Page 72 of Glass Half Full
As Dylan stiffens besides me like he’s just been slapped with the truth, I realize I’m right. He’s scared. Something is holding him back, and he’s looking for excuses to turn away from this.
From me.
“That’s not...that’s not what this is about,” he stammers.
“So what is it about?” My question is still a demand, but my voice is softer now. I need him to explain. I need to know what he’s thinking so I can help him.
“I told Stella and Owen about you,” he begins, “about us. It made me realize just how much we’ve been ignoring about this situation. They’re two of my best friends, and I still had toexplainus to them. I had to make sure they knew it’s ‘not what it looks like.’ I’m going to have to keep doing that over and over again, to anyone who finds out about us, and not everyone is going to understand. Not everyone is going to approve. I don’t want to put you in that position. I can’t handle the idea that people will look down on you and think badly of you because of your choice to be with me.”
He spreads his hands like that’s the be all and end all of this decision, but I’m not buying it.
“Why would people think badly of me for being with you?”
“It’s the...situation,” he stammers. “Our jobs—”
“Are jobs, Dylan,” I interrupt. “I know how much Taverne Toulouse means to you. It means a lot to me too, but this”— gesture between the two of us—“is a big part of who I am now, and if that’s not welcome there, then I don’t want to stay. We can get new jobs. You don’t even like your—”
“It’s not that I don’t like it—”
“Bullshit.” I’ve been doing my best to be understanding, to give him space to speak, but my frustration wins out. “You do not like being a manager. You don’t feel like you’re on the right path. That’s why you keep messing things up. I think part of youwantsto get fired so you won’t have to step up and make the choice yourself, just like you’re trying to leave me for my ‘own good’ because the alternative is way too scary. I know it’s scary, Dylan. I’m scared too. That’s not going to stop me.”
My heart is pounding in my chest. I want to jump off this bench and pull him to his feet. I want to throw my arms around him, to kiss him with all the fire roaring through my veins. I want to take him to bed and show him, with my skin and my screams and my hands in his hair, that this is worth the fight.
Only he already looks like he’s done fighting.
“You don’t understand,” he murmurs.
“So help me to,” I beg. “What am I missing?”
“You...You shouldn’t be with me. I’m only ever going to bring you down.”
There it is. There’s the eye of the storm.
“Dylan.” I rest my fingertips on his forearm. He doesn’t cover them with his own, but he doesn’t shrug me off either. “You’ve helped lift me up higher than I’ve ever been before. You’re one of the best people I’ve ever met—”
“I’m not,” he cuts me off. “I’m really not.”
“How can you say that? Have you seen yourself? Seen what you’ve accomplished, what you’ve done? You’ve changed lives. You...”
I trail off when I identify the sound he’s making. He’s laughing. He’s chuckling to himself as he stares at the ground, and it raises the hairs on my neck.
“What I’ve done,” he repeats. “Do you want to know what I’ve done? I went to jail, Renee. I spent four months of my life in prison.”
“You...Wait, what?”
“I’m a convicted criminal.”
What did you do?
I hate that it’s the first thing that comes to mind, but the question echoes in my head all the same.
What did you do?What did you do?
I won’t ask it. Whatever he did, he’s more than that now. I know he is. I know him.
Do you know him, Renee?
“Still think I’m one of the best people you’ve ever met?” His voice is bitter.
