Nikki
“I can help with dinner. What are we making?” Dak offers when we get back to our house.
The walk back from the quad was so quiet I could almost hear the spring flowers pushing out of the ground. Thankfully Dalt had his car and didn’t walk with us. I doubt he would have walked with me anyway.
The hurt that swept across his face when he asked about my tattoo was evident. I freaked when he mentioned seeing it. I should be happy he thought the C stood for Cliff. Still, I can’t get the vision of the pain in his eyes out of my head.
The truth is, I haven’t been a nun since Dalt punched a fist-size hole in my heart. Hardly. I’ve been with a few guys…um, a few more than a few. I’ve been working my way through some of the other athletes. Why athletes? Because of their reputations for stamina, a lot of experience using their tongues, fingers, and massive dicks. One time I indulged in a fling with an engineering geek. I figured it couldn’t hurt to try a variety of options to see if I could find someone to measure up to Dalt’s skills and scrub him out of my soul.
Shallow? Perhaps. I make no apologies. I’m not interested in love. That bridge was crossed and burned. I might rebuild it someday, but for now I’m only interested in someone to help heal the wounds left by Dalt and wash away his memory.
Cliff was one of them. I hooked up with him a couple of times. He’s a nice guy. Almost as much of an Adonis as Dalt with ridiculous sculpted muscles, suntanned chiseled face, dreamy chocolate brown eyes, huge…uh…biceps. Bit of a player, but still always shows a determined interest in getting me to go out with him. I guess he’s not a total hit and run slut. Problem is, he’s not Dalt.
I don’t turn into a mushy mess of feelings and sensations when I’m within twenty feet of him. When he gazes into my eyes or gives me the slightest touch, my throat doesn’t go dry, I don’t lose all capacity to think or speak, and my pussy doesn’t throb at a level ten on the Richter scale. Nope. Only goddamn pain in my ass Dalton Walker does that. So I keep things light and friendly but stick to a no dating rule. I don’t need any messy complications. I have other important responsibilities right now to consider.
I know Dalt must know I haven’t been a saint for the past two years. I haven’t kept it a secret. Truth? I’m a little ashamed to admit some of my whoring around may have been with the devious thought to make him jealous. Yet my chest hitched at the agony in his eyes when he saw me with Cliff.
Dammit.
I don’t know why he would care if I’m with the whole football team or have every one of their initials tattooed on my ass. He didn’t want my ass or any part of me anymore.
“Uh, no we’re good. Nik and I can handle it,” Trace says and takes my mind off feeling sorry for Dalt, the man who had his dad offer me money to get out of his life. I’m such a pathetic mess.
Trace flicks her chin in the direction of the stairs. She’s either trying to tell Dak she wants to have her way with him upstairs right this second or she wants him to leave the room to give her time to interrogate me.
“Oh. Right. Okay. I’m going to take a shower, then. The uh…water will be running…I won’t be able to hear anything going on in the house.” Dak makes his smooth I-have-no-idea-what’s-going-on comment and heads upstairs.
Interrogation it is.
Trace chews on her bottom lip while she waits for him to get out of sight. “Okay, Nik, I think you better tell me what’s going on between you and Dalton. He’s usually so laid back. I’ve never seen him angry. Not to mention he looked like someone ran over his puppy when he thought you were with Cliff. What’s going on?”
“Nothing’s going—”
“Don’t even.” Trace holds up a hand and stops me. “Don’t try denying this thing between you and Dalt. We all see the way you look at each other and you could cut the tension with a knife when you’re both in a room together. Dak told me you guys were inseparable a couple of years ago and it looks as if you’re both still crazy in love with each other.”
“Dalt’s not in love with me.” I flop onto the crazy ass sofa Tracey’s mom bought for her. Too bad its wild, over the top colored flowers can’t spew sunshine and happiness up my ass to alleviate the level of depression spreading over me.
“But you’re in love with him.” Trace states the answer like it’s obvious. “When I was going through everything with Dak, you were there for me every step of the way. Hell, you even threatened to kick Dak’s ass. Remember?” Trace smiles and sits next to me. “Talk to me, Nik. Let me help you like you helped me. If it hadn’t been for you, Dak and I may never have gotten back together.”
“You guys would have gotten together no matter what. You both are too much in love not to be together.” I drop my head back onto the sofa cushion and stare up at the ceiling. I thought I had that with Dalt. How could I have been so wrong?
“I think you’re wrong about Dalt not loving you.” I would think the little smarty could read minds if I didn’t know how long it took her to read Dak’s love-crazed thoughts for her.
“Did you see the way he reacted when he saw Cliff put his hands on you?”
Irrelevant.
I won’t be deluded any longer into thinking Dalt’s capable of real love.
“That’s because he’s used to getting what he wants when he wants it. It has nothing to do with love. It’s just no one ever says no to the great Dalton Walker and his horrible father,” I sneer and run a finger under my eye to swipe away a tear. I refuse to shed one more tear over the thought of the nauseating Harrison Walker.
“What are you talking about?” Trace’s sweet naiveté shines in her wide-eyed, shocked disbelief. “I’ve never thought of Dalt as that type of guy. He strikes me as…I don’t know…someone who is sensible and comforting and…and dependable. He’s always there for Dak when he needs him. I’ve never seen the demanding selfish side of him you’re talking about. And what does his father have to do with it?”
“That’s because you’ve never seen the side of Dalt I have.” I exhale a huge breath.
Except for my mom, I’ve never shared the truth about what happened between Dalt and me with anyone. I’ve kept the pain and anguish inside me for two years until the ache has grown to the point where it’s gnawing at my insides like some parasitic alien devouring whatever’s left of my heart.
Maybe opening up to a friend about the repugnant story of my love life wouldn’t be such a bad idea. It might help alleviate some of the suffocating ache.
“It’s true, Dalt and I were together for a while. It was…well…magical. I was crazy in love with him. I almost didn’t believe it was possible to love someone so much. It was like we were the only two people in the world, like we didn’t need anyone else and we could do anything together. I believed those ridiculous platitudes. He’s my other half. He completes me.”
I sneer at how naive I was to believe all the romantic fictional slop about relationships. But Trace is nodding like those insipid clichés make perfect sense to her. I almost feel guilty telling her the tale which will suck all her restored belief in true love’s kiss right out of her sails.
“So, what happened?” She pushes. “I think I still see some of the magic stardust swirling around you two.” She uses a finger to make an imaginary circle around me.
“Hmph. That’s not stardust, that’s fallout. I thought he felt the same way until his father showed up at my dorm one night when Dalt was away at a game.” I swallow the huge lump in my throat and fight back the stupid tears welling in my eyes.
“His father came to your dorm without him?” Trace furrows her brow.
“Yup. He came to do the dirty work to save his precious son from this evil, gold-digging vixen.”
“Get the fuck out.” Trace’s voice raises two octaves.
“When I came down to the student lounge, he introduced himself and started right in on what I assume was a well-rehearsed, recurring speech on Dalt’s behalf. I can still hear his voice like it was yesterday.” The noise of his words repeats inside my head like the sound of a dental drill.
I drop my voice to a deep, pretentious tone. “‘It’s just like Dalton to get himself into this kind of situation with a woman.’ A situation. I had become a situation to Dalt. ‘It’s the reason I agreed to come here and tell you myself, since he couldn’t bring himself to do it.’ And then he laid it on me, the truth about comforting, dependable Dalt.”
“What truth?”
“You’re going to love this. It went something like, ‘Dalton is engaged to a young woman from a very fine family at home in California. They grew up together and they plan on marrying as soon as they graduate from college.’”
“Get. The. Fuck. Out.” Trace’s mouth drops open in shock.
“No shit.” I’d make the Girl Scout’s scouts honor gesture to demonstrate my veracity but I was never a Girl Scout and don’t know it. Therefore, she’ll have to settle for the universal clout of the ‘no shit’ declaration. “But he wasn’t finished. He said, ‘They’ve been planning it for some time now. I’m sure this must come as a shock to you.’”
A shock? More like an electrocution. Dalt was engaged? The illogical, heart-shielding thought skittered through my mind he was talking about some other Dalton Walker. But as he continued to educate me on how different my lifestyle was from Dalt’s the realization he was talking about my Dalton Walker, the guy who had become my universe, dropped me like an Acme piano to my head.
“No. I don’t believe it. No way is Dalt engaged to someone. Dak would know it if he was.”
“His father made it very clear my lifestyle was much different than Dalt’s, while his fiancé’s was everything he wanted and needed.”
“Ridiculous. What do your different lifestyles have to do with being in love?”
“Apparently everything to the Walkers. He was willing to be very generous to get me out of Dalt’s life.”
“Generous how?”
“Generous to the tune of fifty thousand dollars.”
“What…what do you mean?”
“I mean, Mr. Loathsome Walker said, ‘You must realize your lifestyle is much different than what Dalton is accustomed to. That is why I’m prepared to write a check for any sum within reason which will assist you in getting on with your life after college. You won’t need Dalton for that.’ I won’t need Dalton for that! What the hell was that supposed to mean? I gave no fucks how much money Dalt had. I never did. But the elder Thing One and his offspring Thing Two must have thought I was all about the money. He made me an offer he thought I couldn’t refuse. He said, ‘ Dalton suggested I agree upon an amount with you and take care of it right now. I think fifty thousand dollars would be quite generous. Don’t you?’”
“What? No way!” Trace shrieks.
“Hold on to your lug nuts. You haven’t even heard the worst of it. After making me the offer he upped the ante. ‘Although I can see the reason for Dalton’s infatuation with you. You’re quite a lovely little thing. Perhaps you would consider having dinner with me?’ And then he ran the back of his hand down my cheek.”
“Mofo scumbag! He’s completely creepy.” Trace shudders like she’s trying to rid herself of the disgusting sensations of Harrison Walker. She won’t succeed. I haven’t been able to accomplish it in two years.
“You have no idea. If every muscle in my body hadn’t been immobilized by what he was saying and doing, I would have punched his lights out for touching me.”
“You totally should have.”
“I was numb. I think I stopped breathing for a full minute and then I just ran out of the building without saying a word. I left him standing there holding his repulsive designer checkbook in his disgusting hands. A few days later I left school and finished the rest of my course work for the term online. I took a couple semesters off. The university agreed to hold my soccer scholarship for me or I would never have been able to afford to come back.”
“Pervy. Son. Of. A. Bitch. What did Dalt say when you told him about the creepy slime ball coming to your dorm?”
“I never told him. Why did I need to tell him? He’s the one who sent his father to deliver his sweet message. I never wanted to see him or talk to him again. I couldn’t believe how heartless and cruel he was. Not just the lies but letting me fall insanely in love with him when he was engaged to someone else and then not even having the decency or courage to tell me himself. I thought if I went home for a while it would all just…I don’t know…go away.”
I don’t tell her the main reason I left school was to give birth to Chloe without anyone knowing it. If it hadn’t been for my mom’s unwavering support, I would never have been able to pull myself together and come back to Bernard to pursue my degree while she helped me raise my precious baby girl.
“Wait. You’ve never talked to Dalt about this?” Trace spreads her hands out in front of her like she needs the world to stop spinning for a minute to think about what I told her. And then she starts shaking her head. “Nik, you know I’ve got your back, always, and I would never want to make you feel worse than you already do. But…are you crazy!” She looks at me like I just told her the Earth is flat.
It’s a definite possibility. The crazy part, not the flat Earth part. “Yes. I am totally crazy for falling for a hockey slut like Dalt Walker. I knew better. I knew those hockey boys were trouble and I walked right into the deep end.”
Trace stares at me for a second, chewing on her bottom lip. Her eyes glaze over. Only then do I realize what I said.
“Oh. No. Not Dak. Dak’s different. He’s a sweetheart and I know he loves you.”
Trace breathes a huge sigh of relief. It’s not like I have a crystal ball. If I did I would never have glanced into the dangerous blue depths of Dalt’s eyes to begin with. But Dak appears to be a good guy. I have to hold onto a thread of faith in mankind, even if he is a hockey player.
“I guess in Dalt’s case the rotten apple doesn’t fall far from the dreadful tree.” The brimming tears I’ve been holding back let loose and stream down my face.
Dammit.
I hate crying, and even if I didn’t, Dalt doesn’t deserve any more of my tears.
Just then Dak comes back down the stairs. He stops midstride at the bottom of the steps. “Oh…uh…sorry. Should I go back up?” He points up the stairs like we don’t know where ‘back up’ is. “I thought it was getting close to the time for everyone to be here.”
“Oh shit. Dinner!” Trace jumps up from the sofa. “It’s okay. I prepped everything before we left for the game. I just have to put it in the oven and throw the salad together. You can help me in the kitchen, Dak. Why don’t you go up and take a shower, Nik? You’ll feel better. But we are so not done talking about this and what you need to do.”
Trace stomps off to the kitchen and I walk past poor Dak. He’s standing there running his hand back through his surfer-blonde hair trying to think of some way to handle the fate-worse-than-death situation of having to speak to the crying mess of female he’s been left alone with.
“Relax, hockey god. I’ll be fine. Go help Trace. I’ll be down in a minute.” As I sniff my way up the stairs, I’m trying to think of a way I can escape down the shower drain with the water.