Page 84 of Dancing Struggles
“Sweet Sarah?”
I look up. Leland is there. I don’t know how long he’s been there, but I suspect he came out when she went in.
“I didn’t do anything with her.”
“Yeah, I know. I didn’t ask, I told her some truths. Maybe some will sink in. I don’t know. It’s not my problem. I said what I had to say.”
He looks at me a long time and shakes his head. “Do you know how much I . . .” He stops. “When you took off, Sarah, I was scared. I came after you because I didn’t want to lose you.”
Our gazes clash, and I can barely breathe. “What does that mean?”
“I don’t know. Just that, I guess.”
I don’t know either, and that’s the problem. We keep fast stepping about things that seem important and I don’t know how to stop that.
But for now, those words warm me. He was scared of losing me.
He holds out his hand. “Let me take you home. I don’t feel like this place anymore.”
“Okay.”
And I take his hand. For whatever it’s worth.
Chapter Twenty-Four
Leland
For the next few weeks, things are going well. There are nights we fuck like rabbits, like we need to get down and dirty and filthy with sex.
I entice her away for a weekend where I fuck her almost like that night we met, in an alley after we leave a bar, and we can’t keep our hands to ourselves. I have her up against the wall, her panties pulled to the side, and I take her hard and fast in a dirty cum that leaves her boneless.
The thrill of being caught in that San Diego alley is fire, as is the way we wreck the hotel room and I take her in all positions, and it’s good. Better than good.
But something is missing, and I don’t know what it is. We’re not lacking in the sex, in the kissing, or any of that. Yet we’re missing something, something huge. And she feels it too.
I catch it when I don’t expect it. Like this level is a resting stop, or maybe the place where we get off the ramp and call it quits.
That’s something I don’t want. And her? I don’t know.
She wants something else too.
We don’t talk about it. The subject is tucked away, but there.
And she’s been looking at a letter she won’t tell me about. I don’t ask, but I’ve seen her talk about it with Isaac and that burns.
But I’m also busy. I’ve got a lot of work, and I’m drawing up documents for Dakota and the wedding that’s in a couple of days’ time.
I’m at home, waiting for Lawson. He knocks and comes in, and he’s about as nervous as I’ve ever seen him, so I pour him an extra-large drink and force it on him.
“Don’t ever get married.”
“That’s . . . not what I expected you to say.”
I sprawl on my sofa as he paces the room. “I’m getting married. I want to get married I want to make it beyond official that my Wildcat’s mine forever. But I’m just saying elope.”
“Sounds like marriage is a load of fun, good thing I’m not doing that.”
He points at me. “You fuckin’ should.”
