Page 41 of The Burdens We Share
He exhales and doesn’t say anything for a moment. We just look at each other in silence and I want so desperately for him to close the distance between us, to kiss me and never let me go, but he doesn’t. Instead, he asks, “What happened between you and your mother?”
My eyes fall, “I snapped at her. It was all true and all things that I feel, but wrong of me to say. Especially because she was already dealing with so much because of Sam.” I’m mortified by my behavior.
“Your mother seems like she’s very nice and she obviously loves you very much, but she never should’ve pushed her job as a parent onto you. I hope you don’t get angry at me for saying this but, your mom is a very flawed woman. She depends on you for every single thing and I genuinely don’t know how you manage it all and still make time for yourself.” He frowns and reaches for my chin with his index finger, bringing it up, “Maybe it wasn’t the time to snap at her, but it was what she needed tohear. She needs to know how you feel.”
I know he’s right. “I feel horrible for yelling at her.” I shake my head at myself, “I lost control over myself. I just-” I clamp my jaw shut because I know if I say the rest of that, this conversation is taking a dark turn.
He doesn’t miss a beat, “You just what? Tell me.”
I know if I can tell anyone, it’s Dallas. I admit, my voice shaky, “I feel like I’ve just been losing control over my emotions lately and I don’t know why. I just snap on people and it’s so unlike me. I don’t mean to snap and to lose my shit, but it just happens and then I can’t take back what I said and I feel guilty after.”
Dallas’ eyes soften in pity, “I noticed.”
Of course he has. “Because I snapped at you,” my frown deepens with my regret. “I’m sorry.”
His finger drops from my chin, “It’s okay.”
“It isn’t.”
He smiles at me softly, “I promise you, it’s okay. I’ve been through worse.”
I want to ask him what he means by that, but I’m afraid that if I ask him personal questions, he’ll put that wall between us back up and this moment between us will be lost.
I look down at the middle seat between us and find his hand resting palm down a few inches from me. I remove my hand from my lap and rest it down beside his. I look up at him as I slowly move my hand closer to his until my ring and pinky finger entwine with his. He looks down at where our hands meet and pauses for a moment, taking in the sight of our hands and for a brief second, I worry that I crossed some kind of line, but when he looks back up at me I don’t see anything in his eyes aside from what looks like affection.
For once, Dallas Carter is easy to read.
––––––––
THE DOOR TO OURshared suite closes behind us. I look at Dallas over my shoulder, “I’m gonna shower and go to bed. Goodnight.”
He starts undoing his tie as he makes his way towards his room, “Goodnight, Little Devil.”
I blush. There’s the nickname he called me earlier. I have to admit, I like it. Especially when it’s coming from his lips. I watch as the door to his bedroom closes behind him and I make my way into mine, closing the door behind me.
I start stripping out of my clothes, tossing them in a pile by my suitcase before I make my way to my bathroom and turn the shower on. As I wait for it to heat up, I tie my hair into a low bun so that it doesn’t get wet and I grab a fluffy white towel for myself and place it on the hook next to the glass door of the shower.
Once I see steam on the mirror, I step inside and start scrubbing away at my body. I let the scorching water soothe my aching muscles for a few moments and when I feel my skin is successfully red, I turn the water off and step out, quickly wrapping the towel around myself so that I don’t catch a glimpse of myself in the mirror. I still haven’t been able to look at myself.
I wish I didn’t feel so disgusted by the prospect of seeing my own body, but every time I think of myself, I picture Cami and then I feel suddenly more committed to not only my diet but my new workout routine. My stomach growls almost as if to torment me and I roll my eyes as I carefully toe out of the room, cautious of the water on my feet and the slippery tile beneath me.
When I open the shower door, the first thing my eyes catch on is the pink rose on my pillow and a white envelope. I gasp as the familiar terror slices through me like a blade. I scan the room for my stalker, but I don’t see him anywhere. He could stillbe in the suite somewhere. My breathing becomes uneven, and panicked, as I worry.
I do the only thing I can think of as tears start forming in my eyes and I sprint out of the room and start banging on Dallas’ door, “Dallas! Dallas open the door! Please!”
The door swings open not even a second later and I nearly fall as my fist connects with air. He takes one look at my face and anger rises to the surface behind his eyes, “What happened?”
A tear slides down my cheek, “He was in my room. He was in there when I was in the shower. There’s a note and a rose and-”
He grabs both of my wet shoulders to steady me, “Breathe. You’re okay, you’re safe.”
A terrifying realization occurs to me. “Dallas, he could’ve been watching me in the shower.”
If it were possible for steam to come out of someone’s ears from anger, that would be happening to Dallas right now because he looks like that thought just infuriated him like never before. His eyes narrow in rage and his nostrils flare. He bares his teeth like he wants to rip someone’s head clean off their shoulders and he growls, “I swear to God when I find that prick, he’s dead.”
He steps around me, charging into my bedroom and I grab his hand, “Wait! What if he’s in there somewhere!”
He tugs his hand and I only hold on tighter, “Let go.”
