Dylan’s Redemption(12)

He hoped looking at that dress brought her happy memories of their night together. Standing there now, looking at the gown and imagining her wearing it, a multitude of emotions washed through him. Mostly anger because she wasn’t here. He gripped the dress and buried his face in the material, inhaling deeply, hoping for even a hint of her scent. After all this time, even that was gone. He smoothed his hand over the material, adjusting it just so, his stomach in a knot, his heart heavy in his chest.

He’d always wanted a chance to make things right. He’d thought a thousand times what he’d say.

Ah, Jess. I was so damn young and stupid.

I wanted you to no end.

Why’d I have to fall in love with you right when I was leaving?

I’m so sorry, honey. I wish I’d been here for you. I wish I’d realized Buddy was hurting you. I wish a lot of things. I wish you were here.

I miss my best friend.

Dylan ran his hand over the dress. He remembered how he’d slid the zipper down her back, her soft skin at his fingertips. She felt so good in his arms. She’d given herself completely, trusted him completely.

The dress went out of focus, along with his memories. His eyes burned and his throat constricted painfully.

He missed her more each day.

He owed her for so much. The years of friendship they’d shared. The career he’d chosen. Most of all, he owed her for showing him just how much a person could be loved. He had no doubt she’d loved him with her whole heart.

Unable to look at the dress any longer, he opened the closet door, peering inside. Just like her room, nothing appeared out of place. What little clothes she owned were neatly stacked or hanging. Her work boots were gone. She’d probably been wearing them the night Buddy killed her. As far as he could tell, everything stood as if she’d just left.

For all intents and purposes, it appeared Buddy and Jessie argued and Buddy killed her, then hid her body. But where? Now, he’d never know. That thought disturbed him more than anything.

Dylan closed the door to her room and walked out of the house without a backward glance. Jessie wasn’t there. He’d lost her. He couldn’t feel her presence in that house, or in her room. The pressure in his chest grew so great, he collapsed into his truck seat. He sat and stared at the stars for a good long while before he could breathe enough to drive himself home.





Chapter Four



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JESSIE SPENT THE evening making calls and settling her father’s affairs. Brian hadn’t done a single thing to set up a cremation or funeral for their father. No surprise there. She’d made all the necessary phone calls and doled out her credit card number. She spent the rest of the evening carving a chunk of wood into a horse, alternating between denying the fact she had to go back to Fallbrook and resigning herself to the fact she didn’t have a choice.

After several phone calls to local lawyers, luckily avoiding having to call Dylan’s cousin Owen McBride, she discovered her father actually had a will. Everything went to Brian. The house had a small mortgage, but nothing Brian couldn’t afford if he worked steadily. She could spare a few workers from the housing development outside of town for a few days to put the house to rights and make it perfect for Brian, his wife, and their new baby.

Morning bloomed bright and cheerful, irritating her already crappy mood. She pulled up in front of Brian’s rented house. Brian hadn’t done anything to take care of it. An old dusty truck sat out front. She wondered if it ran well, or if he’d neglected it like everything else in his life. The little compact car probably belonged to his wife, Marilee. A nice girl, Jessie remembered her from high school. A good choice for Brian. Sweet and kind. A cheerleader. Jessie remembered her being tossed in the air, her golden curls flying while her petite, strong body struck a pose. If memory served, she’d had a crush on Brian since their freshman year.

“It’s now or never, J.T. Get your ass out of the car and go talk to Brian.”

Great, she’d resorted to talking to herself. She headed for the front door, knocked, and waited for whatever came next.

Marilee answered the door, swinging it wide. Her polite smile died and her blue widened with shock. She gasped. “You’re alive.” She held a dishtowel to her breast. “Oh my goodness. It can’t be. We thought you were dead.”

“Not so much. Alive and well. I hear the old man isn’t though.”

“How? Why? Oh my God. I can’t believe you’re here.”

“May I come in?”

Marilee regained her composure and stepped back. Jessie entered and found Brian lying passed out on the couch in the family room, four beer bottles clustered on the coffee table. Completely dressed, including his work boots, he snored so loudly she didn’t even worry about lowering her voice as she followed Marilee through the room into the kitchen.