With Strings Attached (30 page)

“Ah.” Matt crossed his arms. “Okay. We were starting to wonder if you were still going to leave tonight.”

Dylan gave a lopsided smile and shoved his hands into the pockets of his baggy cargo shorts. “You trying to get rid of me?”

“Of course not. But…” Matt forked his fingers through his hair. “You can stay as long as you want, buddy. But…” He glanced at Corey. He still didn’t know. Should they tell Dylan what they knew? Maybe he needed some help.

She gave a tiny nod. “Dylan,” she said. “We need to talk.”

“Oh, those are words every guy likes to hear,” he said sardonically. “Sure. Let’s talk.”

“Let’s go in your room,” she suggested. She looked at Matt as she stood and walked toward Dylan. He didn’t want them disappearing alone into his guest room but what could he do? If they had feelings for each other…hell. His insides knotted and he lowered himself to sit on his couch.

He clasped his hands between his knees and looked down at the floor. He cared for both of them, and if they had feelings for each other, what could he do but step aside and let them be together? Even though it made him feel like his chest was an empty, frozen cavity.

Dylan followed Corey down the short hall and into the room he’d been staying in the last few weeks. He’d started packing yesterday and his suitcase was on the floor, nearly full of clothes. He sat on the edge of the unmade bed and patted the space beside him.

She sat, not right next to him, but a little ways away, and turned sideways, tucking one leg beneath her. Her eyes were serious and sad. “Hey,” he said. “Don’t look so worried. I’m fine.” He held his arms out at his sides and grinned.

One corner of her mouth kicked up. “Are you?”

“Sure.”

“Dylan. Why didn’t you tell us what really happened when you got hurt?”

He frowned. What was she talking about?
Oh
. “You mean when I broke my foot?”

“Yes, that’s what I mean. It wasn’t a little fall off a board. I just read a news article about it on the Internet. You nearly drowned.”

Ah. He drew in a long slow breath. “Yeah. Well.” He looked past her and focused on a framed photograph of a sailboat on the wall. “I didn’t drown. So it didn’t really matter.”

“It didn’t matter,” she repeated, her head slowly moving from side to side.

“It wasn’t something I really wanted to talk about, either.”

“Is that what the nightmares are about?”

Hell. His muscles jumped and twitched beneath his skin as the urge to flee kicked in, his heart slamming against his ribs. “Shit. I don’t want to talk about this, Corey.”

“Maybe you should.” She laid a hand on his thigh. He looked down at it. “Maybe that would help. Did you talk to…anyone?”

“About the accident?” He shook his head. “No. I told you, I don’t want to talk about it.”

“You need to get back in the water.”

“Yeah, about that. I’ve been kind of thinking that maybe surfing’s not really gonna work out for me. I’ve been away from it for weeks now and it’s gonna be hard to get back into it, and what am I really doing it for anyway? Maybe I should find something more important to do with my life.”

“Dylan.”

He looked at her, saw the fierce expression on her face. His gut tightened painfully.

“That’s ridiculous. You’re incredibly talented. When I was reading those Internet articles they all said that. You’re one of the top surfers in the world. You can’t quit now. You have a great shot at winning it all one day.”

He shrugged.

“You can do it,” she said urgently. She grabbed his hands and squeezed.

“I need you, Corey.”

She tipped her head back and swallowed. “I can’t come with you. You know that. And you also know…you don’t really need me.”

“I do.”

Her eyes narrowed at him. “Why now?”

“Huh?”

“Why do you need me now? You’ve been here for weeks. You never even bothered to tell Matt or me about what happened. And don’t say it didn’t matter. Something like that
matters
, Dylan. I thought we were friends.”

“We are friends.” He frowned at her.

“Friends don’t keep secrets,” she said. “Friends help each other. And they let their friends help them. We could’ve helped you, Dylan. Maybe. If you’d at least told us what was going on.”

“Matt asked,” he muttered, looking down at his hands. “I didn’t want to seem like a big loser. Or even more of a loser than I already was.”

“Matt cares about you,” she said, reaching out and covering his hands with one of hers. “He never would’ve made you feel like a loser. And neither would I. You should have told us and you should have let us help you.”

She
was telling him that? Corey, who’d take help from no one? He looked up at her and searched her face. “Maybe you should take your own advice, babe.”

Her forehead creased. “What? This isn’t about me. I’m just saying, you didn’t care or trust me enough to tell me what had happened. You’re not in love with me, Dylan. We don’t love each other. I care about you a lot. I really do. But…”

“Just as a friend.”

She nodded, pulling in her bottom lip a little and holding his gaze.

Dylan laughed, trying to keep the bitterness out of it. “Matt complains about girls always telling him that. They just want to be friends. He’s everybody’s best friend. But I have to say, I’ve never heard that line from a girl before. Kinda funny, isn’t it?”

She wrinkled her nose at him. “He complains about that?”

Dylan studied her. He’d known right from the start that no matter what they said, there was a lot more than friendship between her and Matt. Neither of them seemed to realize it. Much as he cared about Corey, much as he wanted to be with her, he couldn’t come between that. A knife turned slowly in his chest and breathing became almost as difficult as it had when he’d been trapped under water.

“You’re right,” he said. “I don’t love you.” He squeezed the words out and tried to look happy. “I care about you the same way. We’re friends. We had fun.”

“I know you’re scared,” she whispered, still holding his hands. “It’s totally understandable after what happened. Hell. I…I never learned how to swim, and when I started taking swimming lessons, just putting my face in the water scared the crap out of me. I can imagine being trapped underwater, unable to breathe, how scary it must have been.”

“No, you can’t,” he said harshly, his heart exploding into a fast rhythm.

“Then tell me,” she challenged him.

He couldn’t. He didn’t want to talk about it. He covered his eyes with one hand, feeling like someone was ripping his heart out of his chest. “It was awful, Corey,” he whispered. “So fucking terrifying. I couldn’t breathe, couldn’t get myself free. I was fighting with the goddamn leash, trying to get it off, to get free, my hands weren’t working, my foot felt like it was on fucking fire it hurt so bad, and I was panicking. I knew I was going to die. My life didn’t flash before my eyes, like they always say, I was too busy fighting, and then that moment I couldn’t hold my breath any more, not one second longer…
fuck
. Fuck me.” He realized his hand was wet and then arms slid around his body. Corey had moved closer and was hugging him and he tried not to sob, but his eyes were leaking goddamn tears. “Fuck,” he croaked again, still covering his eyes. What a fucking assmunch he was, crying like a girl, and in front of someone. In front of Corey.

“It’s okay,” she crooned, holding him tight and he absorbed the comfort of her embrace. “It’s okay.”

They stayed like that for a long time while he fought for control of his emotions, his face pressed against her hair. “I was fine,” he said a long time later, his voice husky. “When I came to on the beach, I was fine. My foot was busted, but I was alive. I was pissed because I was going to have to drop out, but I was fine. And then the nightmares started. Flashbacks. The first time I had a shower and turned my face into the water, I had a…a panic attack, I guess. I got all dizzy and almost fell over in the shower. That scared the hell out of me almost as much as drowning had. I didn’t know what was wrong with me. I went to the doctor, thinking I had some kind of inner ear infection or something, and when he told me it was a panic attack, I laughed at him. That was the stupidest thing I’d ever heard. But it happened again. And I couldn’t sleep. I kept reliving it all and waking up soaked in sweat and shaking.”

He’d never told a freakin’ soul any of this. He didn’t want to look weak, didn’t even want to admit his own weakness to himself. But the words poured out of him now, Corey’s sweetness and comfort making him feel safe. Safer than he’d felt in weeks.

“I think that’s a pretty normal reaction to nearly dying,” she said, her face against his chest, her arms around him. “But maybe you should get some professional help, Dylan.”

“I don’t need a shrink, for Chrissake.”

She pulled back to look up at him. “There’s no shame in it, Dylan. I saw a therapist for a long time to be able to deal with what happened to me, and with my mom’s mental illness.”

“You did?” He gazed down into her face, her eyes open and sympathetic, not judgmental, just…soft.

She nodded. “I never told you much about my mom or my childhood, but I was pretty messed up.” The brief story she told him pierced his bubble of self-absorption and made his chest ache for her instead. “I had some therapy. It helped me. It could help you.”

She’d been scared too. He closed his eyes, finally uttering the words that had haunted him. “I’m so scared,” he whispered.

“Is that why you haven’t tried surfing?”

He nodded and rubbed his forehead, again holding his hand over his eyes. “I’ve always respected the ocean. You have to. But you can’t be afraid. I can’t win a world championship when I’m afraid. And…” His voice cracked embarrassingly. “I don’t know how to do anything else but surf. It’s all I’ve ever wanted to do.”

“Then that’s all the more reason to get help,” she said firmly. “Because you
are
going to win a world championship. You know, when I met you and heard you talk about surfing I thought you had to be the bravest person in the world.”

He snorted. “As if.”

“Seriously. I told you how much it scared me to put my face in the water. It was partly because of you that I decided I was going to learn how to swim, even if it killed me.” She looked straight into his eyes. “I wanted to be as brave as you. I wanted to take a risk.”

For a long moment he said nothing, emotions flickering in his eyes, and then he groaned softly and hugged her again. “Oh, Corey.” They sat like that, holding each other.

“If you want to stay here a while longer, Matt and I will help you,” she whispered. “Anything. We’ll do whatever you need.”

She thought he was brave enough to do it. He took a breath. “No. I can’t stay. I have to go.” He couldn’t stay around and watch her and Matt together. Even if they did say they were “just friends”.

“Do you think there’s someone you could see about this? Talk to?”

“Yeah. There are actually a couple of people I know who go to sports psychologists to help with the mental part of competing. I never have, but…I could ask them about it.”

“That sounds good.”

His gut feeling like a rock, but his mind feeling a ton lighter, he removed Corey’s hands from around his waist, lifted her fingers to his mouth and kissed them. He met her eyes. “Thank you, Corey.” She gave a shaky smile as he rose. “I have to finish packing,” he said. “I need to hit the road soon to get to San Diego for my flight.” He paused. “Corey.”

“What?” She gazed up at him with big liquid green eyes, her little nose dusted with golden freckles, her pretty lips parted.

“You and Matt…” He stopped, unsure of himself. “You’re in love with him, aren’t you?”

Her eyes went wide, then narrow as she frowned. “What?”

He touched her streaky caramel- and butterscotch-colored hair. “You’re in love with him. That’s why you won’t come with me, isn’t it?”

Corey stared up at Dylan. His fingertips trailed over her cheek, her jaw. What? Why was he saying that?

“We’re friends,” she whispered. But once again, like earlier in the coffee shop, it felt wrong to say that. It almost…hurt inside.

Dylan gave her a wry smile. “Sure, babe. Sure. Get outta here. I gotta finish packing.”

She rose to her feet and walked on suddenly stiff legs out of his bedroom. She glanced back at him as she closed the door, but he wasn’t looking at her, he was folding a hoodie that had been lying on the bed.

Was he okay? She nibbled her bottom lip as she returned to the living room. And what the hell had that been about her being in love with Matt?

Matt, who was sitting on his couch, staring into space. He jumped to his feet when she appeared, his hands in fists, which, as she watched, slowly relaxed. He smiled, but it was stiff and the corners of his eyes were tight. He must’ve been worried about Dylan too.

She smiled reassuringly, though she felt a little strained herself. “We talked,” she said. “I think he’s…going to be okay.”

He gave a jerky nod. They looked at each other. The temperature in the room rose and her body felt tight and hot, suddenly aware of him, his big presence, the strength in his wide shoulders, the warmth in his eyes, the utter feeling of safety and security and belonging she had with him.