Angel of Redemption (22 page)

“
Oh?
”
I ask, walking toward him. I stop about two feet in front
of him, looking up. His hand goes to run through his hair, but he seems to
realize that he still has his knit hat on, so he slips it behind his neck
instead.

“
Yeah. I shouldn
’
t have
…
I didn
’
t mean to be such a
…”
His eyes are darting all around, but finally they meet
mine.
“
I
’
m sorry.
”

I
don
’
t
say anything in response
—
not because I don
’
t have anything to say, but I
’
ve learned that most people don
’
t like the awkward silence, so they
keep talking. I want Dean to keep talking. There
’
s
got to be more to him than the persona he puts on.

He
doesn
’
t
disappoint.

“
It
’
s just that Emily really likes you,
”
he mumbles.

“
Emily
…
likes me,
”
I repeat.

“
Yeah. And, uh, she doesn
’
t have a lot of girlfriends, so
…”

“
So you
’
re apologizing to me for the sake of
your sister-in-law?
”

“
Yeah
—
I
mean, no.
”
Dean furrows his brow and scratches
the back of his neck.
“
I
…
well,
we have to work together, too.
”
I stare at him incredulously. Dean
closes his eyes and lets out a groaning sigh.
“
I
can
’
t
say shit right, so I
’
m just going to shut the fuck up.
”
He looks flustered. I grin at him.
“
What?
”
he snaps.

“
Nothing,
”
I giggle.

“
Are you laughing at me?
”
he asks. His voice is a little abrasive, but I can see his
mouth fighting against the urge to smile.

“
No.
”

“
Yes, you are.
”
He loses his battle
—
one side of his mouth curls upward.

“
Okay, I sort of am, but you
’
re kinda cute when you
‘
can
’
t say shit right
.
’
“
I use my fingers to quote him. Dean glares at me, but there
’
s no malice behind it.

“
Cute?
”

“
Uh-huh.
”
I nod.

“
I
’
m not cute.
”

“
Yeah, you
’
re kinda cute.
”

“
Kayla,
”
he warns in a low, gravelly voice that makes my heart speed
up a bit.

I
throw my hands up, palms out in acquiescence.
“
Okay,
I
’
ll stop.
”

“
Thank you.
”

My
phone buzzes and I pull it out. It
’
s a text from Andy.

I
type back quickly.

Shoving
the phone back into my pocket, I return my attention to Dean.

“
For what it
’
s worth,
”
I say.
“
I
’
m sorry, too. I overreacted. Brody
…
well, let
’
s just say he
’
s not a very nice guy. I was upset.
”

Dean
nods. He pushes the sleeves of his shirt up slightly.
“
Do you want to talk about it?
”
It
’
s such a simple
gesture—the
offer to listen—but
it feels like more. I
’
ve never told anyone what happened
with Brody. I was hurt and just wanted to forget about it. But now this man I
barely know is asking me if I want to share something incredibly personal. And
while most of me would rather just shake my head and walk away, a part of me
really wants to tell him.

“
Are you just asking to be polite, or
do you really want to know?
”
I ask.

Dean sits down on the arm of the couch and folds his arms
across his chest.
“
I don
’
t
ask things just to be polite.
”

“
Somehow I don
’
t doubt that,
”
I mumble. I briefly consider what to do before realizing
that my mind is already made up. I sit down on one of the leather chairs and
clasp my hands together in my lap.

“
Okay. Uh, well. Brody and I ran in the
same circles as teenagers,
”
I start.
“
His father is a friend of my stepdad. I guess that should
have been my first hint.
”
I shake my head, thinking about how stupid I was.
“
I saw him a few times in college and over the years at
parties thrown by mutual friends. Last year we hooked up at a bar.
”
Dean is looking at me, his jaw tight, but gives me a nod to
continue.

“He seemed like a decent guy,” I admitted. “He was
fun. I wasn’t looking for anything serious.” I roll my eyes. “I guess he
thought we were more serious than we were.
He asked me to move in with him, and I said no. I thought
that was the end of it, but
one day he just showed up at my house and
started packing my things into boxes.”

The
memories flood back as I speak. My chest begins to ache as my throat dries up.

“
I
asked him what he was doing. He laughed at me
—
I
mean, I guess it was a pretty dumb question since it was obvious what he was
doing, but I didn
’
t know why.
”
I sniffle and shove my thumbnail into my mouth briefly
before returning my hand to my lap.
“
He
got pissed when I told him I wasn
’
t
going anywhere. We started fighting. He accused me of sleeping with Andy.
”

“
Your brother?
”
Dean asks, looking confused.

“
Yeah. Stepbrother, but still. I
thought he was joking. I told him he was crazy and tried to walk away from him,
but he yanked me backward. I pulled away, but the next thing I knew, his fist
connected with my stomach. He knocked the wind out of me. At first I was angry.
I screamed at him. And then he backhanded me across the face. I
’
m not sure how many times he hit me before I ended up on
the floor.
”

I
don
’
t look up at Dean as I say this. I
’
m afraid of what I
’
ll
see. The whole incident was embarrassing. I
’
ve
always been a strong, independent woman. But in that moment, I didn
’
t feel like one. Just the memory of it is enough to strip
every bit of confidence from me.

“
When he was done hitting me, he just
stood there like he was expecting me to do something. But I was afraid to move.
His boots were right by my head, and I closed my eyes and waited for the next
blow.
”
I shake my head.
“
It never came. I stayed on the ground until I heard his car
drive away.
”

I
take a deep breath in through my nose and let it out slowly between my lips.
Straightening myself up, I finally glance up at Dean. The expression on his
face is hard to read. There doesn
’
t
seem to be any emotion whatsoever. But his eyes are on fire
—
like he
’
s staring right through me. I look
away.

“
He tried to call me the next day,
”
I continue.
“
I guess after he realized what he
’
d done
…
I don
’
t know. He texted and sent emails and
flowers. I never responded. I had nothing to say to him, and I didn
’
t want to give him the opportunity to make me feel that way
ever again.
”

“
Did you tell Andy?
”
Dean
’
s voice is strained.

“
I
’
ve never told anyone. Not before now.
”
I let out a nervous chuckle.
“
Sara
still thinks he
’
s
this amazing guy with asshole tendencies. But all men have asshole tendencies,
so she thinks I overreacted. She doesn
’
t understand why I let him
‘
slip
through my fingers.
’”

Dean
’
s breathing gets a little louder, and
I wonder what
’
s
going through his head. His hands are clenching and unclenching.

“
Why
’
d you tell me?
”
he asks quietly.

I
shrug.
“
I don
’
t know. You did me a favor. I guess I
thought you deserved to know why I reacted the way I did.
”

“
I should
’
ve kicked his ass,
”
he growls.
“
If I had known last weekend, I would
have.
”

“
And where would that have gotten you?
”
I scoff.
“
It doesn
’
t matter. He won
’
t bother me now. He thinks we
’
re together. You were pretty
convincing.
”
I feel my body heat at the memory of
Dean pressed up against me. He raises his eyebrows.

“
But we
’
re not together,
”
he says flatly.

“
No, we
’
re
not,
”
I reply, lowering my eyes. I hadn
’
t really considered my attraction to Dean as more than a
physical thing. But the ache in my chest is telling me that there is so much
more to my desire. Despite his rapid mood swings and occasional episode of
foot-in-mouth disease, I like being around him. I like the way he makes me feel
—
the fluttering in my stomach, the racing of my pulse. I
almost feel like a teenager again.

“
What happens if you run into him again
?”
he asks.

“
I hadn
’
t seen him in almost nine months,
”
I continue, shrugging.
“
This
is a big city. The chances of me seeing him again are pretty low.
”
I stick my thumbnail in my mouth again.
“
I shouldn
’
t have bothered you with my shit.
”

“
You can bother me any time you like,
Kayla,
”
he says firmly.
“
Besides, you didn
’
t bother me, I asked. Look, if we
’
re going to be friends
—”

“
You want to be friends?
”
I interrupt, raising my eyebrows.