The heel of Chloe’s hand smacks down on the side of a knife, smashing a clove of garlic. She busies herself with chopping stuff and dumping it all into the bowl with the avocado. A squeeze of lemon, a pinch of salt, and a big fucking sigh are all that fills the space between us.
“So, Dallas,” I prompt, taking the bowl from Chloe and mixing the contents together.
Silence hangs heavy in the kitchen as she dumps the meat into a skillet. She pushes the ground beef around until it starts to sizzle, filling the air with a delicious scent. “My husband. Jake’s dad,” she says softly.
My heart screeches to a halt.
This is what I needed to know. I set the bowl on the counter and nod. I check her hand, noting not just the absence of a wedding ring, but also no ridge. No tan line. Not one indication that there’s someone else in the picture here.
I seethe. I process. A sardonic laugh huffs its way out of my chest, and as much as I hate what she just said, she said it. It’s out there now, and no matter what happy little possibilities have weaseled their way in, I have to do what’s right. I need to go. I’m not a cheater—not that anything has happened beyond a handful of conversations and some stray spank-bank thoughts—but if I were this guy Dallas, I’d be fucking pissed that some dick was having dinner with my family.How did I get this wrong?
I take a step back, ready to make my excuse and leave, when Chloe continues, “He died—was killed—five and a half years ago. The kicker is, it wasn’t a service death. He was on his way homefrom a deployment.” Now that she’s talking, the information just flows from her in a torrent.
Relief battles with sorrow as I watch her lay herself wide open.
“Dallas was going to surprise Jake at his kindergarten graduation. Had been planning it from the minute he realized it was even a possibility to make it back from the desert in time. His best friend was on a later flight, but when Jack made it to the school and Dallas still hadn’t shown, it never even crossed my mind to worry. I knew his flight had landed. I figured he’d just gotten held up.” She slides the pan to a cool burner. “I just didn’t realize how close to the truth I was.”
A deep, bracing breath lifts her shoulders, and as she releases it, her spine straightens, resolve filling her. “I would love to say that it was completely senseless, but the police report said he saved lives. And that’s not something I will ever take away from him. Not ever.”
Chloe finishes assembling dinner, putting things in bowls and sliding them across the counter to me. When she finally lifts her gaze to mine, a sad smile pulls at her lips.
Waves of wreckage wash over me, cutting off my air. “I’m sorry.” Anything more than that gets stuck in my throat, choking me. I work my jaw and transfer the bowls from the counter to the small table by the window.
Loss is part of life. Sometimes, it just feels like it’s the one thing that can drown me.
Now would probably be a good time for me to share my shit as well. To tell her about Aly and the rest of the story of how I ended up in Virginia. But Jake comes back down to the kitchen looking for his dinner.
So instead of more tragedy, we talk rugby. Chloe asks him about his day, his schoolwork, and plans for the long weekend. He tells me all about his video game, and he seems to really beokay with me being here. I catch him staring at me more than once, but that’s it. Nothing hostile appears to be behind it.
Through it all, it never once leaves my mind that this is someone else’s family. That they’re here because of the love and commitment between two people. Perfect or not, they worked together and found a way to deal with the challenges life had handed them. No one left this union—this thing they had a hand in building—on purpose. Neither of them took what they had and destroyed it. Neither sought to rip a gaping hole in the fabric of their family. Neither intentionally tore this thing apart.
I think I do a pretty solid job of stuffing my shit down and acting like what Chloe just shared with me didn’t impact me the way it did. Like it didn’t rock my foundation. I smile. I joke. But when Jake says his good nights and scampers off upstairs, I’m about done with myself.
I stack the empty dishes and take them to the sink. I probably just need to cut my losses and go because the last thing I want is for my mood to drag anyone down, least of all this strong, beautiful woman who’s already dealt with enough shit.
Chloe sidles up next to me, softly resting her hand on my arm, pinning me in place with a tender touch. The electricity pinging between us doesn’t seem to be affected by the black cloud hanging over my head. And despite my Eeyore moment, her touch is like a balm to my wounded soul.
“I feel like I’ve been slinging one apology after another, but I’m really sorry if that made you uncomfortable.” She takes the plates from me and rinses them before stacking everything into the dishwasher. “I don’t usually make a big deal out of Dallas’s passing, but with the dog and everything…” Her words trail off on the tail end of a shrug.
“It’s fine, really. I asked; you answered. That’s it. No worries.”
Obviously, I didn’t do that great of a job at hiding my shit. I grab a wet cloth from the edge of the sink and wipe down the table.
Curiosity digs in, and I ask, “But what does the dog have to do with any of this?”
I clean off the counter as Chloe puts the leftovers in the fridge. Her snort of laughter takes me off guard.
She mutters a quiet, “Shit,” and tilts her head back, staring at the ceiling. “Well, Bronson was Dallas’s dog. One hundred percent, no doubt about it. The last time I saw him bolt across a field and dance around someone like he did this afternoon, was the last time Dallas came home.”
Ice crawls up my spine and settles at the base of my skull.
She chuckles as the fridge door whooshes closed. “And I’ve never seen him get into a car or truck like that and then flat-out refuse to move.”
What the hell?
“I don’t know what it means.” She throws her hands out to her sides, palms in the air. “I just… I don’t know. I don’t know why I brought it up. I’m sorry.”
My mind races as the past rushes over me, yet my feet seem to be cemented to the floor.
