Dahlia Aldridge
There was no escaping him. I swallowed hard, locking my door and leaning against the wood frame as I examined Stratton. His leather jacket was tossed out on the balcony ledge he had clearly climbed through, and his muscular arms were on display, the sleeves cut off of his black shirt, which was tight and wet from his ride through the rain. I could tell his boots and jeans were dripping water on the floor, but I didn’t care. What did I worry about? The tension running through him. I could see his frustration, concern, and anger.
I had absolutely no idea what to say to him.
Honestly, I wasn’t even positive how I was staying so calm right now. I felt like sobbing and throwing something at him. I felt like going to sleep and ignoring all of this.
I let out a shaky breath, removing my shoes and walking towards my bed, turning on my phone as I looked down at the incoming messages. I tried to not overthink that.
Suddenly, an Instagram direct message popped up from a fake profile that instructed me togofuck yourself. Wonderful. Peachy.
I felt tears well in my eyes as I set my phone upside down on the table before looking up. Swaying back slightly, I realized that Stratton was there, right in my space as he examined the tears streaking down my face. Luckily, he didn’t attach it to my phone, and I could tell by the guilt on his face that he thought I was crying because of him.
Something that was true, in part…
It was just everything, and god, was I over it right now.
My eyes felt gritty and uncomfortable as I ran my fingers over them, smearing my makeup, no doubt. I stared at him, unable to look away. I tried to not let my eyes stray to his tattoos, which seemed to be moving as his muscles tightened with tension. I could feel the connection between us, but unlike normal, there was nothing that I could say. I didn’t understand why he would have said something like that earlier.
He wants nothing to do with you.
“You climbed up my balcony?” I asked, my voice almost a rasp. The idea of him scaling the trellis was sort of hot. Actually, it was super hot. He was like a tattooed Romeo… No. No, he wasn’t because Romeo didn’t talk crap about Juliet, and he never denied wanting her.
Well, except to his family… no. I wasn’t going to justify his BS.
Suddenly, my resolve hardened, my back straightening. I was not going to be weak. As if he saw me firming myself, his jaw clenched.
“Stratton. You need to leave. I promised to hear you out, but honestly, there is nothing to talk about,” I said, feeling strong despite my heart breaking. “I heard exactly what you said.”
“Dahlia,” his voice was rough, his eyes filling with pain at my expression as I pulled a pillow to me, using it as a shield for my heart. “You don’t understand.”
“Do not tell me what I do and do not understand,” I demanded quietly, tears welling in my eyes despite trying to keep it together. “Just leave. Don’t worry, Stratton, I will make sure to not bother you anymore—”
“Angel,” he groaned, sounding miserable. He crouched down so that he was looking up at me, his arms on either side of where I sat. I could feel myself leaning forward as I cursed myself. Why was it so difficult to stay mad at him?
Remember what he said, Dahlia. Just remember.
“Just go,” I demanded softly. “I don’t want to argue. I was just… surprised to hear you felt that way. I’ll get over it.”
“No!” he snarled, pulling on his hair, his expression letting me know he hated that idea. “Just hear me out. I did not mean any of that shit. Those fuckers are from the fight circuit I am part of, and I can’t have them knowing—”
“About me?” I questioned, a tear breaking down my face. “I get it if you didn’t want them assuming I was your girlfriend. Fine. But you could have just told them we were friends, Stratton. I have been nothing but one hundred percent there for you, even though you ignore me and my attempts to be friends again and again… do you know how often I feel stupid for just reaching out to you? But now I just feel like a complete idiot. You don’t even want friendship from me! But I don’t deserve to be talked about like that, and you know it.”
Stratton’s rough, warm hand grabbed my jaw as he pulled me forward, his voice sharp. “Dahlia, angel, this has nothing to do with you. Those assholes are from a group that I go against often. They do this shit to people all of the time, targeting their weaknesses and using it to get them out of the ring. They are part of some dumb gang two towns away. I won’t risk them thinking you mean as much to me as you do. I keep a distance for a fucking reason, and it’s not because I want to.”
I blinked, trying to listen to his words instead of my insecurities. “How muchdoI mean to you?” Maybe my attempts at some form of friendship or relationship hadn’t been in vain…
Stratton’s cool eyes softened and warmed. “You have no idea. No fucking idea. But I can’t bring you into this shit, Dahlia—not until I am done fighting. I am not risking your safety like that.”
“Why don’t you stop?” My hand was shaky as I brushed his jaw lightly.
He closed his eyes, leaning into it, before he answered bluntly. “I wish I could. We need the money, though.”
What?
I paused my hand as Stratton’s body froze as if realizing what he had said. “Stratton, what are you talking about?” Ms. Lori and he had always been fine financially, right? I had never heard there being an issue with it. At least, unless I was missing something major.
He shook his head, moving his gaze to the comforter. “It’s nothing, Dahlia. Just please understand this isn’t you.”