Page 72 of Two For the Show
He chokes on a laugh. “I’m sorry?”
“Why would you think, knowing why I’m here, what I’m running from, that I would begrudge you your own traumatic back story?”
“But it’s different.”
“How? How is it any different?” I take a deep breath, knowing that Dexter will never feel on even footing with me if I don’t give him a piece of me the way he did. “I probably could have left the guys a lot sooner,” I say quietly.
“What do you mean?”
“I mean, I probably could have called my parents. Told them what was happening, begged them for help.”
Looks like I’m going to show Dexter my greatest shame.
“Why didn’t you?”
“Honestly? I don’t know. I worried they wouldn’t believe me. That they would tell me I made my bed and I needed to lie in it.” I snort and shake my head. “They wouldn’t, of course. They have never shown any tendencies that they wouldn’t believe me. They love me. They’re good, level-headed people. I’m sure they would’ve come and got me.” I pull my knees to my chest and close my eyes, not wanting to see if there is any judgment in his expression. “But the slight fear that they would leave me there kept me from calling them. The shame that I got myself into that situation made me fearful of asking anyone for help. It’s hard not to blame myself for not seeing the signs earlier.”
When I look up and see the kindness in his eyes, it loosens something in my chest. Now that I’m talking, I find it hard to stop.
“Part of me was hopeful he’d change. I told myself that Rich was a good Alpha before Tripp and Greg came around. If I could get them to leave, he and I could go back to being happy. That’s stupid, right?”
“No,” Dexter says quietly. “You want to believe the best in the people you love. I understand that more than most. I’ve tried to rationalize what Dad did thousands of times. It’s why I went to see him. I thought maybe he’d tell me everything I needed to forgive him.”
“We’re quite the pair, aren’t we?” I choke out a laugh.
“A matched set. Like salt and pepper shakers.”
“Dibs on being the pepper.”
Dexter laughs, a hearty, free sound that I’m not sure I’ve ever heard from him. He swipes the melting ice cream from the table and hands me one of the spoons that were resting on top of it. “We should eat this before it turns into a milkshake.”
I recognize the ice cream for what it is.
A peace offering.
A metaphorical breaking of bread.
Something has changed between Dexter Reynolds and me today. Something profound.
As I snuggle into his side and restart the season ofKnot What You Expected, I feel like the last puzzle piece of my pack has been slotted.
“Hey, Dexter?” I say quietly.
“Yeah?”
“Can I kiss you?”
He doesn’t answer, but he dips his head and brushes his lips against mine. They’re cold and sweet from the ice cream, and so gentle.
It’s not fiery and rough. Not something that is done as a precursor to something more.
This kiss is a promise.
From him to me that he’ll be there. That he trusts me.
And from me to him, that I’ll accept him as he is.
It’s sweet, it’s passionate, and it’s everything I needed from my Alpha.
