Read Online Snowbound by Scarlet Blackwell - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Scarlet Blackwell
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hadn't changed. "I had another couple of operations. Didn't make any difference. Sometimes I think they might as well cut the damn thing off."
Dylan didn't respond. An uneasy silence grew.
"Hey, Dylan." The blonde waitress who knew the sheriff as 'honey' appeared at their table, perusing Hayden with interest.
"Hi, Michelle. I'll take an iced tea, please."
"You bet, and for you, sir?"
"Um, cranberry juice, please."
"Coming right up." Michelle winked at Dylan and left the table.
"She likes you," Hayden remarked.
Dylan shrugged.
"Are you out?"
"No."
"Why not? You're still gay, aren't you?"
Dylan shot him something perilously close to a glare. His body language was all stiff tension, all fight-or-flight. " What ? Am I still gay? I wasn't aware you could change back and forth. I'm not you , you know."
Hayden was deeply stung. In his fondest fantasies, Dylan had fallen into his arms at first sight today. Never had he been unfriendly and antagonistic.
Hayden swallowed. He clasped his sweating hands together on his lap. "You're angry with me."
Dylan looked away. A muscle ticked in his clamped jaw. "Does your wife know you're here?"
"My wife died of breast cancer two years ago."
Dylan's eyes flew to his. Before he could speak, the words tumbled out that Hayden had tried to formulate in his head on the way here, the words he was convinced he would never have the courage to say.
"I couldn't come back here while she was still alive. You have to understand that. I made a commitment to her. She battled it for seven years. I would never have left her. Please tell me you understand."
Dylan didn't say anything. He kept his eyes on Hayden. Hayden bowed his head. Tears dripped from his stinging eyes to splash the table. He turned his face abruptly to the wall, hand over his eyes as the waitress arrived with their drinks.
The silence with which she put the glasses down and left suggested she was communicating non-verbally with Dylan about Hayden's distress, but Hayden didn't care. The misery had broken through the dam, finally.
Not once had he ever cried over the loss of Dylan. Not the way he'd cried over Julianna.
He wiped his eyes roughly but the tears continued to pour. "Please," he said. "Please tell me you don't think I'm the most terrible person who ever lived." He sat back against his seat, head bowed, trying to stifle sobs.
"You need to pull yourself together. I didn't bring you here to cry like a little girl. And I don't know what you want. I'm with someone."
Dylan's voice stung him like a lash. His words tore deep, fresh wounds into Hayden's scars. Hayden stumbled out of the booth. He upset the glass of cranberry juice; it flooded scarlet onto his jeans, the seat, the floor. Hayden ran from the diner.
CHAPTER EIGHT
He stumbled into the bright sunshine, in front of a car just pulling up, which honked furiously at him.
"Hey, Mister! Watch where you're fucking going."
Hayden started running, although with his poor leg it was more of an ungraceful shuffle, back toward the police station, to where his car waited to take him away from this nightmare.
He didn't get far. He ducked into the first alleyway he found, leg on fire. He held onto the wall, bent double, mouth full of saliva, ready to vomit.
No, no, this couldn't be happening. Oh God, what was he even doing here? He'd waited two agonising years after the preceding ten and he'd told himself it was too late now, that he would have truly missed his chance. All his life he'd tried to be a good person and being a good person involved atoning for his one terrible, unforgiveable sin: staying with the person he'd pledged his life to. He couldn't have come back any sooner. He couldn't have abandoned Julianna for anything. Not even Dylan.
He cried, clutching to the wall with his fingers curled into claws. His head hung down. The nausea receded, leaving him weak and uncoordinated. At that moment, he didn't know how he was going to get back to his car, let alone drive
Dylan didn't respond. An uneasy silence grew.
"Hey, Dylan." The blonde waitress who knew the sheriff as 'honey' appeared at their table, perusing Hayden with interest.
"Hi, Michelle. I'll take an iced tea, please."
"You bet, and for you, sir?"
"Um, cranberry juice, please."
"Coming right up." Michelle winked at Dylan and left the table.
"She likes you," Hayden remarked.
Dylan shrugged.
"Are you out?"
"No."
"Why not? You're still gay, aren't you?"
Dylan shot him something perilously close to a glare. His body language was all stiff tension, all fight-or-flight. " What ? Am I still gay? I wasn't aware you could change back and forth. I'm not you , you know."
Hayden was deeply stung. In his fondest fantasies, Dylan had fallen into his arms at first sight today. Never had he been unfriendly and antagonistic.
Hayden swallowed. He clasped his sweating hands together on his lap. "You're angry with me."
Dylan looked away. A muscle ticked in his clamped jaw. "Does your wife know you're here?"
"My wife died of breast cancer two years ago."
Dylan's eyes flew to his. Before he could speak, the words tumbled out that Hayden had tried to formulate in his head on the way here, the words he was convinced he would never have the courage to say.
"I couldn't come back here while she was still alive. You have to understand that. I made a commitment to her. She battled it for seven years. I would never have left her. Please tell me you understand."
Dylan didn't say anything. He kept his eyes on Hayden. Hayden bowed his head. Tears dripped from his stinging eyes to splash the table. He turned his face abruptly to the wall, hand over his eyes as the waitress arrived with their drinks.
The silence with which she put the glasses down and left suggested she was communicating non-verbally with Dylan about Hayden's distress, but Hayden didn't care. The misery had broken through the dam, finally.
Not once had he ever cried over the loss of Dylan. Not the way he'd cried over Julianna.
He wiped his eyes roughly but the tears continued to pour. "Please," he said. "Please tell me you don't think I'm the most terrible person who ever lived." He sat back against his seat, head bowed, trying to stifle sobs.
"You need to pull yourself together. I didn't bring you here to cry like a little girl. And I don't know what you want. I'm with someone."
Dylan's voice stung him like a lash. His words tore deep, fresh wounds into Hayden's scars. Hayden stumbled out of the booth. He upset the glass of cranberry juice; it flooded scarlet onto his jeans, the seat, the floor. Hayden ran from the diner.
CHAPTER EIGHT
He stumbled into the bright sunshine, in front of a car just pulling up, which honked furiously at him.
"Hey, Mister! Watch where you're fucking going."
Hayden started running, although with his poor leg it was more of an ungraceful shuffle, back toward the police station, to where his car waited to take him away from this nightmare.
He didn't get far. He ducked into the first alleyway he found, leg on fire. He held onto the wall, bent double, mouth full of saliva, ready to vomit.
No, no, this couldn't be happening. Oh God, what was he even doing here? He'd waited two agonising years after the preceding ten and he'd told himself it was too late now, that he would have truly missed his chance. All his life he'd tried to be a good person and being a good person involved atoning for his one terrible, unforgiveable sin: staying with the person he'd pledged his life to. He couldn't have come back any sooner. He couldn't have abandoned Julianna for anything. Not even Dylan.
He cried, clutching to the wall with his fingers curled into claws. His head hung down. The nausea receded, leaving him weak and uncoordinated. At that moment, he didn't know how he was going to get back to his car, let alone drive
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