Holiday Wedding (Holiday Romance-Spicy Version #2)

36

Tuesday, December 24

Wedding Day

Jenny

The police have taken Justin away. They’re still searching for Lola, but they worry that she’s found a flight out of the country. Gwen’s off getting a quick medical check-up, with Pip in her arms. That little dog has growled and bared her teeth whenever we’ve tried to separate her from Gwen. Finally, we gave up. I’m talking to Gwen’s and Caleb’s families, going over everything that happened for the third time. When the shooting started, they had wisely grabbed the twins and fled the room.

Out of the corner of my eye, I see a muscular brown-haired man stride past without a glance my way. He heads for the elevators that lead to the buses and taxi stand.

Dean.

Caleb comes over with a stormy expression. His glare shoots daggers at Dean, who’s entered the elevator.

“What’s going on?” I ask Caleb.

“Dean just quit. Said he’d turn in the formal resignation letter later today.” Caleb directs his furious gaze at me. “I can’t deal with this right now. I need to make sure Gwen’s okay.”

The elevator doors begin to close. I get a glimpse of Dean facing forward, his face smooth, expressionless. Mr. Roboto is back.

“I’ll handle Dean,” I tell Caleb. “You go take care of Gwen.” Without waiting for Caleb to respond, I run to the elevator. I stick my foot between its closing double doors. They hit the edge of my sneaker and spring open.

Dean doesn’t say a word when I step inside. He doesn’t look at me or acknowledge my presence.

I wait for the door to close before I turn to him. The elevator shudders and begins its descent.

“What was that?” I demand, my lips pressed tight.

Nothing. No response. It’s like I’m not even there.

My brothers had this game they would play when I was a kid. They would ignore me and pretend I didn’t exist. I would shout in their faces, pinch their arms, and they wouldn’t flinch. They were so good at it that sometimes I almost believed them. I wondered if I was real or maybe I was a ghost? The leftover memory of someone who used to be alive. My brothers would continue that game for days, always when my parents weren’t looking. Eventually, when their silence got to be too much, I’d go to my room and, all alone, cry myself to sleep.

This, how Dean won’t respond to me, feels like that. Tears gather in the corners of my eyes. That old sadness, the feeling of worthlessness, rises so big it overwhelms me.

Forget this.

I reach for the elevator button, ready to give up on him. My plan is to stop and get out as soon as I can. The cool metal grazes my fingertips, when I notice Dean’s hands. They clench and unclench by his sides, full of restless energy. The rest of him is still, unmoving.

I pause, uncertain what my next move should be. Get off the elevator or stay on. Risk another failure or walk away. All my life, I’ve waited for someone to choose me. To pick me out from the crowd and give me their love. In that moment, I realize I’ve got it backward. I can’t control who decides to love me, but I can control who I love. I choose who to be with, who I let into my life. I take a deep breath, and…

I choose him.

A step closer and I slide my hand into his. Dean stiffens but doesn’t pull away. It’s a little thing, him standing there with his warm palm in mine, but it feels big.

Like maybe we have a chance.

“What are you doing?” I ask quietly. I stare straight ahead, not looking at him.

“Quitting.” His voice is rough, sandpaper scraping against my soul.

I squeeze his fingers, the gentlest of pressure. “Why?”

He turns to me, and the despair I see in him rips a hole in my heart. So much pain in his troubled gaze.

“What kind of bodyguard am I, what kind of man, if I can’t protect the people I care about?”

“You’re human. That’s the kind of man you are. Not perfect, just like the rest of us. We’re all made up of strengths and weaknesses. I fidget and am insecure about my body. You get scared by loud noises. Those are our flaws. That doesn’t mean we don’t have strengths, too. I’m loyal, if given the chance. You’re caring, always looking out for others before yourself.”

“It’s not the same,” he says, morose. “I’m a failure. I didn’t avoid that IED. I didn’t figure out the stalker in time.”

“You’re the one who saved Gwen. You got her out of that cage,” I say, insistently.

“It’s not just what happened today. It’s every day of my life.” He watches me, solemn. “I told you before. I’m not good enough.” He drags in a breath, then warns, “I’m worthless.”

“I can tell you a bunch of things I’m bad at, things I can’t do, but would you call me worthless?”

His thumb strokes over the inside of my wrist, running over the spot where my pulse pounds for him. “I’d never say that about you.”

“Give yourself that same grace.” I sigh, wondering why we’re always harsher with ourselves than we are with others. Dean would forgive weakness in me, but not in himself.

He wavers, and hope lights up in me, but it goes dark when he pulls his hand from mine. “You should leave me alone.” He stares blankly before him.

“No,” I say firmly, committed to pulling him out of the pit he’s crawled into.

After the craziness of today, I’m a mess of emotions—sorrow, despair, anger. I decide to focus on anger. I can already tell where he’s going with this. The “it’s not you, it’s me” speech. I just got that from Eddie. I’m not taking it from Dean.

Moving in front of him, I point a finger in his face, which makes him blink in surprise. I lean forward into his space and hiss, “Listen, buddy, if you think you’re shaking me off with your issues, you have another thing coming. I’m not going anywhere. You can stay as messed up as you want for as long as you want. I’ll handle it. I’ve got my problems, too. You’ll have to deal with that.” I pause, thinking over the hours I spent snowbound with Dean. “What happened between us in my hotel room is not over.”

His ears go pink, and I know he was heading that direction. That was going to be his next suggestion, not because he’s not into me—you don’t stare at someone sleeping if it’s a casual relationship—but because he’s revealed all his weaknesses and now he wants to run, to avoid. If he doesn’t get close to me, he can pretend we never had this connection. It’s a scary thing, to bare your soul to someone else, and this man before me…he’s terrified.

I can relate. This morning, when I rejected him, I was frightened too. But seeing Dean on the ground while Justin waved his gun was the worst moment of my life. That was when I understood how, in a short amount of time, he has become important to me.

“This is a thing, a real thing, between you and me. I have no idea where it’s going. Could be a train to Disasterville, but we’re on it.” I jab him in the chest, once, for good measure. “So choo-choo. Climb aboard Dean, because we’re riding it until the end of the line.” Glaring up at him, I cross my arms and impatiently tap my foot.

I expect him to argue, the stubborn fool, but he doesn’t. Instead, his mouth twitches. “Disasterville?”

I pull myself tall, nod once, and settle back down. More softly, I say, “I know we have things to figure out, with me being in L.A. and you in New York, but I’m willing to work on it.”

“Okay,” he says, surprising me. He smiles, a sad smile, but still, it’s something.

“Okay?” I echo, confused. I hadn’t dared to hope I could convince him.

“We’ll try it.” He softens. “I’m tired of finding excuses to stay away from you.”

I shyly shift closer, then let out a shriek when he drags me to him.

He crushes me to his chest. “What do you think about that?” he asks. Anxious brown eyes with hints of gold scan my face, looking for clues.

“I think…” I drag it out because I still like to make him squirm. He glares down at me, mock angry. “I think it sounds pretty decent, maybe better than decent.”

A flash of a smile, then his lips are on mine.