Page 93 of Sweet Chaos
“But nothing we ever said or did to each other has ever hurt me like this,” she told Dylan.
Oh God.
She turned and stumbled across the parking lot to her car, her shoulders shaking from the tears she was crying.
“You can’t let her leave like this,” I told Dylan.
His eyes locked onto mine. “I’m not leaving you."
“Go to her,” I said. I didn’t know why I thought that she’d accept his help when she’d pushed me away, but I got the feeling that she’d rather talk to him, not me. “Please.”
He scrubbed his hands over his face and then he nodded.
I stood in the parking lot and watched my boyfriend stride over to my sister. I watched him stand in front of her and cradle her face in his hands, lifting it up to his. I watched his lips move as he said something that made her close her eyes and clasp his wrists in her hands. I watched him brush her tears away with the pads of his thumbs. And I watched him pull her into his arms and hold her, his hand stroking her hair and his eyes closed while she cried on his shoulder and held onto him like she never wanted to let him go.
You belonged to her first.
I’ve never belonged to anyone.
It’s almost funny, the lies we tell ourselves. The way I actually believed that he could ever be mine.
I forced myself to stop watching them.
Grabbing my bag from Dylan’s car, I slung it over my shoulder and hazarded one more glance at Sienna and Dylan.
I didn’t want to give him up for anyone or anything. But I had to.
Neither of them noticed when I walked away. Nobody heard the sound of my heart shattering. Nobody but me.
32
Dylan
It had been nearly two years since I’d laid eyes on Sienna. She looked the same. Blonde beach waves, a golden tan, in one of her little designer skirt and tank top ensembles. She felt familiar. Like a song I used to know by heart but hadn’t heard in a long time. She even smelled the same. Like citrus and flowers. My muscle memory kicked in and as her hot tears soaked into my T-shirt, my hand stroked her hair and my eyes closed. We’d been here before. With her crying on my shoulder. Too many fucking times.
When I’d imagined confronting Sienna about me and Scarlett, I’d conveniently forgotten there might be tears. I could deal with Sienna getting angry. Screaming at me. Calling me an asshole. But I’d always hated a woman’s tears. I wanted to make it better. Fix it. Find a solution to the problem as if it was a math equation. But there was no solution. She was her, and I was me, and the sum of our parts had disaster written all over it. Always had. Always would. No amount of time or distance would ever change that.
I released her and took a step back, my eyes going to the spot where I’d left Scarlett. She was gone, and I wanted to chase after her. Eat ice cream in front of the TV. Laugh, fuck, talk about stupid shit. Just be happy.
“Dylan.” I turned my head to face Sienna. “Can we talk? I mean,reallytalk?”
Oh hell, no, here we go. I opened my mouth to tell her there was nothing left to say. I had a girlfriend to chase after.
“If nothing else, you owe me that much. I tried to call and text you so many times, but you never responded, and you never answered my calls.”
I’d blocked her number, that’s why. I rubbed the back of my neck and even though it was the last fucking thing I wanted to do, I nodded.
We bought a six-pack and a fresh pack of smokes—thanks to me, Sienna was a closet smoker—and we drove to the beach in separate cars. On the way there, I considered calling Scarlett to make sure she was okay. But it was a short drive and that would be a long conversation, so I decided against it. After I got this talk over with, I’d go to her apartment and we’d figure out a way to get through this. Together.
Sienna and I got to the beach in time to watch the sunset. It felt wrong, being here with her on a deserted strip of beach with the bluffs behind us and the ocean in front of us, and my ex-girlfriend sitting close enough that I could smell her floral shampoo and the scent of her skin. I drank my beer, my gaze on the horizon. As far as sunsets went, it was a beautiful one, my favorite time of day on the West Coast. Maybe I should have spoken first. Maybe I should have apologized. Maybe I should have said a lot of things. But I sat in silence and watched the seagulls circle and dive. I watched the waves build and crash against the shore, and I waited for her to speak.
I lit two cigarettes and handed one to Sienna, falling into an old habit without even thinking about it. It was my first cigarette in weeks. I’d been trying to kick the habit. Cigarettes not weed. So much for best intentions.
She laughed softly as she took the cigarette from my fingers. “I always thought that was so sexy when you did that.”
“Did what?” I asked.
“Lit two cigarettes. One for me and one for you.”
