It's trust, Dallas. Trust and love.
She was giving herself to him so completely it humbled him--and if he took what she was offering without telling her the truth about Deliverance, then he really was a monster.
And he couldn't tell her now. Couldn't say one word without betraying his men.
Goddammit.
Goddammit all to hell.
Slowly, regretfully, he reached over and released her ankles. Then he walked to the head of the bed and uncuffed her wrists.
"Dallas? What's the matter?"
"I'm sorry," he said, because what else could he say? Nothing until he talked to the team.
"Sorry?" She sat up, pulling the bedspread up to cover her.
"I love you. Christ, Jane, I love you so much it hurts. But I can't do this to you. I have to go."
He didn't wait for her to answer. He couldn't even bear to look at her face.
He turned and he left.
And he hated himself every step of the way.
What the hell?
I sit on the bed, a little confused, a little scared, a whole lot worried.
He said he can't do this to me--but do what to me?
Leave me? Apparently so, but I'm certain that's not all of it and I'm angry and hurt and frustrated.
More than that, I'm pissed and I'm embarrassed and I'm determined to figure out what the hell is going on.
I hurry back upstairs and get dressed, tossing on the first jeans and T-shirt I come across. I don't know for certain that he's going to the Hamptons house, but I figure it's a good bet. For one thing, he used to own an apartment in the city, but he sold it recently and hasn't bought a new one yet. For another, even if he's not there, Archie can tell me where he is. And at any rate, right now I'm too wired not to do something.
I consider calling his cellphone, but dismiss the idea. He won't answer, and I'm not interested in playing phone tag. I just want answers.
I just want him.
So I drive too fast through the night, my head filled with worries and fears. I'd known that being with Dallas wouldn't be easy, but I'd really thought that we were communicating now, and this sudden and complete shut-down is truly freaking me out.
Was it me?
Was it seeing Brody? Realizing that I've slept with other men?
Was it the bondage? Because he knows that it scared me?
Why the hell isn't he just talking to me?
Questions run on an endless loop through my mind, but I still have no answers when I arrive at the house. I let myself in, thankful he didn't think to change the lock and alarm codes, then race upstairs to his bedroom.
It's empty, and for a second I think that he stayed in the city. That maybe he just went to his office. Or that he bought an apartment I don't know about.
Or that he's staying with a woman.
I swallow the bile that rises with that thought and start to press the intercom for Archie. But then I remember the security monitors and I push the button to acquire video for the garage. Dallas's car is there, which means that he's here, too. In the house or on the property, and I start scrolling through the screens to look for him.