Page 20 of Our Long Days
“Dex? Wow. I totally get the appeal. Good job, Flo.”
Despite the crushing weight of the day, I manage a laugh. “You can’t tell Booth.”
She scoffs. “This isn’t my first rodeo. He’s more of a gossip than your mother and Lottie combined. Your secret is safe with me.”
The tension in my shoulders loosens. “Sorry to drop all that on you.”
“Oh, please.” Her voice turns soft. “It’s easier said than done, but don’t put too much pressure on yourself. Coming from a fellow youngest daughter, I get what it means to force yourself into a mold not made for you. It’ll happen. Have patience.”
I sniff. “Thanks. It feels good to get it off my chest.”
“Call anytime.”
We hang up, and the shame from earlier melts away.
Quinn’s heartfelt words and Aly’s wisdom help. They’re small drops of hope in an ocean of failure. I cling to them, my head barely above water, but for once, I’m not drowning.
The sun offers some reprieve from the chilly winds, and I sit and watch the fishing boats bob over the choppy waters.
A shadow appears from over my shoulder. Without turning, I know who it is.
“Can I join you?” a deep voice asks.
I shrug.
How is he everywhere? Anytime I’m close to crashing, he’s there, and while his presence is comforting, he’s the last person I want to witness yet another spiraling episode.
Dex lowers himself onto the bench.
Today’s flannel is dark green with thin lines of mustard yellow. He’s wearing a worn baseball cap and no hearing aid, which isn’t unusual.
“You want to talk about it?”
The same question I asked months ago. I wasn’t entitled to his answers that evening, but my misgivings bled out of me. I’m wrung dry, my mental capacity at its max, and rather than talk, I just want silence from the riot inside my head.
I jerk my head, angling toward him. “Not really.”
He doesn’t flinch at my sharp tone, just nods. “That’s fair.”
His gaze warms the right side of my body, and I want to shrink in on myself as he studies me. What does he see? A lost, irrationally emotional girl he probably regrets sleeping with?
We sit there while the tide changes, and the sun begins its descent.
Memories of his hand enveloping mine at dinner replay. The room was oblivious to the calming effect his touch had on me. Even now, on opposite ends of the bench, his presence is a balm. The issue is, every time he shows up, it nourishes the seed he planted in my chest.
He’s being kind, nothing more.
Fear of rejection eats away at me until my bones grow weary and eyes heavy.
A large arm engulfs me as the horizon tilts. The smoky aroma of oak encompasses me. From the ocean to the forest.
Through the wind, the chaos, and the edge of consciousness, deep words find me.
Lips press to my temple. “Your spark hasn’t gone yet, Trouble.”
CHAPTER TEN
dexter
