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He sent the message and put the device away before he broke down and called her. He ascended the three steps that led to the wraparound porch surrounding his brother’s house and knocked twice.
Wyatt pulled open the door and his gaze swept over Dean’s face. He sighed heavily. “What the hell did you do, little brother?”
Dean lifted one shoulder and sighed. “Proved that I’m a Carlisle?”
His older brother closed his eyes and groaned as he took a step to the side and held the door open wider, motioning Dean inside. “Dammit, I thought you’d be the one who wouldn’t screw everything up since Jillian is used to your bullshit.”
***
Jillian
Present Day
Ass was an understatement.
Jillian swiped the large drop from beneath her lower lid and sniffed. She curled into the corner of the couch, pulling her knees to her chest and clutching a pillow close. She made a mental note to get a cat. Or a dog. Anything furry that could handle being her emotional support.
For the first time in a very long time she was lonely. Not just alone, but lonely. Alone was something she could handle, something she sometimes craved. Alone was okay because at any second she could reach out to Dean or Angela and the dark fingers of loneliness would recede. But lonely brought back every moment of her childhood when she would sit in a room filled to capacity with people in her designer dresses and imported shoes completely ignored until one of her parents wanted to show her off to one associate or another. A vacant feeling that was her only constant companion until she met Dean.
But Angela was back in the bush with limited communication.
And Dean was…
She sighed and rested the side of her head on the back of the sofa. Dean was dealing with shit and doing it badly. Apparently he’d forgotten that she knew him better than he knew himself.
Jillian jumped up and grabbed her phone from the table where she’d left it after reading his text. Her fingers flew across the glass.
Jillian: Whatever lies you’ve been telling yourself over the past twenty years aren’t true.
She tucked the device into her pocket and paced the perimeter of the living room. “Clearly he thinks I’m an idiot.” She spoke out loud in the empty space, then covered her face with her hands. “Even a goldfish would be better than talking to myself at this point.”
Her phone dinged to life and she grabbed it from the table.
Dean: Do you have any idea how annoying it is when you read my mind?
Her lips twitched and the tight band around her chest that barely allowed her to breathe loosened slightly.
Jillian: I’d be a really shitty best friend if I let you hide stuff from me.
She hesitated for half a second with her fingers poised over the screen, debating the merits of adding “and wife” to the message. She hit send before she fell too far down that particular rabbit hole.
Dean: I’m not mad at you, I’m mad at myself, okay? And I’m a spineless jerk for sending this by text, but I am spending the night at Wyatt’s. I have early morning clients anyway and I just… I need a minute so I don’t alienate my best friend completely with my own shit.
She stared at the screen and read the message three times, swallowing down the tears that threatened to spill over before giving up the fight. No one was here to witness her complete and utter decomposition.
Her heart fractured as she interpreted the silent implication. He was hurting and there was nothing she could do to fix it. Not yet.
With a deep breath, she grabbed the tissue box and loudly blew her nose. “I can’t keep doing this.” The whispered statement carried a heavy promise in the handful of words.
A thought wormed through to the front of her brain. She leapt off the couch, dashed into the bathroom, and splashed cold water on her face. The image reflected back at her in the mirror was most certainly not a flattering one, but certainly would do. The icy spray from the sink had worked enough magic that she didn’t look like she’d been crying mere seconds earlier.
She grabbed her purse and the keys from the hooks by the door leading to the basement and the integral garage. As the initial idea grew and blossomed, the ghost of a smile played about her lips.
Twenty years of friendship replayed through her mind and tugged at her barely held together heart. Nearly hysterical laughter bubbled up at the back of her throat. “How in the hell did I ever think I wasn’t in love with him?”
All of Dean’s favorite things immediately popped in her head and she pieced them together with memories they had shared. Within minutes it all came together and she had a perfect vision of exactly what Dean needed to feel better.
And exactly what she needed to fortify herself to confess the one thing she’d never told him. That somewhere along the way she’d fallen in love with her best friend and that she’d been denying it for at least a decade because losing him completely was far more terrifying than anything else.
