The next afternoon, a subtle melancholy invaded the Jeep. The drive back was the exact opposite of the drive to Hana. Dante had kept his hands stationed at ten and two like he was taking a driving test. Every effort I made to engage in conversation, he met with crisp civility.
I tried to convince myself that it was due to mutual exhaustion. After enjoying a delicious meal, the night before, hand-prepared in our suite at the hotel, we had relaxed in Adirondack chairs by the beach. The domesticity of it all had lulled me into a peaceful contentedness.
When the chill of the night had seeped into my bones, I had settled onto Dante's lap. We had snuggled in silence. A silence I had been afraid to break, in case the dreamlike state we had entered would somehow disappear. Dante had gathered me in his arms and carried me back to bed where he'd made love to me over and over, with a slow and seeking tenderness that scared me. Like he had been saying goodbye.
After we had arrived back at the Four Seasons Resort, Dante valeted the Jeep and stomped to my suite. He lingered in the doorway, and I caught him staring at the bed where it had all begun. The tightness in my chest was unbearable, and I coughed to break the silence.
"So, you leave tonight?" I asked.
"Yeah."
"Do you want to grab dinner before you take off?"
"I'm going to order room service, pack my bags and maybe try to catch a nap."
I rocked on my heels and schooled my features, hoping he couldn't sense my sadness. "Oh, okay."
"I had a great time," he said with a half-smile.
"Yeah, me too," I whispered.
"Take care of yourself," he said, turning to leave.
"That's it, huh?"
The smile on his face fell. "What were you expecting?"
I opened my mouth and snapped it shut since I wasn't sure how to respond. What had I been expecting? He'd made it pretty clear that there was no future for us beyond this stolen weekend.
"I don't know," I said with a shrug. "More..."
With a grimace, he shoved his hands into his pockets, gazing out the windows at the ocean in the distance. "I can't give you anything more."
Fierce disappointment clogged my throat, but I refused to cry in front of him. "Why not?"
"Because I'm not built that way. Never have been."
"That's a copout."
He strode closer with fists clenched at his sides. "No. It's not."
"Because of Keandra?" I asked, matching his hard stare with one of my own.
"No, because it's pointless. Growing up, I watched my mom hold on to men who treated her like shit so she didn't have to be alone. Horrible men who showed their affection for her kids with their fists."
I'd suspected as much from things he'd said over the years, but I was unprepared to deal with the well of emotion the confirmation caused. "You're not your mother and you're not those men."
He scrubbed a hand down his face and shook his head with disgust. "And then I watched your brother get fucked over by the woman who was supposed to love him. So bad, he drank himself into a stupor every day for three months straight. I was the one who had to watch that shit. I was the one who had to drag him out of bed and make him eat, even though he screamed at me to let him die."
I wound my hands around my churning stomach. "I'm sorry. I didn't know that."
"Of course, you didn't. Damian hid that from you and your parents." I reached out to comfort him, but he recoiled as if my touch might burn him. "You and I both knew what this was. Meaningless sex."
"That's bullshit." While it may have started out that way, I knew I hadn't imagined our connection. "It wasn't meaningless to me," I whispered, staring down at the floor because I hated the hardness in his eyes.
"Shit," he swore, spinning away and taking several steps toward the door. "What did you think was going to happen? That we were going to ride off into the sunset together?" He turned back around and pierced me with a mocking grin. "Get your head out of the clouds, Pip."
My childhood nickname skipping off his tongue in a sneer was like a hot poker to the chest. "Fuck you, Dante."
"No thanks. I've had my fill." Callousness was something I'd rarely seen Dante display. It blindsided me, white-hot pain slicing through me.
"Get out," I gritted.
"Erica..."
The regret I heard in his voice angered me more than his harsh words. It gave me hope. And hope was dangerous, like a lit firework that might explode in my hand at any second.
I forced a smile. "Don't worry, I won't mention any of this to Damian. We can go back to how it was before."
"Barely contained contempt?"
"What more do you want from me?"
"I want us to be friends."
An offer of friendship was normally something to celebrate, but after the last forty-eight hours, it was lacking. "I'm not sure I can do that."
With a deep sigh, he trudged towards me. "Give me a chance to prove I can be your friend."
I knew I was settling. Since I planned to move to Seattle, the continued awkwardness between Dante and me would only hurt my brother. I needed to get over my adolescent crush, even if it always simmered in my heart, waiting to boil over.
"Okay."
Relief softened Dante's eyes. "Really? You'd be willing to try?"
Swallowing down the lump in my throat, I nodded. Dante stepped closer and extended his arms like he might hug me, but I stopped him with a hand on his chest. The smile on his face fell, and he took a step back.
"Have a safe trip home," I managed.
"You too," he said, as he backed towards the door. "Let me know if you need any help with the move."
"Okay."
With one last fleeting smile, Dante slipped out the door. I wanted to climb into bed and cry for the next twenty-four hours, but I worried Dante's scent might still linger on the sheets.
My phone had died the night before so I plugged it into the charger by the bed. I hopped into the shower and tried to wash away the stench of disappointment wafting from my pores. Flitting memories of Dante's hands and mouth on my body, from the night before, came rushing back. When we had arrived at the Travaasa Hotel, Dante had pulled me into the shower and washed me from head to toe and then made me come with his mouth while I writhed on the stone shower bench.
Tears seeped from my eyes and joined the water circling the drain. I would never forget our weekend. It was chock-full of memories that I would cherish once I moved past the grief of losing my heart to Dante.
The sound of my phone ringing ripped me from my thoughts. I brushed away my tears and hopped out of the shower, surprised to see Lila's pretty face lighting up the screen.
"Hi, Lila." I wrapped a towel around my dripping body. "How are you?"
"Erica, I have been trying to get a hold of you since yesterday," Lila said, hysteria creeping into her voice.
Foreboding chills skittered down my spine. "What's going on?"
"It's Jake. He was jumped last night coming out of a club."
I stumbled to the bed and slumped down. "Is he okay?"
"No. It's bad. He's in a medically-induced coma."
"Shit." I sank my head into my hands. "Did they catch the mugger?"
"The police are saying whoever did this didn't steal anything. They think it might have been a hate crime."
Brent's text from the day before flashed before my eyes and a heavy weight settled into my stomach. In my lust-induced haze, I had forgotten to text Jake to warn him. I had no doubt that Brent had something to do with this.
"Can you call his family? The police tried to contact them, but they refused to come," Lila said.
Anger replaced the guilt coursing through my veins. Jake's brother and his parents had never accepted what they viewed as a lifestyle choice.
"We're his only family. I'll be on the next flight out. Will you stay with him until I get back?"
"Of course," Lila said. "I'm so sorry."
"Thanks. And whatever you do, Lila, stay away from Brent."