When it was obvious there was nothing else in there, I dropped the bag and put my hands on my face. My cheeks were flaming hot. I peeked through my fingers at my reflection, and a deranged naked woman peered back at me.
That’s it—I was losing my mind. This whole nightmare thing was making me insane. Dallas wasn’t married. He just didn’t want to lead me on. He liked being single. In a way, it would have been easier if a ring had been hidden in the bag. At least I would have had some concrete reason why he didn’t want to see me again.
Angry with myself, because I’d known right from the start what tonight was—and what it wasn’t—I began putting everything back in the bag. Out of curiosity, I glanced at the label on the prescription bottle. Depakote. I’d never heard of it before. The bottle was pretty much full. I tucked it back inside the bag and tried my best to make it look like nothing had been disturbed. But I felt terrible.
I went back into the room, where Dallas was stretched out on his back, hands behind his head, sheet pulled to his waist. He smiled at me, and I felt even worse.
“Come back to bed,” he said.
Ignoring my guilty conscience, I crawled under the sheets, and he pulled me on top of him, my head on his chest.
For a couple minutes, we lay like that, the length of my body along his as he slowly ran his hands up and down my back and I listened to his heartbeat. Our breathing synced, and I felt peaceful inside.
“I was thinking,” he said softly.
“‘Bout what?”
“I don’t have to be in Boston right away.”
I opened my eyes. “No?”
“No. And I was also thinking about what you said earlier. Catching a Tigers game tomorrow, if they’re playing at home.”
I picked up my head and smiled. “That would be fun. I love Comerica Park.”
“Let me grab my phone.” He slipped out from beneath me and walked over to the door, where his jacket lay in a heap on the floor. “Probably I should hang this up.”
I watched, admiring his naked form as he hung his jacket in the closet and shut the door. He came back over to the bed with his phone in his hand and sat down, frowning at the screen.
“No game tomorrow?” I asked.
“No. I mean, I don’t know. I haven’t looked yet. But I have a bunch of texts from my brother I’m going to ignore.”
“Why?”
“Because he bothers me. Okay, let’s see …” He typed and scrolled. “Aha! Oh hell yes, this is perfect.” Looking at me over his shoulder, he grinned. “Tigers vs. Boston Red Sox at Detroit.”
I laughed. “But who will you root for?”
“You know what? I’m gonna get my niece and nephew a bunch of Tigers shit just to bug my brother. He loves the Sox.”
“You’re terrible.”
“I know. I’ll get tickets tomorrow.” He set his phone on the nightstand and plugged it in before snapping off the light. “We should probably get some sleep. I just need to take my contacts out.” He leaned down and kissed me, then headed into the bathroom, closing the door behind him.
I couldn’t believe it—he wasn’t going to leave tomorrow! That could mean he’d changed his mind about seeing me again, couldn’t it? Or at least that he might be willing to consider giving us a chance? Otherwise, why bother? If tonight was really only about having some fun “for old time’s sake,” he could’ve simply dropped me off tomorrow morning and been on his way to Boston. Instead he wanted to stay.
I smiled in the dark.
This was only the beginning. A new beginning. A second chance for a first love.
There was hope for us.
Eight
Dallas
I’d forgotten about the pills.
I stood in the bathroom and stared at my travel bag, which I could have sworn I’d zipped, but was now open, and the bottle of Depakote was plainly in sight.
My stomach went a little queasy at the thought of her seeing it, although it was highly unlikely she would have known what they were for. I took the bottle from my bag and read everything on the label, but there was nothing on it that indicated why someone might take the drug. Still.
Damn it, why had I listened to that neurologist? I didn’t need those stupid pills. And damn Finn for guilting me into bringing them on this trip. I wasn’t even convinced that those dizzy spells I sometimes got were seizures in the first place. I’d seen one doctor who said they were just “stress episodes.”
And I’d only passed out the one time, a month ago, and only for like two seconds. I’d probably just been dehydrated. Or hungry. I hadn’t even felt the tingling in my hand lately. Half of me was convinced the diagnosis was complete bullshit, and the surgery Finn wanted me to have was just him showing off how much smarter he was than me.