Page 53 of Dallas

Overprotective. That’s what it was. For one moment, I look at him, at his beautiful face, those glittering blue eyes, and I wish it were jealousy. I really do. But all this is some misguided attempt at protecting me. All this is Dallas treating me like a child.

Like the child no one ever treated me like when I was one.

I don’t need to be coddled now that I’m twenty-one years old. I’ve done enough hiding. I’ve done enough psychotic protecting of myself.

“I don’t need your misplaced pity,” I say. “Your misplaced honor. This is supposed to bemynight. And if you have so many issues with Colt, you shouldn’t be his friend.”

“That’s not it. It’s not that I think there’s anything wrong with him, it’s just that–”

“You think there’s something wrong with me!” I explode. “That’s it. You can’t deny it. Because what he’s doing would be fine with any other woman, but you think that I’m some kind of fragile little fairy that isn’t allowed to do this. But I want to. I’m tired of this. I’m tired of being locked away, put up on a shelf, I do it to myself, and I don’t need you to do it too. Keep your fucking present.” I throw it at him then. Absolutely launch it at his head.

He tries to catch it, the box bouncing against his palms, before hitting the sidewalk.

“Sarah…”

“No. Go home. I’m going to finish having my party with people who don’t know me. That’s the problem, Dallas Dodge. You know me, and it’s supposed to be a good thing, but you’ve turned it into something I hate. Maybe this doesn’t work. You and me. Maybe it doesn’t work because you still think I’m a kid. Maybe it doesn’t work because you’ll never let me live because you only ever see me as a victim. I don’t want to live that way.”

“That is pretty fucking amazing,” he says. “That you came to me looking for protection and now you’re angry when I offer it.”

“I think you’re smart enough to understand the difference between me being afraid of the pedophile that tortured me when I was a child versus having a dance with your friend at a bar. But if it’s all the same to you, go fuck yourself.”

I turn around and try to open the bar door, but the back door doesn’t open from inside, and I scream and kick it. Then I stomp away from Dallas, going around to the front of the saloon, pushing the door open and coming inside. Colt, Gentry, Allison and Lily are at the back staring keenly at the door when I storm in.

I’m breathing hard, and I look at the cake, and I have two options. I can burst into tears, or I can order another drink.

“Bartender,” I say. “Another daiquiri, please.”

I wipe invisible tears off my cheeks and make my way back to where the group is.

“Are you okay?” Allison asks.

“I’m okay.”

“You need a place to stay tonight?”

I nod. “Yes. I do.”

It feels scary, it feels a little bit painful, but I need some distance from Dallas. I feel a little bit bad about how I handled that. Which is why I need that drink to come faster.

Guilt is not for my birthday.

I can deal with the guilt tomorrow.

Chapter Fourteen

Sarah

Apparently, it’s not only guilt that comes with the bright light of day, but a hangover. I’ve heard that some people don’t remember clearly the things that they do when they’re drunk.

Very sadly for me, I have a clear recollection of everything that happened last night.

I’m staying in the guest bedroom at Allison’s cottage in town. It’s an adorable place, one that she’s renting from Colt’s mom – her stepmother, I’ve discovered – at a reduced rate, at least I think that’s what she said when we stumbled inside out of Gentry’s truck. She was more than a little tipsy herself.

I roll out of bed, and put the floral cover back in place, before stumbling out into the kitchen area. The cake is sitting at the center of the table, half demolished. I have a vague memory of us, drunk, eating that while we both complained about men.

Her complaints are largely about Colt. And it occurs to me that her hatred of Colt feels just sharp enough to be something a lot more problematic. Yes, he’s her stepbrother, and that would be pretty messed up. But I’m not judging. I’m so messed up. If I’m right, though, she’s very good at hiding her feelings. Maybe even from herself. Even if everything last night hadn’t been so bad, being certain about that makes me also certain that Colt is not the one for me to do my experimenting on.

But that isn’t my biggest problem.

---