Page 159 of Straight to Me

“I’ll be fine.” She hooks her arms under mine.

In a flash, Dean’s boots thump by my side and he takes hold of me from Jess. She steps back making way for him. “What’s wrong, Mads?” He still looks angry, but his voice sounds soft. Using his hold, I straighten myself up.

“We need to talk, Dean.”

“Will you be able to ride with me?”

“No. I’m staying with Jess.”

“Not now. You’re coming home with me.” Before I can argue my case, he cuts me off. “Stop frowning at me, it’s not up for discussion.” I’m a little stunned as his eyes never leave mine while he speaks. “Travis, you see the girls home, I got Mads.” I consider the conversation we need to have. It’s probably best to get it over with sooner rather than later, so I don’t argue.

Managing to drag my eyes away from his hold, I turn to Bex and Jess who both look on with concern.

“You okay?” Jess asks, looking from Dean to me.

“I'm fine, you go. Call me in the morning, we can arrange to do something tomorrow?”

“You call if you need us to come get you,” Bex says, looking directly at Dean. She’s silently letting him know she won’t stand for any shit. I nod and watch them leave with Travis, then I walk back to Dean’s bike.

Chris is nowhere to be seen, he must have left after I’d walked away. Stood by the Harley, I hold my hand out, waiting to be handed the helmet. We don’t speak as I put it on and climb on the back.

Back at his house, my slightly still drunk legs wobble as we walk towards the door. Dean’s hand stays firmly at the small of my back, guiding me as I move. He’d kept a tight hand on me the whole way back, except when turning or needing both hands to ride. He must’ve worried I’d fall off along the way.

Once inside though, I stand like a stranger, waiting for him to move first. “I’ll make a drink. Sit down.” His monotone voice is hard to read.

Unsure whether he’s going to have a go at me for punching Chris or be cross because he thinks I'd drunk too much, I slump on the sofa, sitting as I’m told, and wait for whatever chastisement he needs to get out of his system before I can talk to him.

I contemplate whether or not I’d heard Chris correctly; that it washimwho couldn’t have children. In between waves of anger and frustration, I try to make sense of it all. I wonder if Sofia gave up waiting for him to get her pregnant so found the next man who could, a similar case of what he’d done to me.

What shame he will have brought to his poxy mother and father. That’s probably why he came crawling to me, thinking I was desperate enough. But my mum? Why had she called him?

I pull out my phone and send her a message asking her to call me as soon as she could. “Here.” Dean stops my overthinking by placing a cup of tea on the coffee table before he sits on it, facing me.

“Why’d you come tonight?” I ask, my voice soft. He lifts my feet onto his lap. My boots are scuffed in new places from all the dancing tonight and I can’t help thinking if I have any polish anywhere. He doesn’t look angry anymore.

My eyes watch his hands tenderly resting on my leg. The mixed signals I get from him are so confusing. The line between our friendship, if I can call it that, and our relationship, which we’re no longer in, is seriously blurred. “I just wanted to make you happy,” he says softly, dropping his eyes. His lips straighten forming a weak smile.

“You did. Before I found out you didn’t want me drinking too much that is. It was nice seeing Bex and Jess, but you don’t own me, Dean. You shouldn’t have told Travis to watch how much I drink. I’m not a child.”

He picks up my foot, unzipping my boot before pulling it off then repeating with the other. Resting them on his lap again, his softened ruggedness has my heart fluttering as his hands start massaging the soles of my feet. The feel of his gentle touch is soothing and distracts me for a while.

After watching him for a few moments, an abrupt wave of nausea reminds me of Chris. I pull my feet away, bending my knees to my chest. Dean looks up, his face soft and tired.

“It was Chris all along.”

“Chris?” he asks.

“Who couldn’t have children,” I say and the tears start flowing. I cover my face with my hands and he moves to sit next to me in one fluid motion. His strong hands hold me, pulling me close and stroking my hair comfortingly.

“It wasn’t my fault,” I sob, catching my breath.

“It wouldn’t have been your fault even if it was you that couldn’t have children.” His words make me squeeze my eyes closed, letting out more tears. “Have you heard from the doctor yet?” he asks. I wipe my damp cheeks with the palms of my hands and sniff.

“Not yet. There’s still a chance I could have something wrong too. But, if I don’t… Dean, that means…”

He lifts my chin to look at him. “It means you’re a strong woman, Mads. You get a chance to begin again.”

Sniffing the tears back as he speaks, I want to take a chance and kiss him. To begin again with him. I can see in his eyes that he feels the same way. Neither of us move though, both too afraid or unsure to make the most of how we feel in this moment. We sit like that for a long time, with his arms holding me close to him.

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