“Completely,” he says, his eyes softening.
“For starters, I went and saw my mom this week,” I say, surprising myself.
His eyes widen. “Seriously?”
“Yep. I drove to Tucson. Dale followed me the whole way.” I cock my head at Dylan and lift an eyebrow.
He smiles. “I told you I was going to make sure you stayed safe.”
“I know. And I am safe. I gave my mom the check. She cried.”
“That’s amazing.” He furrows his brow. “Are you okay? I mean how was it seeing her?”
“It was…it was so difficult. I tried to leave five minutes after I’d gotten there. But, thanks to my stupid little habit of locking my keys in my car…”
Dylan’s mouth quirks up. “Oh, no.”
“Yeah,” I say. “So I was forced to remain with her for another hour and a half. And, looking back, I’m grateful for that time.”
“Wow.” Dylan touches my cheek. “I’m so proud of you.”“And she gave me the address for my biological father. So the next day, I went and saw him, too. Met him for the first time.”
“Shit.” He shakes his head. “I don’t know that I’d have the guts to do something like that. It took a lot of courage.”
Before I can say anything, he speaks again.
“I told Dante off,” Dylan says abruptly.
“You—”
“And my brother. And my dad. Plus, I fired Tim. After this year, I’m going with a new agent.”
“Oh. Wow.”
“I didn’t fight with any of them,” he says. “I just said I deserve respect. I couldn’t have done that before I knew you.”
“That’s not true.”
“Yes, it is,” he says. “Celebrity can be a protection, a backup. At least, it certainly was for me. And I’ve hidden behind that for years.”
I bite my lip and look at him.
“You showed me the door,” he says. “And I’ll always be grateful to you for that.”
“I appreciate you telling me that,” I say in a near-whisper.
“I have something else to say, Jasalie.” Dylan reaches for my knee and he squeezes it gently. “I’m going to be seeing someone.”
“What?” I freeze. “You came here to tell me that you’re seeing someone else…”
“No, no. That came out really wrong.” Dylan closes his eyes for a second. When he reopens them, he speaks quickly. “A therapist. Psychologist. I don’t exactly know what her credentials are. She was recommended to me, but I haven’t talked to her yet.”
“You’re going to see a therapist?”
His eyes are vulnerable. “I thought you should know. What happened when Tim told me about the threat, the way I reacted—I still have some healing to do from when Annabella…”
“I get it,” I say immediately. “And I’m proud of you for taking that step. You don’t have to explain, Dylan.”
“I do,” he says fervently. “Because I didn’t realize I’d gone back into this well of pain, and that I was making shitty decisions from that place. I never should have pushed you away, and if I had the moment to do over, I would have handled it much differently. So I’m going to see someone about it because I don’t want to rely on my own self-promises. I can’t. I want you back in my life—on a permanent basis—and I need to make sure I’ve truly let go of any old crap so that I don’t fuck this up again if—you know, if my job brings more drama.”
