thing is a reminder of how hard my teen years were. I wanted to come here and prove to everyone that I’ve made it, that I’m not still that know-it-all insecure girl, but here I’m like a bad joke, fiancée to the pro hockey player who routinely tormented me and ruined my senior year. I feel like an outsider all over again.” I stumble over air and realize that on top of everything else, I’m drunk.

Dallas grabs my arm to steady me. “You’re not a joke, Wills. And you arenevera lot. You’re perfect exactly as you are.”

“It’s easy for you to say from the pedestal everyone puts you on.” I shake free of his hold. “I’m done talking about this. I don’t want to say something I’ll regret.” If I get emotional on him, I’m liable to spill my guts, more than I already have. Ask him why he did all the things he did. In Toronto, I can usually ignore my past, but not here.

My mouth goes dry when we arrive at his parents and he ushers me into the cabin.

“I’m going to get ready for bed,” I announce.

“Okay.” Dallas tucks his hands in his pockets, looking lost and unsure.

I grab my nightshirt and toothbrush and disappear into the bathroom. I’m way drunker than I thought. I lost count of the number of glasses of champagne I consumed. I’m bleary-eyed and unsteady on my feet. I change into my nightshirt and nearly fall over. When I open the bathroom door, Dallas has already changed into shorts and a T-shirt. We trade places, and Istare at the bed for a few long seconds. It’s so small. So, so small.

I turn off all but the bedside lamp and climb in, shimmying as close to the edge as I can. I pull the covers up and cross my arms, trying to make myself as small as possible, which isn’t easy because I’m not small. This bed isnotmade for two adults.

I close my eyes and try to even out my breathing. The bathroom door opens and closes. The bed dips, and I swallow. Dallas’s arm grazes mine. I should not feel that in sensitive places, but I do.

“I’m sorry tonight was hard.” His fingers skim my thigh.

I make a noise but don’t reply with words. The memory of how good he could make me feel is invasive and unnerving, because nothing would make me feel more vulnerable, which is terrifying.

“I could make it better. Distract you, if you want,” he whispers.

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