"I don't want a repeat of last night. I've got enough bad luck as it is, and I don't need to make that situation worse," I sigh, drinking some more hot chocolate.
"You need to explain this bad luck thing to me."
I look nervously away from him, anywhere but at his face, but the pull of his eyes are magnetic, pulling me back.
"You mumbled something when you were drunk, kept me up all night. And again, just now."
"I'm sorry about that. Didn't mean to keep you awake."
"Kitten, why aren't you looking at me?"
I will myself to keep calm. Being a bitch never did anything good for me.
"It's a curse that's been put on my family by my nona. She got pissed that I wasn't named after her and she always hated my dad so she cursed the DiNovro name. Stupid old-school-paysan shit, you know, village idiot type stuff. So I have a lot of bad luck, I ruin a lot of things for a lot of people, and maybe it's better that Sera and I stop being friends. I've always pushed her to get someone better, hell, even suggesting one of my boys would be a more suitable replacement. I was really wrong Dean, incredibly wrong."
"We all make mistakes."
"Yeah, but my mistakes take on epic proportions. And you're one of them."
Chapter 21
"I had you completely erased from my memory, you know? I tried really, really hard to forget you, and all that stupid shit I did when I was sixteen." I'm going to start crying again, it's just a matter of time.
"Dean, I don't want to hurt you again, I don't want to hurt you. Thank you for being so nice to me, and treating me with respect. For letting me meet your dogs, and for always feeding me delicious food when you could have just left me to starve. I'm sorry for hitting you with my car. Dean, I'm just on a downward spiral and I'm going to drag you down with me, and I can't bear to do that to you.
"Find that girl of your dreams, alright? Be happy, for me." I'm full-on crying now, and my hot chocolate is all blurry in front of me, so I whirl around and try to find my way out of here. I trip over Potter but don't turn around to see if he's okay.
All the tears, all the frustration I've forced down since my parents' divorce strangles me, expands all my rage and has me sobbing, sobbing so very hard that I feel my ribs crack and I can't get a good breath. The whole world is a watery blur, and straight-edged lines become distorted, until I practically nose-dive into the door just in time for Dean to take a handful of my shirt at the small of my back and haul me upright.
His thick arms cord themselves around my ribcage, my breasts pillowed against his forearms. He's locked them around me, cutting off some of my air, but I don't care about that. I want him to hold me tight and never let me go, I want him to want me, ruined as I am, fucked up as I am because I can make him happy, because he's my Hunter and I'm his Sera if I try really, really hard.
I'm pressed tight against his chest, and his face goes into the skin where my throat meets my shoulder and he's shaking – why is he shaking?
"Jesus Christ on the crucifix, kitten, don't you see? I never gave up on you, even after all this time. Please stop crying, I hate it when you cry."
"I can't … can't stop. I've ruined everything, I ruin everything. I'm the reason my parents split up, I'm the reason my mom decided to leave and chose some other asshole to fuck around with. I wasn't good enough for her to stay behind.
"I was about to ruin my best friend's relationship because I was jealous and I thought he was going to break her heart. And they're getting married, Dean! They're engaged, and even after all those awful, awful things I said to her, she's making me her maid of honour! I don't understand how she can just forgive me like that, I truly don't understand," I hiccup and dig my nails into Dean's strong forearms. I may have broken skin but he doesn't say anything.
"Please, kitten, please stop crying. You're just going to make everything worse," Dean moans, rocking me to the left and right, a little teeter-totter with a six-foot-four giant. "Come I'll make you something substantial to eat, and I'll put on a funny movie."
"Fucking shit, Dean! You can't just solve the world's problems with funny movies and food! It doesn't work that way."
"Of course it works that way," he whispers against my ear. I dig my nails deeper into his arms, and shudder against him. "And if you're lucky enough to find that person who you can share your grief with, well, that's something close to heaven. Please, kitten, let me take care of you, just for tonight. Just … stop crying, please." Dean turns me slowly towards him, and I must be a sight.
But he's looking at me like I'm a treasure chest, and I'm going to make him rich beyond measure.
"I wish you'd let me kiss you, kitten. No strings attached, I promise. Just to make you feel better. But I don't think that's going to be a good idea. You're terrified out of your mind right now, and you're feeling too much. I've been where you are, there's no need to make yourself feel even worse for shit that's already happened, alright? C'mon, what's your favourite thing to eat? I'll make it right now."
I sniffle and swipe my eyes with my arm. I then dive in for a hug while nearly clipping Dean's chin and squeeze him as hard as my arms will allow.
"You're an incredibly good person, you know that, Dean? And you're going to make some girl incredibly lucky one day. If she mistreats you, gimme a call, and I'll arrange a beat-down given by yours truly." I mumble into his chest, hearing the steady beat of his heart. He keeps holding me, and I have a feeling that he won't let me go until I ask him to.
"Do you even lift, bro?"
And that's it. He's got me laughing and crying all at the same time and I don't know how I got here, in his arms, feeling as much as I do.
"Feeling better?" he asks, rubbing circles on my back. My dad used to rub my back too, when I was sick, just until I fell asleep. Dean's doing a better job.
"Yeah."
"So what's your favourite food? I'll laugh if it's got anything to do with fish."
I shake my head against his chest. "No. I can only eat salmon if there's ketchup on it. I hate the stuff."
"Ketchup, on salmon!? Sacrilege! I'm going to have to make you try my poached salmon on one of my off-nights. You in or are you in?"
I grin, and nod. "Yeah, I'm in. But my favourite thing to eat are amaretti cookies. And my nona Catarina makes them the best so you've got your work cut out for you."
"I've got it. Go sit on the couch, get some love from the boys. I promise you'll feel better soon. Go on, the master chef's got work to do. Let me work my magic," Deans says, winking. He places a kiss on my forehead and nudges me towards the couch.
After a minute, he comes out of his bedroom and wraps me up with a huge Canadiens' fleece blanket. Potter needs help getting on the couch, but Pongo and Kal do just fine, flanking either side of me so I'm playing monkey-in-the-middle, the canine edition. They are all so warm and snuggly that I nearly miss the Xbox controller Dean throws at me for Netflix.
"Pick anything you want. I can catch glimpses of it from the kitchen, so pas de probleme on that front. Fire it up, and give me your best comedy. Whoever loses doesn't get a taste of the cookie dough!"
The thing I love and hate about Netflix is that there's too much selection. I could spend an hour and a half narrowing it down to ten movies that I want to watch and still not have a ready decision for the night. But I do my best.
I've been angling on watching a classic that Sera had introduced me to while we were in high school. It features the comedic greats that are Gene Wilder and Richard Pryor. One's deaf and the other's blind and they somehow get framed for a murder and have to find the real killers while saving their necks. It's pretty hilarious and hilarious is what I need right now.
I put it on and start dozing off almost immediately. It's the smell that keeps me awake knowing I'm going to get some amazing amaretti cookies real soon.
Dean comes to the couch, lifts up Kal like he's nothing but a puppy and plops himself down next to me, settling Kal on his lap. The German Shepherd doesn't do anything, so I think it's a regular occurrence.
Dean nearly whacks me in the head when he tried to put an arm on the back of the couch and tosses me an apologetic grin. The kind of grin a little boy might give you if you found him with his hand in the cookie jar. I grin back and turn back towards the movie.
Dean's laugh changes depending on what's happened. He has a belly laugh when it's slapstick humour, but when it's witty or a turn of phrase kind of humour, he laughs with a certain kind of wheeze. Then when it's a combination of the two he legit starts howling and has to wipe tears from his eyes. I don't think I've ever had such a good time watching someone watch a movie.
"You have a really great laugh, Dean."
You have a really great laugh, Dean. Could I sound more stupid? Damn it.
"Why, thank you. I was born with it."
I snicker, then force my hands to stay in my lap when my laugh gets out of control. Dean's eyebrows pop high on his forehead and he smiles, all teeth, and extra enthusiasm.
"I don't remember you being this funny."
"Yeah, I started working out my humour muscles after the whole high school shit went down. Now, it's all good, and I'm pretty hilarious."
I chew my lip. "I'm really sorry about that. I don't think I can say it enough."