River’s POV

June 2012 - 6 months later…

 

Grabbing a fist full of his preppy ass shirt, I jerk him toward me and get right in his face. “She’s mine. You don’t deserve her, you never did.”

He stares at me, unfazed, before angrily shaking me off. Then almost laughing, he says, “Is that how you see it? I see it a little differently. You filled a void I left behind, but that’s all you’ll ever be; a substitute for the real thing.”

Lunging at him, a punch him square in the jaw. He doesn’t move to hit me back, in fact he doesn’t physically engage me at all, but the pain he causes is deeper than any physical impact could have ever been.

Wiping his mouth with the back of his hand, his eyes narrow on mine. “Believe what ever the fuck you want, pretty boy. She was mine first, and she’ll always be mine. Nothing you ever say or do can change that.” Then he turns and fades into the night.

Yelling, “She’s not your anything!” I feel a tug at my arm. I open my eyes and pop up on my elbows immediately. The room is pitch black. I can’t see anything. She shifts in the bed and a flicker of a switch has me instantly squinting. The light from the lamp shines on her golden hair as she sits next to me and strokes my cheek. “Are you okay?”

Breathing heavily, I try to shake it off. It was just a dream. It wasn’t real. I will never loose her. I swallow a few times before answering. “Yeah, I’m fine.”

When I lay back down, she rests her head against mine. Settling onto the pillow, she

kisses just under my jaw. “Want to talk about it?”

“No. I can’t even remember what it was about,” I lie because I remember it well. I’ve been having these dreams almost every night for the past week, ever since I bought her engagement ring.

“You sure?”

Inhaling deeply, I push back the dread that makes its way up my throat. I don’t need to answer her. I’d rather show her I’m okay. I look over to her, she is on the left side of the bed, and I think about how much I love that we don’t care what side we fall asleep on as long as we’re together. Running my still slightly trembling hand down her back, I roll her on top of me.

A small smile quirks at the corners of her lips as she says, “Are you sure you even had a bad dream? Or did you just want to have sex in the middle of the night?” She leans her head down to my mouth and runs her nose over my stubbled jawline. I inhale her citrus scent; feeling thankful she is here with me.

I give her a small laugh and wish that were true as I brush strands of her hair out her face. “I didn’t think I had to fake a bad dream to have sex with you. But now that you mention it, I certainly like the idea. And I figure since we’re both up, why not?”

Connecting my lips with hers, I roll her to my side. Sucking on her neck, I roll my tongue along her skin as my hand glides up the inside of her thigh. Slipping my fingers inside her, a small moan escapes her lips as her body bows up, preparing for what I hope to be able to give her forever.

 

 

I had to approach the subject cautiously. I knew she had to go back there to see the place itself wasn’t a symbol of death. Yes, death had claimed her father too soon, but The Greek was the place where he enjoyed life to the fullest. It was where they both loved to be together, connected by their passion for music, concerts, and all that came with it.

I feel that before I can ask her to move forward with me in life, she has to accept her past. The fact that she refuses to go back there tells me she hasn’t. My father used to say that scars are the roadmaps to one’s soul, but her soul is beautiful and I don’t need a roadmap to find it; I am able to reach it every day that we’re together. What bothers me is what he said about scars that can’t be seen—the emotional ones. We all have them but hers are deep. Hers are from having endured a lifetime of sorrow; from being cut at such a young age. I want to be the one to help her heal those wounds. This is why I want to take her back there. It’s not only so she can see my band perform, although of course I want her to be there. It’s more for her and for the benefit of our relationship as it moves forward. But, I know I can’t help her with the scars his death left on her. I can’t even talk about him with her. I know it’s wrong and I try, I really do. I just can’t. I hate him and

can’t get past that. I can only hope that loving her enough and being there for her has already started the healing process for those open wounds.

I was reluctant at first when Xander told me he arranged for The Wilde Ones to perform at The Greek. Yes, it was definitely a great opportunity for the band to preview some of the songs from our new album, but I wasn’t sure if I could get Dahlia to go. Then I realized this was my opportunity to bring her back there and make it a happy place for her, once again. Also, if truth be told, I want her there with me to kick off this tour, especially since I’m not really into it. Trying but failing miserably at coming up with the right way to persuade her, I decided to call Grace and ask her to meet me for lunch. I thought about calling Serena since she and Dahlia talk almost every day, but decided Grace was the better choice since she knows Dahlia so well and they are so much alike.

Meeting his mother to ask for advice seems odd but feels right at the same time. Asking her to lunch, I had to put aside the he was her son because in Dahlia's eyes, Grace is like a mother to her, ever since she lost her own. I just had to forget about him and what I know and push away my feelings like I’ve done since I saw his picture at her house.

On my way to the restaurant, I stopped by Dahlia's house to check on it. She still

owns it. She’s gotten a few offers but none close to her asking price, so she’s refused them all. I don’t want to push her, but I know her refusals aren’t based on money. I think she is just having a hard time letting go of it, so I haven’t pushed her.

I arrived at Caffe Riace before Grace and asked for an outdoor table. I knew, just like Dahlia, Grace loved being outside.

So now I’m sitting outside in the late afternoon under a green umbrella wishing I hadn’t left my sunglasses in the car. I’m blinking the bright sun out of my eyes as I type out a text to Dahlia.

 

Just thought you should know how hot you looked this am in those boots I love so much. BTW not sure I’m crazy about you wearing them to meet with your first client. I love you.

Her response is immediate.