Page 17 of Falling Into Forever
Sitting up, I replay the last few minutes. “Oh my god. You scared me and pushed me over the railing with your words.” My head is foggy. “Wait, how did you get me away from the shark? And why were you kissing an unconscious woman? That’s disgusting and nowhere near consensual.”
I’m trying to brush my hair from my forehead again when he lifts his hands and rises to his feet.
“You’re fucking out of your mind, woman,” he says. “I asked you what you were doing, and you went overboard. Why the hell were you that close to the water if you still can’t swim? And what are you talking about? What shark? This is a goddamn lake, Saylor.”
He reaches forward like he wants to check for injuries but quickly pulls his hand back. “Did you hit your head on the way down? And lastly, I was not, I repeat, not kissing you. Kate watched as I fished you out of your watery grave and stood there as I performed CPR. A thank you would be customary. Not an accusation of assault, you twit.”
Stunned, I lean back on my hands. Twit. I haven’t heard that in years, and I almost laugh. Wait. “You didn’t kiss me?”
“Trust me. I’m not into comatose, and this,” he says, waving his hands around angrily, “is not my scene.”
Outrage and humiliation fight for dominance in my heart, and I stand up, clinging to outrage with both hands. “Right. Oh, I know I’m not yourscene, Dante. I’ve seen yoursceneall over the internet.” The words are hoarse, but my tone is as sharp as his infraction and cuts just as quickly when he flinches.
I’m the worst human. I deserved every ounce of pain he inflicted back then, but I had no choice. I either hurt him for a few months or hurt him for a lifetime. I chose the lesser of two evils six years ago, even though it broke me too.
And regardless of how it kills me now, I have to hang on to the anger. Anger is easier than sadness. Hate is easier than loving someone you’ll only ever hurt. And selfishly, I won’t survive the pain of losing him again. No matter what else happens, I will stay angry with him.
His face softens, losing a little of the anger as he studies me long and hard, but I still see the vacancy in his eyes. He has no idea how much I needed him.
“Thanks for saving me. I’m sorry for—for what I said. This isn’t going to work, Kate. I’ll give up Sassy Thom—” I trip over my pseudonym. Even if he did the same thing, saying it in front of him is mortifying. “I’ll give up my career before I willingly break my heart again,” I say instead.
I stagger to my feet, and neither of them moves while I head for my house, dripping a pool of lake water with each step.
* * *
An hour later,I poke my head out of the bathroom door and look both ways like a thief before exiting. No one in their right mind would stick around after this afternoon’s display, but Kate and Dante live on another planet. The glitz and glamour of Hollywood holds no shine for me, but they’re drawn to it like mosquitos to electric buzzers.
I understand why this setup makes sense to them, but I don’t know or care what’s in it for Dante.
Liar! You care so much that it hurts.
Jesus, Sassy. Do not let him invade your thoughts. I lost Dante years ago, right along with the rest of my life. Let him stay dead. Thinking of him as Dante Greer makes it hurt a little less. That Dante is an asshole. He’s a playboy, according to the gossip blogs. Hating him as his alter-ego is easier than feeling the pain of missing him as mine.
Something tells me I haven’t won this battle yet, and I take tentative steps down the hallway. He’s invading the air, my space, my soul, and it hurts so much that a shudder rolls through my body.
The open living space is empty. How the hell do I face him now? It’s like I’m fourteen all over again. When he first stormed into my life, I spent weeks hiding from him, but my apartment is way too small to do that now.
Guilt washes over me, and I clutch my pendant in my palm. Sometimes I wish I were strong enough to handle the emotions trying to suffocate me. I wish I could be more like Ainsley and let people in. I wish I wasn’t the way I am, but life happened, and now I deal with the repercussions. But why did I have to go and accuse him of assault? My freaking mouth always shoots off before my brain catches up. That got me into this mess, and I still haven’t learned my lesson.
I shouldn’t have said anything until I had my feet planted firmly in reality. These are the times I wish I could know peace—even for a few days. I should make it a goal to think before I speak. This is why it’s so much safer to live in my mind than to live in the mess that’s my life.
But seriously, was it necessary for his lips to brand themselves on mine? Dear Universe, why do you hate me so much? It’s an extra shameful kick to the teeth because I’ve kissed exactly two men in my life. One felt like kissing a brother, and the other still makes me forget all my fears.
At least Grady and I stayed friends.
It serves me right that the only person besides Ainsley who cares about my double life is someone who feels more like a brother.
When Grady stumbled into the New York City bookstore hosting the one and only signing I’ve ever done, I’m sure that the cranky girl from his hometown was not who he was expecting. Not when his own life had imploded the year before, leaving him with an ex-fiancée and enough rage to light up an entire city.
We bonded over trauma we were both too young to have experienced while walking through Central Park.
The next week, he accidentally found me at The Landing, where my sister died, and unlike other Hope Hollowans, he has always respected my boundaries. It helps that we both kind of hate people.
It makes Grady a perfect friend.
We’re there for each other when it counts, and over the years, we’ve become each other’s secret keepers. He’s the only one I confided in about Dante, but I didn’t even tell him the entire truth. Thankfully he’s never judged me—not too much, anyway.
Staying friends with Dante would have been impossible. We’ve always been too combustible. And he would have spent a lifetime trying to fix me. It would have ruined him because the darkness that nipped at my soul through childhood claimed me wholly the day my sister died.
