Game of Love (The Remingtons, Book One: Love in Bloom Series)

Chapter Five, Game of Love

Chapter Five

BY THE TIME they called information, tracked down Dina's address, and reached her apartment, the sharp edge of Ellie's buzz had softened. She never would have been able to decipher the directions if it weren't for Dex. She was glad for his company, too, even if she had no idea how to handle her racing heart when he was around. She hadn't remembered how alone a big city could make a person feel.

The foyer of Dina's apartment was barely large enough for Ellie and her suitcase. To her right was a cozy living room with just enough room to walk in front of the couch and put her feet up on the coffee table. To her left was the smallest—and maybe the messiest—kitchen she'd ever seen, and just beyond, a full bathroom. The door to the bedroom was off the living room and it was closed, with no light snaking out from under the crack and no signs of life behind it.

"Do you think she's here?" Dex asked.

Ellie shrugged. Now facing the reality that she didn't really know Dina at all, the nerves in her neck tightened. She reached up and rubbed the ache. What had she been thinking when she called Dina? They'd hung out with the same group of friends, having shared the same floor in the dorms. She'd seemed nice enough, and they'd often talked in the middle of the night, when Ellie couldn't sleep and would hunker down on the couch in the recreation room. She knew then that Dina came out of her room those nights as a hint for the guys she'd picked up for one-night stands to take off, but she'd never carried that thought through to her decision about calling her for a place to stay. She'd been so damn desperate to leave Maryland that, in lieu of Dex, Dina had seemed to be her only option.

"I don't know. It's awfully quiet. Maybe they went to his apartment after all." Ellie set her suitcase on the coffee table, then flopped on the couch. "I'm sorry, Dex. I didn't mean to make a scene in front of your friends. It's been a long day, and I'm just a little frustrated."

Dex smiled and shrugged. "No worries. You kinda took me by surprise, El. I still can't believe you're here. I wasn't sure I'd ever see you again."

"That makes two of us, and I have an interview tomorrow at ten." She covered her face. "Please apologize to your friends. I never drink, so you can blame it on that." She peeked out from between her fingers and saw Dex arch his brow. She sighed and threw her head back against the cushions. "Okay, fine. It's me. It's always me. I still haven't learned how to gracefully extricate myself from uncomfortable situations. Whatever."

"They're cool, Ellie. They won't care. Listen, give me your number, and I want to give you mine, and my address, so you have it."

"Okay, but you don't have to worry about me. I'm fine." Liar, liar pants on fire.

He handed her his phone. "It's not you I'm worried about. Put your info in here."

She handed him her phone. "You too." She watched him inputting his information. His kindness was being smothered by the elephant in the room—and making her feel like she was going to suffocate. She had to get it out in the open. "Dex, don't you hate me for the way I left...after that weekend...?" It hurt so much to say it out loud. To acknowledge what she'd done, how she'd cast his love—their love—aside. Say it. You owe him that. "When I left four years ago." She held her breath.

He looked at her for a long time. Just when she was ready to apologize, he said, "I thought I never wanted to see you again. But I could never hate you, Ellie. You're like the puzzle I could never solve. The game I could never win."

He shrugged, but she recognized the hurt that lingered in his eyes, and it pierced her heart. She wanted to apologize, but words would never be enough. Somewhere deep in her soul, she'd known back then that sneaking out was unforgivable, and yet she'd been too scared to stay.

He reached for her hand, and this time, she took it willingly. He pulled her into a hug.

This is dangerous.

Her body remembered the curves of him, the feel of him against her the last night they'd been together four years earlier, when she'd come back needing the security of him and had found so much more. She'd lain in his arms. He was reading, planning in that crazy smart brain of his, and she'd been...memorizing him. Longing to make love to him. It was that longing that had sent her hightailing it out of New York while he slept that night. Now, remembering the ache of knowing that night might have been the last time they'd ever see each other, she drank him in, allowed her body to fall weightless into the safety of him, and Dex tightened his embrace.

She felt it again, the desire to kiss him. The desire to have something more with him, and it scared the shit out of her.

"Thank you, Dexy." She drew back from him, and in his eyes she saw the same longing she felt in her heart. She pried herself away. "You have to meet your friends."

She watched his jaw clench, and at first she thought it might be hurt that she saw in his dark eyes. Then she recognized it for what it was. He stepped back and ran his hand through his hair, then tore his eyes from hers and walked to the door. He was steeling himself against her. She'd hurt him and he wasn't going to be hurt again. She couldn't blame him really. Even she didn't know what she was doing these days. Or maybe ever.

"El..."

"Thanks for everything. I'm glad we ran into each other." Christ, she was torn. She wanted him to stay and hold her and she wanted him to leave in equal measure. I'm a mess, and I'm not gonna drag you down with me.

"Me too. I've got a huge release in three weeks and almost no time to breathe." He looked down.

Her heart broke just a little. I've ruined us.

"But I'd like to see you and catch up. Can I call you?" he asked.

Ellie bit back the lump in her throat and grabbed hold of the security of him. "I'd like that."

Dex opened the door and hesitated, sending Ellie's heart into another flutter of confusion. Stay. Go. Take me with you. Somewhere over the last four years she'd buried the truth of how much she'd needed him. How much she'd wanted him. She'd had to in order to survive. As he closed the door behind him, she felt the same sinking feeling in her gut as the last night she'd crawled back out his window as a teenager and the same heart-shattering desperation she'd felt four years earlier, when she'd come back full of need and empty promises and then left when her need for him was too immense and the fear of hurting him—and herself—became all consuming. She'd sucked away his strength to use as her own and then snuck away like a thief in the night. Now, the same gut-wrenching, inescapable pain that had followed her back to Maryland four years earlier returned, and it was, without a doubt, the worst pain in her life.

When she was finally able to force her legs to move again, she went to the bathroom to wash her face. She had to stand beside the toilet to close the door. The tile floor was made of one-inch-by-two-inch blue and white squares, circa 1965. The mirror had a warped haze going on, morphing Ellie's face into even more of a mess. To her left was a small shower. The shower curtain hung lopsided, missing two rings at the top, and the bottom was peppered with specks of mildew. She wondered how Dina managed to live with such filth. Ellie swallowed her distaste. Some of the foster families she'd stayed with had beautiful bathrooms on the main floors of the house, but the bathroom she and the other foster children were forced to use looked much like this one. She washed her face and brushed her teeth. She'd have to shower in the morning, but the idea of climbing into the filthy thing now gave her a headache. Or maybe that was the rum. She wasn't sure. With a shower out of the question, she cast off her bra and slipped into a pair of sweats and a clean T-shirt, then checked the alarm on her cell phone. She climbed onto the couch and pulled a throw blanket over herself. She was asleep in seconds.