Falling for Dante Page 19

The adrenaline high I used to get before a game that helped me dominate on the football field had kept me from sleeping for weeks. I was a fucking mess.

  "Hey, it's going to be okay," she said, sinking down beside me.

  I gave her a withering sidelong glance. "No, it's not. I fucked up."

  "Yeah, you did, but that doesn't mean you can't fix it."

  "I've been trying, but Erica won't even talk to me."

  "Then try harder."

  "It's not that simple. She told me there's no coming back from this."

  "I know it seems that way right now, but she loves you. She'll come around. She's just embarrassed. And even though she has no reason for it, she's ashamed. It's normal, in these sorts of situations," she said, her voice cracking.

  I glanced her direction. The empathy softening her eyes, made my stomach turn. "Are you saying what I think you're saying?"

  She glanced down at her lap before answering. "Is it so hard to believe?"

  I sunk my head into my hands, unsure I could take any more dark revelations. "Jesus Christ, Ma. When?"

  "It was a long time ago when you were just a baby. But it's colored my entire life. So, I know what she's going through."

  Before I could over-think it, I reached out and squeezed her hand which fidgeted in her lap. "I'm so sorry."

  She looked surprised by my offering but squeezed back. "No, Dante. I'm sorry. For everything. It don't matter what happened in my past, it doesn't excuse what I did to you and your brothers when you were growing up. And it is high time I do something about it."

  "What are you talking about?"

  "I'm gonna do something about my drinking."

  "Excuse me if I don't believe you. You've said that more times than I can count." My cynicism stole the half-smile from her face, which only made me feel worse.

  "You're right. I have. And there ain't nothing I can do, but try again. I'm not expecting you to believe me. I'll just have to show you. I'm going into a thirty-day treatment program. After that, I plan to move into a sober living facility, until I'm ready to live in the real world again."

  I wanted to believe her because I would always be that little boy who wanted a mom that was normal. A mom that didn't leave her kids to fend for themselves while she drank herself into oblivion.

  "That's great, Ma. I wish you luck."

  "I'm going to need more than luck. I hope that you and your brothers can forgive me someday."

  "I hope so, too."

  She seemed happy to accept my meager offering and stood up. "Let me help you clean up and then I'll make us some dinner," she said.

  "You don't have to do that," I called over my shoulder when she marched to the kitchen. Ignoring me completely, she went to work scrubbing dirty dishes while I tossed out all the garbage I'd allowed to accumulate. Coupled with the scent of her lilac perfume, the Bible hymn she hummed transported me back to the early days of my childhood when she had been sober. When she used to make dinner and read me books before tucking me into bed.

  After returning my kitchen to some semblance of normality, she started digging around in my refrigerator. It was clear from her soft clucks that my fridge did not meet her approval. "You don't got nothing I can work with," she said placing one hand on her hip. "Why don't we go out? My treat."

  I almost laughed, but she looked so earnest that I couldn't bear to hurt her feelings. "Um, okay. I'll go shower and change."

  "Great." When I was about to turn the corner to my bedroom, she called out to me. "Hey, Dante... I know I wasn't there for you when you needed me the most. And I'm not talking about when you were a kid. After you got hurt. That wasn't right what I did, leaving you to fend for yourself."

  Her apology took me by surprise, and I stood there staring at her like an idiot. After a simple nod, I continued to my bedroom, doing my best to force the lump down my throat that threatened to strangle me.

  "And this is my kitchen," I said, pointing my phone toward the small, galley kitchen. Jake oohed over-enthusiastically, which made me giggle. FaceTime was a wonderful thing when your best friend lived across the country.

  "I like it," he said.

  "This is one of my favorite rooms," I continued, waving my phone in front of the sun room. My favorite spot was the small courtyard off the master bedroom where I spent most of my mornings drinking coffee. Watching the sun rise and inhaling the budding scents of life carried on spring breezes distracted me from how dead I felt inside.

  Although on the small side, the apartment was exactly what I needed. I loved my brother and Janice, but they needed their privacy as much as I needed my own. And even though Dante and I had toured the apartment together, it didn't hold memories the spare bedroom at my brother's did.

  "I can see you sitting there reading a book on a rainy day, which is like every day in Seattle, right?"

  I laughed. "It's not quite that bad. But yeah, I spend a lot of time here, reading."

  I'd enrolled in several classes at the community college to get my feet wet again. I loved being on campus, socializing with people my age, and learning new things. While I loved all of my classes, my upper-level social work classes were my favorite. I wanted to help women overcome the horrors of their past, even if I couldn't find the strength to do the same.

  The women's mission had become like a second home. Helen had offered me a part-time paid position and worked around my school schedule. For the first time in forever, I felt like my life had a purpose. I was needed. While most girls my age were climbing the corporate ladder, and clubbing on the weekends, I spent my days working alongside Helen, who had become a confidante.

  "Any more news on that asshole and his cronies?" Jake asked.

  "They're still awaiting trial. There's a good chance I'm going to have to testify."

  Brent, the CEO of Hot Shot, and my agent had all been arrested. Apparently, Brent hadn't been the mastermind behind the whole sick thing. He'd just been the bait. The Tribune had blown the whole story wide open, thanks to Allie's untiring devotion to bringing the truth to light.

  There were twenty-four of us in all, the attacks spanning more than five years. I'd reached out to a few and our experiences had been similar. None of us had any knowledge or memory of what had transpired.

  Those requesting anonymity, like myself, were respected by the press. Several had done interviews with national news stations and talk shows when the story first broke. One was even writing a book about her life as a model. I had no desire to be in the limelight. Just like I had no desire to see the full extent of what had happened to me.

  I didn't know which was worse, not knowing or knowing. But I saw what knowing had done to Dante. In spite of all of his promises, I knew that he would never be able to look at me the same.

  Not that we had seen each other much over the last month. After his initial onslaught of texts, voicemails and unannounced drop-ins, Dante had respected my wishes and stayed away. Every text and voicemail he'd left, I'd deleted.

  I was being unreasonable. But I didn't care. He had betrayed my trust. Stomped on my wishes to satisfy his own curiosity.

  The harsh words I'd uttered in the bathroom still haunted me. They had been utter bullshit. I did believe in love and I wanted the fairytale. With Dante. It had taken every ounce of my restraint not to turn around and fling myself into his arms.

  "Hey, you still there?" Jake asked.

  I turned the phone around and gave Jake an apologetic grin. "Sorry, I got a little lost in my own thoughts."

  "Let me guess, the D-bag?"

  "Yeah, the D-bag."

  "Have you seen him again?"

  "No, I think he's avoiding me like the plague. Which is probably good, because the last time I saw him, I added five pounds to my waistline."

  "That's normal. Everyone puts on weight after a breakup. You look fabulous."

  "Thanks. You're not looking too bad yourself. I really like the new haircut," I said.

  Jake patted his spiky, bleached hair. "Thanks. So, whe
n will you know if you have to testify?"

  "Soon."

  "Do you want me at the trial for moral support?"

  "I appreciate the offer, but I'll be fine."

  "What about your mom? Isn't she going to come?"

  "I haven't asked." My mom and I had started to talk. To really talk. It had broken her heart I hadn't felt comfortable enough to go to her when my life was falling apart. She was determined to mend our relationship, in the domineering and sweetly tenacious way she approached everything. "But maybe I will."

  "You should. I'm sure she'd love to be there for you."

  "Yeah, you're probably right."

  After hanging up, I went outside with my laptop and started doing research for my psych paper. The cheerful chirping of birds in the trees accompanied my keystrokes as I launched into school mode. A half hour later, a push notification from the Tribune sounded on my laptop. When the box popped up and Dante's name appeared, my heart did a little jig in my chest.

  My ritual was more than pathetic, but for some reason I couldn't give it up. Every time I'd considered unsubscribing to Dante's column, something had stopped me. It was my last link to the man I still loved. Dante hadn't produced a new article in over a month, which had been disappointing.

  Before I could stop myself, I clicked on the pop-up box and went directly to Dante's column. I almost fell out of my chair when I saw the headline at the top.

  Why I'm an Idiot - Confessions of a Former Football Player. By Dante Williams

  I had a woman who loved me. So much so that she was willing to forgive the fact that I am an idiot. A woman so amazing that she gave me chance after chance to see what was right in front of me.

  A woman as beautiful on the inside as she is on the outside. A woman who was able to see beyond the cocky athlete to the damaged boy underneath and accepted me in spite of that.

  With one broken promise, I ruined it all.

  She fell for me when she was just fourteen. It took me a little longer to realize I had fallen, but now I am flat on my face. I know there are no words, no matter how eloquent or well-edited, that can change the mistakes I have made, but if you're reading this, know that I love you.

  There is no excuse for what I did. There is nothing I can say that will make the betrayal sting any less. I was so angry with myself because I sent you off to slaughter all those years ago. I didn't protect you from those monsters. I couldn't protect you from my own mother. And I didn't protect you from myself.

  I have come to realize that you didn't need my protection. You needed my love. My compassion and steadfastness. And I failed you.

  You told me that love was all about forgiveness. I disappointed you and while I promise it was unintentional, it will probably happen again. All I can do is ask for your forgiveness and promise to be better.

  But please, do one thing for me, if not for yourself.

  Extend forgiveness to the one who needs it most.

  After reading through the article two more times, hands shaking as I scrolled, I shut my laptop, laid my head down and cried.

  "Wow, you look like shit," Allie said as she walked into my office. She slumped into one of the two chairs opposite my desk, piercing me with her brown eyes.

  I slammed my laptop shut before Allie could see that I'd been checking out Erica's Facebook page. Social media was the only consistent form of contact I had with Erica now. From my Internet stalking, I knew that Erica had been devoting the majority of her free time to the mission. She never posted photos of herself out at clubs. Or with guys. That was the only thing keeping my hope alive. But it was only a matter of time before someone noticed what I'd been too dimwitted to see.

  "I'm all for wallowing, don't get me wrong. I didn't get out of bed for months after Greg died," Allie said. "And even then, I barely took care of myself, but this whole scruffy look you got going on is not good for business."

  "Good thing I'm in charge of online content. I don't have to worry about the way I look," I replied.

  "I take it she hasn't called?"

  "Nope." I twirled a pen in my hand, feigning indifference, even though I was dying inside. The article I had written had prompted no response from Erica.

  "Maybe it's time to get back into the swing of things," Allie said with a tentative smile. "Pick up a lady friend, or whatever you call hookups, nowadays. It can't be good for someone like you to not have sex."

  "Someone like me? How long has it been since you got laid?" I threw back.

  She waved her hand dismissively. "I'm not the norm. You're a young, virile man."

  "I'm not sure I remember how to pick up a lady friend," I said.

  "It's like riding a bicycle, you never forget how."

  Images of riding bikes with Erica at Lake Champlain came rushing back and I held back a frustrated groan. Why did everything have to remind me of her?

  "Nah, I'd rather stay in and read."

  "Are you fucking kidding me right now? Where is the Dante I know and love to judge? I know you miss her, but how long are you going to wait for her to come to her senses?"

  "As long as it takes." The words popped out with more conviction than I felt.

  "What if she never does?" Allie asked, softly.

  I couldn't entertain that thought, even though late at night, when I was at my most pessimistic, it had been slipping through uninvited. When I was playing football, if I needed to improve, I could train harder, learn new skills, or pay for a private coach. But this thing with Erica couldn't be compelled by sheer force of will, alone.

  It was the most frustrating experience of my entire life, and I had nobody to blame but myself.

  "She will," I said, the tremor in my voice belying my confidence.

  "I hope for my sake she does, because you've been one surly asshole," Allie said with a teasing smile. Surly didn't even begin to cover my foul mood. "Not to change the subject, but I think I might have been wrong about Logan Carlisle. He might have been drugged by those two Russian whores. Like he claimed."

  "Why the change of heart?"

  "I did a bit more digging," she said, playing with the papers in her lap. "And he was pretty convincing the night of the awards ceremony."

  "He was, or his lips were?" I asked with a chuckle. Something happened between Allie and Logan while my mom and I were fighting in the hallway. I was sure of it.

  "Very funny," she said with an eye roll to downplay the blush creeping up her neck. "I might have misjudged him."

  "I'm proud of you. I know how difficult that is for you to admit."

  "Ah, geez, thanks, Dad," she said sarcastically.

  "So, when are you seeing him again?"

  "What? Why would I be seeing him again?"

  "Don't front with me, boss. I saw your calendar when I was dropping off some paperwork," I said with a smug grin. Her face paled, and she shook her finger at me.

  "You fucking snoop. Haven't you learned your lesson?"

  "It was right there, in all caps," I said, ignoring her dig. "'DATE WITH LOGAN'"

  "Well, it's not like anything is going to come of it. I'm ancient compared to Logan," Allie said, flinging her hair out of her eyes. "I'm almost eight years older."

  "No, not eight whole years," I said, throwing a hand over my heart for effect.

  "Shut up. You don't understand. Dating younger is normal for a man. But for a woman, dating younger is like winning the lottery and being terrified you're going to blow through all the money in a few years."

  "I don't want to think about you blowing through anything or anyone."

  A guffaw escaped her mouth, and she shook her head at me. "You're terrible."

  "Listen, he would be one lucky guy to get a chance with you. You're a total MILF. If you weren't my boss and I wasn't in love with my best friend's little sister, I would totally fuck you."

  "Really?" Allie said with eyes wide. And were those tears? "You just made my day. No, my week. I'm going to do this," she said, hopping up. "It's like riding a bike, right?"


  "Sure," I replied, because I didn't want to dull her enthusiasm. With a little hop in her step she walked out of my office, leaving me to finish up for the night.

  An hour later, I jumped into my car and made my way through a soggy downtown. The rain had battered the city all day, and the roads glistened black. I considered stopping outside the mission. Every night I had to stop myself from waiting by Erica's car and begging her to take me back. Those were the pathetic thoughts that entered my mind every time I purposely passed by Bell Street on the way to my house.

  My very empty and lonely house.

  I'd considered selling my place since every part of it reminded me of Erica. I didn't think a person could imprint themselves on a place in such a short amount of time, but she had. Everywhere I turned, memories we shared popped up uninvited.

  The breakfast nook in my kitchen had never been so underutilized. Every morning, Erica and I had sat side by side, sipping coffee and reading the newspaper like an old couple. Now I couldn't even look at the space without wanting to take a bat to the custom built-ins.

  I hadn't opened the door to my office in months. There were too many mementos lurking on my desk. Pieces of coral Erica had collected when we went deep sea fishing off the San Juan Islands. Photos of us at the tourist spots around Seattle and in Maui. My favorite was the selfie she'd taken of us on the beach at Pa'iloa Bay.

  The car phone rang, and I smiled when I saw Damian's name on the screen. Reminiscing about Erica was dangerous, especially right before the weekend, when solitude was my only company.

  "Hey man," I said.

  "Any chance you want to go to the Seahawks preseason opener with me tonight? Janice is not feeling up to it."

  "I wouldn't imagine she is," I replied. Janice was practically bursting at the seams, due to have their little rug-rat any day. Watching the Seahawks play from Damian's private suite didn't sound half bad. It would be difficult to wallow in misery surrounded by thousands of screaming fans, with my friend and beers on hand.

  "I was thinking about staying in." I sounded like a loser, but why pretend with one of the only people who understood?