Tempest Tossed: A Love Unexpected Novel (18 page)

Chapter 2—Dylan

“I don’t know the extent of what my father knew when we were very little. But as we grew older, he had to have known just what a sick woman his beloved Francesca was.  So he just stayed away. A lot. He built his empire while his two offspring were being killed by inches. Dawn was always more delicate than I was. She was . . . she was so sweet, Rene. She loved everybody, even our mother. The rare times my dad was around, she followed him like a puppy. She’d sit on his knee and play with his tie . . .” I choked on the memories.

I hadn’t loved either of my parents like Dawn did. Her big blue eyes would fill with tears every time my father left but she’d always welcome him home as if his return was the greatest gift she could imagine.

“I think my father blamed me somehow.”

Rene stood up and began to pace angrily. Who could fault her? It was an angry tale. “How could he blame you? What for?”

“For not being stronger. For not telling someone—anyone—what our mother was doing.”

“You were a kid! That’s ridiculous. How were you supposed to know what was going on?”

“Maybe if I’d told Kelly. Or the doctors. But the thing is we kept switching doctors and clinics. I think she had to do that to cover herself.”

“
For God’s sake
. You can’t possibly believe any of it was your fault.” I turned away and stared at the wall. “Dylan, look at me. Look in my eyes. None of this was your fault.
None.
”

Her brandy eyes were on fire. I’d never seen that kind of anger in them. I was relieved. Anger was way more acceptable than pity.

“After mother and Dawn went away, my father put me into intensive therapy. He staffed the house with some decent honest people who kept it running and brought a semblance of ‘normal’ to my life. The Robertsons were a nice couple and they tried to get close to me. But I wouldn’t have anything to do with them. I’d been burned too badly.”

“I became strong enough to go to school. I went to a fancy private school where no one asked and I didn’t tell. Academically, I did fine. I did well enough to go to a good university. I got strong enough to do just about anything physically that caught my fancy. I became known as a real dare devil—the first to bungee jump, sky-dive, ride the wildest surf, snowboard down the knarliest hill. I discovered sex a little late but found out I had a talent for it.” I smiled at her for the first time since I started my tale of woe. She smiled back, but just barely.

“You
do
have a talent for it. Like no one I’ve ever known. But don’t stop your story to flirt with me. This is too important.”

“There isn’t much more to tell you. I met Stephen on the docks just about when I finished my last intensive therapy. He was my first ‘friend’ except for Dawn. I never told him why I was so weird and he was kind enough to accept me as strange as I must have been. When I came back to Lauderdale on breaks, we spent our time together. And when I got out of school we just hung together naturally.”

“How did you wind up on El Loco?”

“Dad wanted to give me something to do. He wanted to keep me out of the way, entertained and largely invisible. I was young, it seemed like a deal. I also figured he owed me for being such a useless excuse for a father. Stephen was a natural choice and I can’t lie and say it’s been a drag these past years. We’ve had fun.”

“But now?”

“I got restless. I’m ready to feel useful. I may still have my problems but as long as I stay away from attack fish who bring me to my knees, I feel pretty well under control.”

“I understand why hospitals freak you out now. But I don’t understand . . .”

“Why I gave you the cold shoulder on your birthday after we made love?” I had to say it. It might have been ‘just sex’ at the time, but the memory had evolved. I couldn’t consider it anything else now. We had ‘made love’.

“Yes. What did I do?”

“You weren’t there when I woke up.” I sort of hung my head, a little ashamed.

“I had to get dinner going!”

“Rationally, I understand that. But even though my head is mostly healed, I still get anxiety attacks. When I woke up and you were gone, it triggered one. It scared the shit out of me. Literally. I hadn’t had one in a long, long time.”

“My mother had those occasionally. She said they made her feel like she was going to have a heart attack.”

“Exactly. And other nasty side effects. But the point is I had this moment where I felt the same sense of abandonment as I felt as a kid. And because the brain loves to screw with you that made me go off.”

“That makes a sort of sense, but why were you angry with me afterwards?”

“I wasn’t angry. I was terrified.”

“Of what?” she asked. She must have known but she wanted to hear me say it anyway.

I patted the bed and she sat down beside me. I took her hands in mine. The story was told and I was ready to touch her again, if she wanted to be touched. “Rene, I’ve never let myself get close enough to a woman to allow myself that kind of reaction. When you had gone from the bed, I was stricken. All my devils came out. I guess I just needed some time to put them back in their boxes.”

She went oddly silent. When she looked at me I couldn’t read her at all. I instantly started to regret my confession. I sensed that without moving, she was running screaming from the room putting as much distance as she could between herself and the damaged goods lying on the bed beside her.

“You’ve been through so much,” she said at last.

“You deserved to know.”

“It’s just so complicated.
You’re
so complicated.”

“Guilty as charged.”

“A lot of things make much more sense now. Thank you for telling me. It couldn’t have been easy.”

“It wasn’t. Most of the time I really try not to dwell on the past.”

“I can’t say I blame you. Your past is pretty awful.”

What can you expect a woman to say when she hears a tale like mine? I decided she needed time to digest it all. I wanted to hold her and tell her it would all be okay. No, truthfully, I wished
she
would hold
me
and tell me it would all be okay. But she didn’t grant my wish.

Rene stood up and started to pace again. I could see her gathering her thoughts as if they were tangible things scattered around the room. There was a thought when her glance fell on the window, another when she scanned over the dresser, yet another when she came back and looked at my face.

After they had all been collected, she spoke.

“I’m not a psychologist but even a layman like me can figure out that you must have some terrible obstacles to trusting anyone who cares for you. Especially a woman. I totally understand that. And I am flattered and touched that you’ve chosen to open up to me like this.”

“But?”

“It’s a heavy load.” Her pretty eyes were shining with unshed tears. “I don’t know if I can handle you. I . . . don’t know if I’m ready for something this heavy. When we started this I made a calculated decision to take it easy, have fun and enjoy the hottest, sexiest, richest—or so I thought at the time—man I’d ever be lucky enough to play with. And that’s what I thought you were. A player.”

“And I had the nerve to go all human on you,” I added bitterly. “And have the gall not to be rich.”

“That’s not what I meant at all and you know it.”

“No, I don’t know it. You’re telling me that my story has suddenly made me less desirable? And remember, I did tell you about my lack of funds before the fact.”

“You’re just as desirable. Damn it, Dylan don't make it seem like it meant nothing to me. It’s just that I wasn’t expecting so much . . . baggage.”

“Didn’t you tell me not two days ago in the hospital that ‘baggage’ was part of who I am?”

“Yes, but . . .”

“But nothing. Maybe you were expecting an overprotective mother in addition to the cold distant father. Maybe you thought there was a heartbreak lurking in the background. Predictable baggage everyone carries around. You’re standing in front of me now, a quivering pile of hesitation because my baggage happens to be filled with pure stinking lead.”

“It’s just difficult to swallow it all.”

“Well don’t. I wouldn’t want you to choke on it.” The girl was a coward. She was acting as if the story I told her was going to somehow wear off on her and taint her predictable middle class existence with its predictable adolescent crushes and heartbreaks. I should have known better. “There’s a damn good reason I haven’t gotten close to anyone and this is it. Whatever possessed me to bare my soul to you?”

“Now you’re over reacting. What do you want me to say? The most logical human response is the one you won’t allow me to have. So you don’t want my sympathy. Do you want my applause?” She began to clap her hands slowly and dramatically. “There you go. Here’s to you, Dylan Cruz, for surviving a nightmare I couldn’t even imagine. Here’s to having an excuse to behave like a horse’s ass whenever it suits you.”

“Get out. Just leave me alone.”

“I will get out. But first let me tell you something. You want my understanding but you can’t give me five minutes to come to grips with all that you’ve told me. When I didn’t say or react the way you wanted me to—because I can’t read your mind, you know—you turn on me like some rabid beast.”

I bared my teeth and growled at her.

“You know what? You don’t need my sympathy or anyone else’s for that matter. You feel sorry enough for you all by yourself!”

The angry set to her jaw and the stiff belligerent posture couldn’t mask the confusion of tears brimming in her eyes. My pride wouldn’t let me call her back. My fear wouldn’t let me beg her to stay.

Chapter 3—Rene

He shattered me. I fell onto my bed, weak and drained. I had so many conflicting thought swirling through my head that it was making me nauseous.

Hannah had called and I missed it. She was offline now because she was working and not being able to talk to her depressed me even more.

The Wikipedia entry on Munchausen’s by proxy didn’t help. Reading the clinical description of one of the sickest things I’d ever heard of made me weep inside for Dylan. But that didn’t lessen my urge to run away from the train wreck as fast as I could. There was no way I wanted to be part of the horror story going on in his head.

I went through the motions of getting the crew fed and sent dinner to the master stateroom via Angelo. I pulled my little suitcase out of the closet and stared at it. I could leave; I could just flee the scene of the accident and be gone. That would officially make me the horrible person Dylan undoubtedly already thought I was.

Air. I needed air. The night sky, the cityscape, the slap of the dirty water on El Loco’s flanks would help me clear my head. I left the suitcase open on the bed where it dared me to come back and fill it up.

It surprises me how quickly a person becomes used to something. The days at sea had swept through me. My ‘new normal’ had become clear salty breezes, sea birds and clean water as far as I could see. The smell of London and the rankness of the water hit my head hard. As ports go, I suspected this was not a particularly nasty one. Canary Wharf was a pretty swanky address and well kept. But it was still attached to a major city and the waters had been well used for centuries.

I leaned over the transom and watched the lights swirl over the oily surface of the water. Part of me felt like barfing over the side. I felt like I needed to purge myself of the poison that invaded me through the tale of Dylan’s life.

“Good to be back on board, isn’t it?” I turned to see Stephen, backlit from the salon lights, beer bottle in hand. “I’m glad the boss decided to leave the hospital. He wouldn’t have been happy there for long and I don’t know how long I could have kept the old man out of his room.”

“He found us at the hotel.” I hated the odious bastard even more now that I had learned what a monster he was.

“So I understand. He’s a real sweetheart, huh?” Stephen took a long swig of his beer. “Can I get you something?”

“No thanks.” Alcohol wasn’t going to do anything to help me sort out the mess in my head.

“So, I’m dying to know. Did the boss spill his guts to you?” It was a bad choice of words. I felt my mouth start to water in pre-puke mode and swallowed hard.

The revelation that Stephen was privy to what should have been between Dylan and I alone really threw me. “Dylan discussed this with you?” It ticked me off more than a little to think that he had talked about something so intimate with Stephen before he told me.

“He discussed talking to you. I’m still in the dark about what was so potentially life altering about it. And I have to admit I’m damn curious.”

“What did Dylan say to you?”

“That’s kinda between Dylan and I, don’t ya think?”

“Stephen, please. This is really important to me.” When he didn’t speak, I begged. “Please, please tell me what he said. I need to know.”

“Okay. It wasn’t all that much. He just wanted to know if I thought that you would bolt if he told you the story of his bizarre childhood. Like I said, he didn’t give me details. I’ve known Dylan had a rough opening act. Just knowing his father makes that much clear. But I guess there’s a lot more or he wouldn’t have been so torn up about telling you.”

“Oh God,” I groaned.

“Sure surprised me that he actually asked me for advice about a chick. Dude’s been beating them off just fine until you came along. He never needed any of my opinions before.”

“What did you tell him?” The only thing that was preventing me from hurling was morbid curiosity about the train wreck I’d made of the past couple hours.

“I told him he’d probably have to tell you sooner or later and asked him if he trusted you?”

“And he said?”

“He said he trusted you more than he’s ever trusted any woman.”

“Oh no.” Could I have behaved any worse?

“Rene, what happened?”

“Just tell me the rest.”

“Not much left to tell. I’ve never actually seen him so . . . human. He told me he felt like there were things you needed to know. That there were truths about him you needed to understand. I told him to take a shot.”

I leaned over the transom and considered jumping into the dirty water and just swimming away. My temples throbbed with the horrible realization that I had done exactly what Dylan had feared I would do. I couldn’t massage them hard enough to make the thought go away.

“So are you going to tell me what happened or do I get to stand here and wonder?”

“Oh Stephen, I failed him miserably. I couldn’t handle it. He was right to worry. I’m afraid I did exactly what he was afraid I would do.”

“You mean to tell me that you . . .”

“More or less rejected him? Yes.”

“Wow. That’s harsh. You don’t strike me as the type to just ditch someone you so obviously care about. I mean, I saw how you nursed him and how you worried. I was sure you were pretty serious about Dylan.”

“I am! But I’m just not sure I’m ready to take on the kind of issues he’s got. Okay? Call me immature.”

“I’d call you cold.” Stephen’s face was a study in disappointment.

“I deserve that.”

“You 're right as rain about that, sister. I’m sorry but here’s a guy who opens up to you—which is what women are always asking for—and you bail on him? Do you have any idea what that’s got to do to him?”

“You aren’t making it any easier. I didn’t say I’m bailing on him. All I said was that I needed some time to think. Then he went off on me.”

“I can’t say I blame him, Rene. The man agonizes over telling you a story he hasn’t even told me—his best friend. The great Dylan Cruz was actually afraid to share his deepest and darkest because he didn’t want to freak you out. And what do you do? You freak out.”

“I did not
freak out
. I just asked for some time to digest it all.”

“Have you ever told someone you love him and he doesn’t say it back?”

“No.”

“Well, it’s terrible. Not saying it back is just the same as saying ‘well, I don’t love you’. You just did that to Dylan, only it was him giving you his trust and you needing time to think.”

“Stephen, please  . . .”

“No. We’re talking about the best friend I have in the world. He opened up a wound and you poured salt into it. What the hell can be so terrible—tell me!—that you’d walk away? How can someone’s past
be so important? Did he rape his babysitter? Did he off his sister? Does he have an incurable inherited disease that you can catch?”

“He was abused.”

“Big deal. See this pretty smile of mine? Nice dentistry, huh? My dad knocked four of my front teeth out when I was sixteen over a lost fish. I’ve never had a girlfriend reject me because of it.”

“It’s more than that. A lot more.”

“Whatever. I’m going in and see if I can pour a bottle of Grey down the poor guy’s throat.” He looked at me with utter contempt. “I really believed Dylan had found someone different. I liked you. A lot.”

“Stephen, you don’t understand.”

“You’re absolutely right. I
don’t
understand. But I sure understand now why Dylan was worried about telling you his sad story. And I feel like a real dog for encouraging him to go for it.”

“None of this is your fault.”

“You’re right. But unlike you, I have at least some loyalty to the man and I’m going to do what I can to help him.” Stephen left me standing in the cockpit just as a damp stinky wind blew over the deck. I didn’t think it was possible to feel worse than I did when I left Dylan’s room, but I was wrong. I couldn’t blame the captain for ripping into me like that. I deserved it in spades.

I dropped into one of the chairs on deck and started to cry big, sorry-for-myself tears. I felt utterly alone and incredibly stupid. The big girl pants that Hannah always wanted me to pull up were nowhere in sight. I had acted with the maturity of a ten year old and hurt someone I truly cared about in the bargain.

It was impossible to rationalize my way out of the utter shallowness of my reaction. Yes, Nathan had been a royal jerk who always claimed his crappy attitude toward women was his mother’s fault. But Dylan wasn’t Nathan. Not even close.

I dragged myself out of the deck chair and walked through the palatial salon toward the hall that would lead me to Dylan’s room. I checked myself when I remembered that Stephen would be in there consoling him. So I just made a sad left turn and crawled into my little cave at the back of the galley.

Escaping into sleep, I dreamed of Dylan. Dylan naked in the night light of the kitchen lights. Dylan laughing in the sun with beautiful women. Dylan strong and feral, hunting the big fish. Dylan owning my body with his.

I woke up in the middle of the night, saturated with images of him. There’d been so little time since we arrived in London for me to digest all that had happened. In the silent aftermath of my dreams I remembered how it had felt to watch over him as he fought for his life against the deadly infection. Every molecule in my body had willed him to live. Plenty of moments had me praying that I could suck the fever from him with the force of my . . . love for him.

So, I said it to myself. I loved him. Maybe that was the scariest part of all. My mother always told me that you don’t love a person just ‘because of’. She said that you also love a person ‘in spite of’. That never seemed very romantic to me.  But it made sense. I loved Dylan for his complexity, for his pure animal heat, for his powerful masculinity, for his humanity and humor. I loved him in spite of the damaged parts, the broken family and his cynical past.

When I battled myself back to a calmer sleep, it was with a plan. In the morning, I’d tell him how I felt and hope that he would forgive my hesitation and abandonment. He had to.