“Dylan.” I touch his back. “Are you okay?”
He takes my hand and leads me up the stairs to his bedroom. We sit down on the bed, and Dylan turns to stare out his massive windows at the beautiful view. Finally, he looks over at me.
“I guess I was ashamed. Like you were. Except you never lied to me.”
I shake my head. “I didn’t mean it like that.”
“I know that. But it’s true. You’re more courageous than I am, Jasalie. You don’t need your parents to back you up. You do that all on your own. And me while you’re at it. Whether it’s a reporter, a paparazzo, or my family. I don’t know how you do it.”
“I never had the backup. It’s not the same thing. What you had to deal with back there…” I hesitate and then go for honest. “It sucks, Dylan. They’re assholes.” I correct myself. “I’m sorry. Not assholes. Jealous. That’s what they are.”
He frowns. “Jealous?”
“Like green-eyed monster jealous.”
“You think?” he asks me.
“Of course. Honey, why else would they treat you that way? They can’t stand what you have because they wish they could have it, too. I mean do you support them out of your salary, or does your father make enough money to afford that Mercedes?”
He doesn’t answer me.
“I’m not saying you’re wrong to support them,” I say quickly, feeling like my words are coming out all wrong. “I’m just saying they’re wrong to attack you.”
Dylan nods slowly and looks away from me to the window.
When he turns back, his piercing dark eyes are filled with pain. “Did this scare you off?”
“Dylan, of course not. I care so much for you. Even more than I did. I admire you for making so much of yourself. I always did. I just didn’t know you did it in spite of your family.”
When he kisses me, I take his face in my hands and try to put all the love I feel for him into it. He reaches for my shirt, and we strip off our clothes and shut out the world until everything feels safe again.
* * *
“So,” Dylan says a while later as I snuggle my naked body against his in bed. “You want to go for a walk on the beach?”
I tilt my head. “Are you sure you’re okay?”
“Yeah.” He jumps out of bed, away from my gaze, and starts to get dressed. “I want to take you down to the beach. It’s where I run.”
“Away from your pain?” The words slip out without my meaning them to.
He glances at me briefly but doesn’t stop buttoning his shirt. I watch him, realizing how little I’d known about him before we came to L.A.
“Are you glad we came here?” I ask him.
He nods. “Of course. It’s been harder than I thought it would be to come back to reality. I almost felt like we were the only two people in the world out in Tucson. You know?”
“But your entire team was there.”
“That doesn’t matter. When I’m on the field or in the game room, that’s also a suspension of reality. Especially when you’re winning.”
I stand up and touch his cheek. “Let’s go for a walk.”
* * *
I’ve been to the beaches in California hundreds of times in my life but never to the one where Dylan takes me. I tend to avoid Malibu because the biggest memory I have of my mother was at a Malibu beach. I don’t know why we were there, but I remember the sand, the ocean, and her long hair in my face as she carried me into the water. I cried when we had to leave.
When I tell Dylan, he takes a seat on the sand and gestures me to join him. “Do you remember her bringing you to social services?”
