Hottest Mess (SIN 2)

"How the hell did you find me so fast? I mean, what? You just assumed I'd run off to LA?" A horrible thought occurs to me. "Deliverance? Electronic surveillance? That is completely warped, Dallas. Intrusive. Invasive. Not to mention rude and just plain icky. How the hell can you justify--"

"Brody," he says.

"What?"

"I called Brody. He told me where you went."

"Oh." I make a note to sic a hundred telemarketers on Brody.

"Don't be too mad at him. I more or less suggested that I couldn't survive without you."

I grimace. "Brody has too soft a heart."

"I also told him that I still have the tickets to the Dominion Gate concert tomorrow night."

I cock my head. "What makes you think I still want to go with you?"

He reaches into his jacket pocket and holds out a small envelope. "They're your present. Your tickets--both of them. Go by yourself. Take a friend. Don't go at all." He meets my eyes. "It's completely up to you."

I keep my mouth closed, forcing myself to say nothing. Instead, I run my tongue over my teeth, then reach out and snag the envelope. I tuck it into my purse, then walk around him to get to my door. The porch is small, and he doesn't move, so I brush up against him as I pull out my keys. Immediately, I feel that shock of awareness, and it seems all the more powerful because I don't want to feel it. I don't want to want him. Not right now, when I'm feeling so raw.

"Jane." His voice is as gentle as the hand he places on my shoulder.

I shrug it off and open the door. I go inside, but I leave the door open. He can follow or not.

It's after noon, and I feel completely justified in having a glass of wine. I find one of my favorite Napa cabernets and pour a very full glass.

Dallas is standing on the other side of my kitchen pass-through. "A glass of that would be very welcome right about now."

I frown. "I'm trying to decide if I'm even letting you stay."

"Jane. Please. Let me--"

"What?" Fresh anger bubbles through me. "Change the past? Take it all back?"

"Explain. Just let me explain."

"Explain why you fucked her--yeah, I know you didn't actually. But for you, you did."

"Explain why I didn't tell you." He looks so lost. So sad. "And, yes, why I was with her. I just want--"

"What?"

He shakes his head, looking not at me but somewhere over my shoulder. "Never mind. I'll give you time."

He starts to head toward the door and suddenly the thought of him leaving seems to cut through me, slicing me to ribbons. "Wait!"

He stops, his back to me. I see the tension in his shoulders, the tightness in his back. And when he turns to face me, I see the hope on his face.

I look down at the ground. I want to hold on to my anger, but it's starting to diffuse. Still there, but now so hard to grasp.

I clear my throat. "If you go, I'll end up drinking the whole damn bottle by myself." I pour him a glass and set it on the pass-through. I nod at it. "You can stay for that long."

"All right, then." He takes a tiny sip. "I'll drink slow."

I almost laugh, but I manage to hold it in.

I stay in the kitchen and he stays on the other side of the bar. I like it that way because the longer he's here, the more I want him to hold me. I'm hurting--and even though it's Dallas who hurt me, he's still the one I crave to give me comfort. Whose arms I want around me while I close my eyes and draw strength.