If You Need Me (The Toronto Terror #3)

Chapter 28

CHAPTER 28

HEMI

I stare at the dresses laid out on the bed. Dallas is in the shower. We both needed one after the freaking bake-off. It makes perfect sense that he and his mom are uber competitive when it comes to baking the best pie. He was all smiles and excitement when they won. And he forced me to be in the pictures for tomorrow’s paper. I was sweaty and disheveled and felt like I’d been more of a liability than an asset, but he insisted.

I should not have found pie making sexy, but now I can’t stop thinking about the way Dallas kneaded dough like an expert along with the other things he can do with those ridiculously talented hands. “Get your head out of the gutter, Hemi.” I roll my eyes to the ceiling. “Great, now I’m referring to myself in the third person.”

I shake my head and refocus on my dress options. Mine is pretty, but the one Dallas laid out on the bed for me before he disappeared into the bathroom is stunning.

I try them both on and send pictures to the girls—still wearing the one from Dallas—asking for their opinion.

Rix

The second one.

Hammer

I concur. Your curves are banging.

Rix

Option two is the winner.

Tally

You look great in both, but the second one makes you look like royalty. QUEEN HEMI.

Shilps

^^^Agreed.

A message in my private chat with Shilpa follows.

Shilps

Dallas bought the royal blue dress, didn’t he?

Hemi

Yes.

Shilps

It’s gorgeous. He has great taste for someone who wears so much plaid.

Hemi

He does.

Shilps

How are you feeling about tonight?

Hemi

Do you have time for a quick call?

Shilps

Of course.

I hit video call, and her beautiful, comforting face appears a few seconds later.

“You freaking out?” she asks.

“I’m so nervous, Shilps. So, so nervous. All these people…it’s hard. And Dallas—we are sleeping in the tiniest be d, and we made pie today, and it should not have been sexy, but it was, and I’m so conflicted.”

“Oh, my badass best babe, I’m sorry I’m not there to hug you right now.”

“I’d probably get emotional, so it’s better this way.” I’m usually so good at staying in control of my emotions. But not today.

“What are you conflicted about?” she asks.

“I should hate Dallas forever—but he’s making it hard not to like him now,” I whisper.

“Will you tell me what exactly he did?” Shilpa asks.

“When I get home, I promise. I can’t talk about it right now. I feel so raw, like it’s a fresh wound all over again.”

Her smile is soft with understanding. “Our hurts frame how we perceive past events, and you have a lot of feelings about the people you’re seeing tonight.”

“I didn’t realize how hard it would be to deal with Brooklyn again. Like, I knew, but I didn’t know ,” I admit.

“She was supposed to be your friend, and she hurt you. If you don’t want to go, you don’t have to. You don’t owe anyone—not Dallas, not any of those people you went to school with. You’ve put yourself through so much to prove you could be there this weekend, but it doesn’t matter. You matter.”

“If I back out, I admit defeat. They win by breaking me.”

“Can you be honest with Dallas and tell him why you’re scared?”

I look to the ceiling, overwhelmed by the emotion of it all. “It’s so hard to trust him because of the past, Shilps. And the way he looks at me when he lies about our relationship—I almost believe he’s sincere.”

Her expression grows sad. “Have you ever considered that’s because he is?”

I laugh, but she doesn’t laugh along with me.

“Why else would he be doing this, Hemi? I mean, really and truly think about it. You have the power to make his life a living hell if he fucks you over again. You literally could have let him be suspended or traded earlier this summer. He never says no to anything you throw at him. It can’t all be penance.”

“So you believe what? That he actually wants to be my boyfriend?” If that’s true, it changes everything. The story he told at the old folks’ home can’t have been real, right? My body is on board with that idea, but my head and my heart are dragging their feet like there’s a cliff ahead. The water stops running in the bathroom. “He’s out of the shower; I have to go.”

“Good luck tonight. You’ve got this. I love you.”

“I love you, too, Shilps.” I end the call and exhale a steady breath.

When the bathroom door opens Dallas steps into the room wearing a blue suit with plaid stripes. His tie, hanging loosely around his neck, is the same color as my dress. He looks stupidly delicious, and I’m so screwed. I have to spend the night with him at my side, touching me, being all affectionate and hot and sweet.

He did all of this to prove what? He allowed me to sign him up for endless torture at work and almost never balked—because…why?

I’m not ready for the answer to those questions. Not when my feelings are already on fire, and he looks this good.

“Good goddamn, Wills.” He shakes his head slowly. “That dress was made for you.” He glances at the one lying on the bed. “But you’d look just as good in the other dress, if you’re more comfortable in it.”

“Stop being so nice to me.” I don’t know how to handle his kindness. It makes me itchy.

Dallas frowns and moves into my personal space. His fingertips skim the length of my arms. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing.”

He frowns. “You’re lying.”

I evaluate his earnest expression and view him through Shilpa’s new lens. These two small words feel like the biggest risk to trust him with. “I’m nervous.”

He takes my hands in his. “I won’t leave your side, Wilhelmina. Not for a second. Not unless you want me to. I won’t let anyone fuck with you.”

“Do you really mean that?” My heart is in my throat.

His brow furrows. “Of course I mean it. I know it’s hard to have faith in me, but I’m trying my best to prove I’m not a stupid teenager anymore.”

I nod once, letting his words sink in. “Just let me touch up my makeup, and then I’m ready to go.” I need a minute to collect myself. I can’t break down now. I disappear into the bathroom and make a final pass with my mascara wand, reapply my gloss, take a few steadying breaths, and then return.

Dallas is standing in front of the mirror, expertly knotting his tie. I step in and brush his hands away, though it’s clear he can handle this task on his own. “I love the suit,” I say to his chin.

“I love you.” He fingers a lock of my hair. “—in this dress,” he tacks on. “Do you like it?”

“It’s perfect. Everything you’ve picked out for me is.” I finish the double Windsor knot with shaking hands.

“I got Shilpa’s approval.”

“But you picked it on your own.”

“Yeah.”

I smooth out his lapels and meet his gaze. “If I didn’t know better, I’d think you actually like me.”

His smile is soft and maybe a little sad as his fingers wrap around mine. “I wish I could go back in time, Wills. What happened senior year?—”

A knock on the door has his eyes sliding closed. “Dallas, sweetie, I have your corsage and boutonniere! I didn’t want you to forget them!” his mom calls.

“She’ll want to take pictures like a high school dance.” Dallas’s smile turns wry.

“That’s fair. I didn’t get prom pictures.” My eyes burn thinking about my eighteen-year-old self who longed for the Hollywood fantasy.

“You can come in, Mom!” he calls. “And me neither. I mean, I got pictures of myself, but I didn’t have a date.”

“Wanted to keep your options open?” I joke.

“Something like that.”

He seems as though he’s about to say something else when Diana opens the door. “Oh, now look at you two. Aren’t you just the most perfect couple?” She crosses the room and hands my corsage to Dallas and his boutonniere to me. “Can I take pictures of you putting them on each other?” She directs the question at me.

“Yeah, absolutely.”

“This night is a decade in the making,” Diana says.

“What do you mean?” I ask.

“She never got to take these kinds of pictures at actual prom,” Dallas explains as he opens the corsage box.

My heart stutters as Dallas carefully slides my corsage onto my wrist and kisses the back of my hand, his lips as soft as his smile. Awareness settles in the pit of my stomach. He’ll probably kiss me tonight, maybe on multiple occasions. My hands are unsteady as I pin his boutonniere to his lapel.

Once we’re ready, I slide my feet into the heels Dallas bought to go with the dress and grab the matching clutch. He holds out his hand, and I press mine into his palm, letting him guide me across the cabin and onto the front porch. We spend fifteen minutes posing all over the place, Dallas’s body pressed against mine, his hands skimming my curves as his mom commemorates this moment. I’m hyperaware of every gentle touch, of the feel of his lips on my bare shoulder, of the light in his eyes and the warmth of his smile as he dips me with the lake as our backdrop.

This is what it should have been like. And isn’t that the mindfuck of all mindfucks?

Photoshoot handled, Diana gives us a slightly teary hug and kiss, and Dallas leads me to the car. He holds the door open and helps me into the passenger seat. My palms dampen as he takes his place behind the wheel.

“How are you feeling?” he asks as he pulls out of the driveway and turns right down the first side street. The high school is only a two-minute drive, but it’s up two hills and I’m wearing heels, so driving is more practical.

“Cool as a cucumber.” I’m reeling. And more nervous than I’ve ever been.

“Are you just saying that so I stop asking questions?”

I shake my head but give him the truth. “Definitely.”

He pulls into the parking lot. Other than a new sign over the door, it looks exactly the same.

Dallas cuts the engine and reaches across the center console to squeeze my hand. “We’re in this together, okay? You ready?”

“As I’ll ever be.” I open the passenger side door.

He moves with purpose to my side as I ready myself to get out of the car. When he holds out his hand, I take it. I feel like a high school senior again. I’m still that girl who didn’t fit in—who knew what people said about her and struggled not to be too much for everyone. I was too direct, too intense, too passionate. I shake it off. I can do this. It’s a handful of hours. And then I never have to do it again.

Dallas laces our fingers, and we walk up the front steps. We’re greeted at the door by former staff. My political science teacher envelops me in a hug. The first fifteen minutes are a whirlwind of embraces and congratulations. Most of my teachers adored me. I was the girl who always volunteered to help, turned in my assignments early, participated in class discussions, and made the honor roll.

We have our photo taken under the balloon archway, and then we head down the hall toward the gymnasium. It’s been transformed into a throwback to prom. For almost everyone else, it’s a delightful trip down memory lane, but I’m seeing it all for the first time. The walls are lined with collages chronicling our time at Huntsville High.

“I was so short in grade nine,” Dallas comments as we stop at the picture of the school hockey team.

“By the time you hit grade eleven, you towered over everyone.” I tap the photo of the team two years later, where Dallas is a head taller than almost all the others. He’s present in so many of these photos. He was part of everything, always the center of attention. Always wanted. Always belonging.

“I was so awkward that year. All limbs and no freaking coordination,” he muses. “Should we go in? We can always make a run for it.” Dallas inclines his head to the gym doors, which are framed by another balloon arch in school colors and a banner that reads WELCOME, TIMBERWOLVES!

“Let’s do this.” I’m ready to conquer my past and then leave it where it belongs.

We’re spotted as soon as we cross the threshold. “Bright? Hey, my man! I was wondering when you’d get here!” A guy whose name I can’t remember, but whose face is vaguely familiar, approaches.

I stand back while they go in for back pats.

“Wilhelmina?” Gentle fingers touch my arm, and I turn toward the familiar voice.

“Dorie?”

“Hi! It’s been so long!” We throw our arms around each other. She’s a life preserver in rough waters.

Dorie and I were on student council together all through high school. Most of our friendship happened inside these walls, as she lived forty-five minutes away by bus, and she and Brooklyn didn’t get along.

She smiles at me with fondness as we part. “It’s so good to see you. Congratulations!” Her gaze cautiously darts to Dallas who is now surrounded by at least half a dozen people, all chatting and laughing. “I have to admit, I was a little surprised by this development. ”

“I think we all were,” I reply, forcing my smile to stay in place.

She’s one of the few people who knew about my massive, years-long crush on Sean and how hurt I’d been when Brooklyn went with him to prom. “But you’re happy with him?”

I nod, realizing it’s the truth. “Absolutely. How about you? What have you been up to? You’re a lawyer now, right?”

“That’s right. I moved out to Midland and set up a practice there.”

As we chat, more of my former classmates join the group. All the people I was on student council with come to say hi. I haven’t seen most of them since we graduated. When I left Huntsville, I traded small town living for the city and went to university in Toronto, and I’ve only ever been back to visit my moms.

As promised, the only time Dallas leaves my side is to get me a drink. I get sucked into a one-sided conversation with a former classmate about astrophysics, and Dallas saves me.

“So sorry to interrupt, but this is our song,” Dallas says with an apologetic smile. He holds out his hand, and I slip mine in his, excusing us.

He guides me to the dance floor, his lips at my ear. “Your eyes were glazing over.”

“I was trying to stay engaged, but in my head, I was making a grocery list.”

He keeps hold of one hand and the other settles on my waist.

“So this is our song, huh?”

“Be glad it isn’t ‘Stairway to Heaven,’ or you’d get to feel my hard-on for eight minutes instead of three.” His eyebrows wag.

I roll my eyes. “You do not have a hard-on.”

“You underestimate the power you have in this dress, honey.” He pulls me tight against him, and I feel the evidence of his arousal.

“How long have you been like this?”

“Since the moment I saw you in it. ”

“That was hours ago.”

“It ebbs and flows.”

“That’s a long time to be in such a heightened state.” And frankly, pretty damn flattering. “Isn’t that uncomfortable?”

Dallas shrugs. “It’s pretty much my constant state when I’m around you. It’s a small price to pay to have the pleasure of your company.” He turns his head, giving me his profile, and brings my hand to his lips.

If that weren’t true, why would he say it? What would he have to gain? I change the subject because it’s the safe thing to do. “It’s nice to see some of the people I hung out with in high school. Although my friend group was smaller than yours.”

“Eh, I had a lot of acquaintances and not a lot of close friends who mattered in the long run.” He sounds more resigned than I would have imagined.

“How do you feel about that? I thought you had all these close friendships. Best friends forever and all that.”

“What I thought was important when I was eighteen isn’t what’s important to me now.” His voice trails off as the song changes. “Have you seen our favorite couple tonight?”

I shake my head. “It’s only a matter of time, I’m sure.” We won’t get through the night without at least one unfortunate interaction. Part of me wants to get it over with. But the part who still feels like that betrayed, heartbroken girl, is afraid of how much any real conversation with Brooklyn will make me hurt all over again.

“You won’t have to deal with them on your own. I’ll be right beside you.” His expression is earnest.

“I believe you.” Or at least, I’m trying.

I get lost in my thoughts as we move around the dance floor. Once again, my conversation with Shilpa comes back, and I wonder just how clueless I’ve been—stuck with my perception framed in hurt.

But I still don’t understand. What was the purpose of hurting me like that? Tonight I’ll ask him, once and for all .

The song ends, and a fast-paced one replaces it, so I step back and sever our contact.

A couple of Dallas’s old hockey buddies call us over. I need a minute to collect myself, though. “I’ll be right back.”

“I’ll come with you,” Dallas offers.

“You can’t follow me into the women’s bathroom.”

“I’ll wait outside,” he suggests.

“It’s okay. I’ll be fine for a couple of minutes.” I pat him on the chest and press a kiss to the edge of his jaw. “Go talk to your hockey buddies. I’ll be right back.”

I make it to the bathroom without bumping into anyone unpleasant, but my luck runs out as I’m washing my hands.

“Wilhelmina! If I didn’t know better, I’d think you were avoiding me.” Brooklyn steps up beside me, her gaze trained on her clutch as she rummages around and retrieves her lipstick.

“Not avoiding you, Brooklyn.”

“Aren’t you, though? You didn’t really even talk to me at my engagement party. It’s like you’re not even happy for me. It was a decade ago. And obviously you’re over Sean. I mean, you scored yourself the hottest guy in our class, and he makes like millions a year. Sort of interesting that you two ended up engaged right after us though. Sean has always been proud to be with me, but Dallas only just confirmed your relationship.” Her smile is fake and syrupy.

I’m done playing nice. It doesn’t matter if it’s safer. “Are you seriously trying to make this into a competition over boys? High school is over, Brooklyn.”

She crosses her arms. “And yet you conveniently ended up with the most popular guy in our class who is seriously loaded now.”

Is that all Dallas was to people? The one who came out on top? I rub the space between my eyes, frustrated by the stupidity of all of this. Now, I just want answers to the questions that have felt like slivers under my skin. “Why did you even hang out with me? Was it so you could feel more important? Did you want to make yourself feel better about where you sat on the social ladder? You were supposed to be my best friend. You knew back then I’d liked Sean for a long time, but that didn’t matter to you. And I get that things happen, and obviously you and Sean belong together, but you should have told me you were going to prom with him instead of letting me find out through other people. That’s what hurt. It wasn’t a boy that was the issue between us. It was you.”

Lied to by omission is still lied to. I was devastated. I felt betrayed and so very cast aside. Disposable. My moms have done everything to make sure I feel loved, but a tiny part of my heart will always wonder why I was given up in the first place.

“What was I supposed to say? It’s not my fault he wanted to go with me more than he wanted to go with you,” Brooklyn says defensively.

“You’re right. I would never have stopped you from going with him. But you should have told me. All I wanted was for you to be happy, because that’s what friends want for each other.” How did she not see that? How did I not see that back then?

She clenches her fists and rolls her shoulders back. “Well, I guess I’m so?—”

I hold up a hand. “I don’t need your apology, Brooklyn, especially not when you don’t mean it. We were friends long enough for me to know when you’re lying. You were a shitty friend. You were cruel and mean. I don’t know why putting people down makes you feel good about yourself. Whatever the reason you chose to handle that situation the way you did, I deserved better.” Before she can speak, I continue, “Look, I’m sincerely glad you and Sean are happy. I truly want nothing but the best for you and, honestly, do hope you’re well.” And I do because a piece of me will always love her even though I shouldn’t.

With that, I turn and leave her gawking after me.

I feel so much lighter, like I’ve finally let go of a weight that’s been holding me down all these years. My heart is a little less broken walking away from her. I want to find Dallas and tell him, but on my way back to the gymnasium, I run into the other last person I want to see.

“Wilhelmina, how come this is the first time I’ve seen you tonight? You look great.” Sean’s words run together a little at the end. His gaze moves over me in a way that sends a shiver down my spine. “Sometimes, I wonder what would have happened if I hadn’t listened. I should have said fuck it and asked you anyway. Your rack is hands down the best in our class.”

I smile tightly and ignore the comment about my rack. Apparently, drunk and creepy is his current vibe. “Well, good thing you ended up going with the right person since you’re marrying Brooklyn.”

He looks around before he leans in uncomfortably close and drops his voice. “She was my runner-up. You were always my number one. I mean, that body.” He winks, and his expression shifts, brow furrowing. “Wild that you and Bright ended up together. How’d that even happen? Especially when he was always such a dick to you. All the student council posters he and his hockey buddies trashed, and the notes they stuffed in your locker...” He tips his head. “They were pretty ruthless, weren’t they?”

I believed that about the posters and notes, but I didn’t have confirmation until now. And maybe Sean is just being a jerk because he can, but it makes the wounds fresh again. “We were kids, and Dallas did a lot of stupid stuff back then,” I say as calmly as I can. “We all did.”

I thought I was going to conquer it all—be this cool, new, fun Hemi, but I don’t know if I can handle facing my past like this. Confronting Brooklyn was one thing, but this conversation is dismantling my armor with every harsh, painful memory dredged up by Sean’s words.

“He really screwed you over, though. Came into the locker room and threatened to have the hockey team come after anyone who asked you to prom. Always singling you out like his favorite toy.” He shakes his head. “But now he has money and he’s famous, so I guess that makes up for it, eh?”

The hairs on the back of my neck stand on end a second before Dallas appears behind Sean. His face is a mask of rage, lip curled as he growls, “Who the fuck do you think you are, talking to my fiancée like that?”

His eyes meet mine, and I see his regret, as much as I feel it wrapping around me.

Sean startles and backs up a step but puffs his chest out. “What, you don’t like the truth, Bright? Too real for you?”

“You don’t know the first thing about the truth, Sean. Don’t presume to know what my relationship with Wills is like. While you’ve been living in your time capsule, spamming the world with your bullshit, I’ve been atoning for my mistakes. Working to never be that selfish asshole again. I regret a lot of things, especially when it comes to Wills, but I sure as fuck don’t regret telling you not to ask her to prom. You didn’t deserve to even be near her then, and you don’t deserve her now.”

“And you think you do?”

“Not back then, no. I was a dick and focused on the wrong things. But I’m going to spend the rest of my life making up for those mistakes.”

My head is spinning, and my heart feels like it’s shattering all over again. Because as nice as it is to have Dallas stand up for me, it’s gutting to have our tumultuous past thrown in my face all over again.

“I need air.”

Dallas tries to grab my hand, but I shake him off and head for the closest exit, desperate to escape this pain.