Page 65 of The Burdens We Share
I stop breathing, “What do you mean?”
He shrugs, “I don’t know, Little Devil. It just felt like we were missing something even after he was arrested. I wanted to see if I could find something we missed before, but I didn’t find anything. It had to just be my paranoia. I’m sorry, Ivory. I didn’t mean to scare you.”
I absorb every word. I have to believe that there isn’t anything wrong. If I start to believe otherwise, I’ll go back to being that scared girl I was who let that man petrify me and destroy my life for months. I refuse to give him that kind of power over me. I take a deep breath and raise my chin. “You didn’t scare me. I shouldn’t have been snooping, I’m sorry.”
He shakes his head, “No, I’m sorry. I should’ve told you about that. I just didn’t want to scare you.”
I nod, “I understand.”
A silent moment passes between us and I smirk, “Anything else you want to tell me?”
He scoffs, “No. I’ve told you more than I’ve told anyone else in my life.”
I raise a brow, “There’s one thing you haven’t told me.”
He tilts his head at me in doubt, “What’s that?”
I nod towards his drawer, “What’s in the locked drawer?”
A moment passes where he pauses and assesses me as if he’s deciding whether or not to be truthful. It causes a spike of fear to rush through me. What could be in that drawer that has him acting this way? He sighs as if he’s come to a decision that he isn’t fond of and he reaches inside his jacket pocket slowly, removing his eyes from mine. He removes something small that gets swallowed up by his large hand and I don’t realize what it is until he extends his open palm to me. A key.Thekey. To the drawer.
My lips part in surprise as I reach for the key. “Why am I getting the feeling like you don’t want me to see whatever is in there?” I ask, my voice low.
He finally meets my eyes, “Because I don’t.”
That only makes me want to open it more. So I do. I fit the tiny silver piece of metal in the lock with shaking fingers and slowly turn until I hear the faint click. I look up at Dallas for any sign that maybe I shouldn’t open the drawer, but he just looks at meencouragingly. I pull it out and frown when my eyes land on the only item in the drawer. A manila folder stuffed full of papers. I look back up at him, annoyance on my features, “Seriously? This is what the big secret is? A damn folder?” Disappointment is clear in my voice. Seriously, if you’re gonna go through the trouble of keeping stuff locked up at least let it be interesting.
He nods towards the file with his chin, “Open it.”
Curiosity resurfaces in me as I reach inside the drawer and withdraw the folder. There are no labels on it or words of any kind that would give a hint as to what’s inside. I open it and peer inside and the first thing that my eyes land on causes my stomach to drop. It’s a photo ofme. It’s a photo of me at the show Brody debuted “The Masks We Wear.” I know because I remember that stunning little outfit I wore. It looks like it was taken from the crowd by a fan. “Did you take this?” I ask, my eyes still locked on the photo.
“No, it was online.” Is his response.
Why would he have a photo of me in a file from the internet? I move the smiling photo of myself out of the way and assess the next document. It’s a text file, a report, documenting my entire life. A knot forms in my stomach and I sit in his chair as I rifle through documents. Dallas has everything in here. Tabloids, news reports, interview transcripts, high school report cards, literally my entire life. “Why do you have this?” My voice comes out choked. I feel the bitter taste of betrayal in my mouth because he had this for I don’t even want to know how long and never once mentioned it the entire time we’ve been together.
He leans against his desk and while I don’t look up at him, I can feel his eyes on me. “Do you remember what I told you about my mother’s death?”
I notice how he used the word death instead of murder and realize that while I’m angry at him and slightly disgusted, I don’t want to disrespect such a sensitive topic. “Yes,” I whisper.
“Almost a year ago, do you remember that day you and the girls were in the studio on the tour? It was the last time Harvey was on tour with you three.”
I try to remember, but it doesn’t come out clearly. Harvey was with us for the entire tour and we worked in so many rented studios in different states. “No.”
He continues, “It was right before my mom died. I didn’t know who you were. The company was really growing and taking off and it was becoming way too much for me to handle on my own.”
I look up at him, but the man I’ve been falling for is suddenly looking different to me. It’s like I’m seeing him through lenses of betrayal. “And you wanted Harvey to come back and work with you.” I know this part of the story.
Dallas nods, a frown on his face most likely caused by the look I’m giving him. “I’d been trying to contact him, but he wasn’t returning my calls. I got impatient so I used my technical skills to locate him and I did it so well that I managed to pull up live security feed footage from the studio you were in. I did it because I was looking for Harvey, but when I pulled it up it was like I forgot everything I wanted to say to Harvey and everything I wanted for the business because you were there and Isawyou. You were playing your guitar wearing one of your frilly little pink outfits and I could not stop looking at you. I swore to myself in that moment I had to know you and that I would place myself in your path so we could meet more organically.”
I raise a brow, “But you never did.”
He swallows, “Because then my mom died.”
I squeeze my eyes shut and look down. I don’t know how to feel.
Dallas sighs before he continues as if he’s pained to recount the memory, “Before she died, I was so fun and carefree. I saw the good in the world and in people. I washappy.” His voicedarkens, “And then when she was gone, I’d lost any trace of that man I was. The guilt ate me alive from the inside out and I becamethis.” He explains as if there’s something wrong with him.
I open my eyes and look back up at him, willing him to continue. He does. “When I promised myself we would meet organically or as organically as I could get considering…I wanted you to meet the old me, not this version. So I never appeared in your path. That didn’t mean I didn’t think about you because you were all I could think about. That was when I started the file. I wanted to know everything about you because I couldn’t get the real thing and as I was doing it I realized I only started to feel okay, the grief only started to get a little more durable, when I was focused on you.”
