Dylan(24)

“I still don’t get it, Tess. Shouldn’t I care if you’re hurt?”

She lets out an incredulous laugh. “Care? You? Is this a joke?”

Okay, maybe I deserve this. Still it stings. “Why is it so hard to believe?”

“Why?” She unbuckles her belt and gathers her purse, her hands shaking. “Can’t frigging take this anymore. What is it with men? Dad sold me off, to Sean, for God’s sakes, and you…” She jabs a finger at me. I stare at it. “You care for me? Now? After all this time when you wouldn’t even look at me? Very funny.”

And with that parting line, she opens her door and climbs out.

Still a bit dazed, I do the same. “I’m coming up with you.”

“The hell you are.”

“Does that asshole know where you live?”

I see the last drops of color leech out of her face, and I know the answer to my question. Dammit.

“I’ll be fine,” she mutters.

“I’ll see you to your door, and then I’ll be on my way, Tess.” I slam the door shut, my jaw clenching. “I’m not here to hurt you like he did.”

“Sure you are,” she whispers, so low I’m not sure I heard her right.

Fuck this. I’m so tired my eyes burn, and my brain is stuck on getting her home safe. “Come on. Let’s get you inside before I go back to work.”

And how? I wonder if there’s a bus line nearby. I’ll have to ask her. Later.

Wordlessly, she leads the way into the building. Through a heavy metal door, we enter a lobby coated in glass and mirrors. Tessa hits the button to call the elevator, and I look at our twin reflections.

The princess and the pauper. Or some shit like that. Even though I’m dressed in black jeans and a black shirt, you can see the dark lines of a tattoo climbing up my neck and another peeking out from under my sleeve, part of one of the dragons decorating my body. I have a silver ring in my lip, and although I’ve shaved and my hair is cropped short now, you can’t mistake the wariness in my gaze and the way my shoulders hunch forward. Ready for battle.

Whereas Tessa, she… She’s breathtaking, even barefoot, with her golden hair coming loose, even with her lipstick smeared. She’s tall and slender, her curves hard to miss even through her coat. Figure like an hourglass, and now that I’m finally taking a good look at her, that I’m allowing myself to see what I fought to forget, my mouth runs dry, and my pants feel a size too small.

I focus on the elevator doors. They ding and open. Tessa steps inside, and I follow, too aware of her by my side. She doesn’t look at me. Her breathing stutters, but her eyes are dry.

This is killing me. I never thought Tessa ever needed my help with anything. Always first in her class, with money to spare, a stable family, good friends, kissing a new boy every week… I thought I had her figured out. Thought she’d be just like my mom.

Thought if I’d stayed with her, she’d have walked out on me one day to be with another guy, not glancing back.

She’s never seemed so vulnerable before. In her anger, I see pain. I see wounds. And now I wonder if I caused them.

It’s a nasty thought, and it bothers me much more than I thought it might.

***

We step out of the elevator into a corridor with more mirrors and glass. Our footfalls are muffled on the thick carpet. My reflection mocks me from every direction, so I keep my gaze resolutely forward.

I’ve never been up here. Never been to Tessa’s apartment, and I admit I’m curious. Curious to see how the rich live. How she’s been living while I’ve been scraping at the bottom of the feeding pond.

One more reason why we’d never last together. Why she’d leave at the first chance she got.

Tessa unlocks her door and enters her apartment, while I hover on the doorstep, my jaw hanging slack. Again.

Huge windows show twinkling lights down below and the big full moon in the night sky. Its pale glow faintly illuminates posters hanging on the walls, images of figurines and statues and pottery. More figurines line a set of bookshelves, along with reed weaves and masks and all sorts of exotic stuff.

As she limps over to a leather couch, the lights switch on, triggered by some hidden sensor. Once there, she sinks down, putting her face in her hands.

That snaps me out of my wonder, and I do step in, even uninvited. I shut the door behind me and stride into her living room, rounding the sofa and kneeling in front of her.

“Tess…” I wait for a response that doesn’t come. “I’m just gonna check your feet, okay?”

She makes a muffled sound behind her hands, and my chest tightens. I lift one small, pretty foot, mesmerized by its perfect shape, the high arch, the dainty toes. Okay, what the hell—I didn’t know I had a foot fetish.