Suddenly, Sam leans toward me from across the table, raises his hand toward my face, and actually flicks my forehead.
“Ow! Fuck, Sam, what the hell?” I whisper-shout, putting my hand to my forehead and glaring at him.
“Just trying to flick a little sense into you,” he says, wearing a shit-eating grin.
Fuck.Leaning forward with my elbows on the table, I hold my head in my hands. “Fuck, I know. I know you’re right. Do you guys think I can fix this?”
Grace answers. “Dylan, I’d be willing to bet he’s desperate to talk to you, but he’s trying to give you the space you asked for. I know I haven’t spent a ton of time with you two yet, but the way he looks at you…” She shakes her head. “Even caught up in my madness the other night, I couldn’t miss it. Right, you guys?” She turns to the other two, who nod like a couple of bobbleheads.
“I don’t think you need to do anything besides tell him the truth, say you’re sorry, and trust him.” She pauses. “So, you fucked this up. We all fuck things up in relationships. Just own it. No excuses, just apologize and promise to try not to do it again.”
“You make it sound pretty simple,” I grumble.
“Because it is simple, dumbass,” Mason says.
“But why do I feel like puking when I think about talking to him?”
The three of them exchange glances again. “Probably because you love him,” Sam says casually, grabbing more chips from the basket on the table.
After raising my eyebrows at Sam dropping that nugget casually into the conversation, I blow out a deep breath.
“You might be right. I think I do love him,” I whisper miserably. “I’m fucking terrified, you guys. What if he hates me now? I was such a dick. Why would he want to stick around?”
“Dylan, you need to talk to him. You need to tell him you love him. Yeah, he could tell you to hit the bricks, but then you’ll know. But taking the risk is kind of what it’s all about, you know?” This from Mason.
“He’s not treating you like a hookup or a short-term thing. Yeah, putting yourself out there is risky, but what if he loves you back? You’ve probably given him way more reasons to be nervous than he’s given you,” Sam says.
“But what if the next meltdown is even worse?”
Grace shakes her head. “Dylan, I think you’re missing the point. It sounds like Reed doesn’t give a shit about your meltdown. Give the man a chance to prove that to you.”
I blow out a breath. “Thank you, guys. I’m still nervous as hell, but talking to you guys helps.”
“It’s going to work out, Dyl. I know it is.” Grace smiles, grabbing my hand. “Now, let’s order one last glass. I went to the trouble of pumping breast milk for the kid, so I’m damn well taking advantage of this night. That breast pump is like some kind of medieval torture device.” She shudders.
Mason covers his eyes. “Oh god, no—please, no visuals of my sister and a breast pump… please…” he cries, and Grace throws a balled-up napkin at him.
Suddenly, I get the strong feeling that everything’s going to be okay.
Chapter 28
REED
I’matlooseendsafter getting home from Dylan’s house on Friday morning. I’m still shell-shocked over what happened. I really want to talk to Case, but he mentioned he was going away for the weekend, so that’ll have to wait a couple of days.
My phone does ring, however, but it’s the hospital, begging me to cover several shifts over the next couple of days. Since I no longer have anything better to do, I’m back in the ER for the weekend.
It’s crazy busy, which is exhausting but helpful. The light-speed pace of a weekend in our ER is pretty good for keeping your mind off your own problems and curing insomnia. I challenge anyone to stay awake after a busy shift, no matter what they’re stressed about.
Getting home late Saturday night, I sleep like the dead. I’m on my second coffee Sunday morning, staring out the window at the gloom and listening to the slapping of rain against the windows, when my phone rings.
I pick it up with a grin. “Case, I was just about to call you.”
“Well, you fucking owe me like three calls, asshole,” he says, chuckling.
It’s so good to hear his voice. It’s been too long since we’ve talked in person.
“Jesus Christ, Morrow,” he continues. “Seriously, how many times have I called you now? I leave voicemails, texts, and I get nothin’ but a three-word reply? What the fuck, man? I’ve been considering sending out a search party.”