Wait for It by Mariana Zapata
I finished my food silently, meeting Dallas’s gaze from time to time as I chewed, but for the most part, I kept my attention focused on my plate and on the people hanging around the mechanic shop. The second I finished wiping my mouth off, I asked him something that had been bothering me for a while now. “Why aren’t you in the motorcycle club?”
Dallas set his elbow on the table as he shifted his body in the seat to face me, his temple propped on his closed fist. The side of his knee touched my thigh and didn’t go anywhere. “The club’s more of a legacy. Father to son kind of thing. My dad wasn’t in the MC. I told you he was a navy man.” He was watching me with those hazel eyes as he whispered and pointed in the general direction behind him. “But this is a big family at the end of the day. Look at it. They’re all here for Nana Walker, and she isn’t related by blood to anybody here.”
Huh. I guess he had a point.
“You don’t mind not being in it?”
Dallas shook his head. “I haven’t known any of these guys except my uncle and Trip my entire life. It’s different for me. I had a lot of friends in the navy. I’m not missing out on anything.”
I narrowed my eyes at him. “You ever had a motorcycle?”
He chuckled deep and shook his head. “No. I like AC just fine.”
“You got that right.” I grinned.
“Bikes aren’t really my thing.”
I was not going to give him squinty, flirting eyes, damn it. I wasn’t going to do it. I made sure to keep my eyelids normal as I asked, “Do you have a thing?”
“I have a thing. I have a big thing—” Dallas immediately closed his mouth. His ears went red.
He blinked at me, and I blinked back at him.
And we both started laughing at the same time.
“Someone’s cocky.” I cracked up.
“I didn’t mean it like that.” He chuckled in that low, loose way that sang straight into my crippled heart.
“I know. Me neither. I’m just busting your balls,” I told him, reaching over with my bad hand to touch the top of his.
His eyes met mine; we were both smiling at each other. And in that moment, it was the most connected I’d ever felt to anyone. Anyone ever.
God help me. It hit me. It hit me right then.
I was crazy in love with this motherfucker. I really, really was.
The realization had just entered my brain when a plate dropped onto the table in front of me, forcing us both to look over, shattering the moment into a dozen pieces. It was Jackson. Jackson who was already partially snarling as he pulled the chair out and dropped into it, carelessly, sloppy. I didn’t have to physically see the man next to me to know he had tensed. What I also didn’t have to witness with my own eyes was the hand that settled into the space between my shoulder blades, calming and steady. Dallas’s entire body shifted from how he’d been sitting facing me to suddenly facing forward, his attention on his brother.
“Where have you been?” was the first thing out Dallas’s mouth.
His younger brother picked up the plastic fork that had been on top of his plate of food and pecked at the portion of beans on it, his green-eyed gaze locked on Dallas. He seriously had the face of someone who had definitely been a little shit in his younger years and hadn’t outgrown that fucking attitude. “Around,” was his vague, muttered response.
The man who had been so at ease with me seconds ago, parked the elbow furthest away from me onto the table. He leaned forward, the palm on my back not moving an inch. His chest filled with a breath before he said, “I tried calling you a dozen times.”
“I know.”
I could feel Dallas’s tension skyrocket. “That’s all? You disappeared on me after the fire at Nana’s house and you can’t even answer your fucking phone?” the normally calm man growled.
I wasn’t imagining his face getting redder by the minute. It was definitely getting redder by the second, and it had nothing to do with us joking around.
Jackson stabbed his fork straight into his food, letting it stand, and glared forward. “Why do you act like you give a shit when you don’t?”
Dallas’s head cocked to the side. I could see him breathing hard; I’d never seen him react that way, but then again, siblings had this way of getting you right where it hurt. “Are you ever going to drop it? Twenty years later, you still can’t forgive me? We gotta keep talking about this?”
Oh no.
Jackson shook his head, his attention going down to the plate below him. When his attention was up again, he watched his brother as he angrily scooped food into his mouth, chewing with a mouth half open. He was trying to be an asshole. Really trying. What the hell was wrong with this man? As I looked through my peripheral vision at Dallas, I could see the muscles in the forearm resting on the table were flexed. I could see how tight his jaw was, and I hated it. This was the nicest man I’d ever met, and he lived with this stupid sense of guilt for no reason, all because of this prick in front of us.
Sensing me judging him, Jackson flicked his eyes in my direction, his expression an ornery one that drew his eyebrows low. “What? You got something to say?”
The palm between my shoulders slid up to drape over the shoulder furthest away from Dallas. He gave it a squeeze, and I knew it was a warning. The problem was I didn’t give a shit. “Yeah. You’re acting like a prick.”
Jack reared back like he was caught off guard or offended at what I’d said. “Fuck you. You don’t know me.”
Dallas squeezed my shoulder tight, his entire body going tense—more tense. “Don’t fucking talk to her like that—”
I cut him off, my gaze stuck on his brother. “Fuck you too. I’m glad I don’t know you. You’re a grown-ass man acting like a little kid.”
When Jackson dropped his fork and leaned forward onto the table, his hands grabbing hold of the sides, I didn’t flinch.
“Jackson, back up now,” Dallas growled, already shoving his chair back.
He didn’t move and neither did I.
“Jack,” Dallas repeated in that bossy voice of his, getting to his feet.
The youngest Walker didn’t move an inch, the expression on his face said that he wanted to hit me. I’d seen it on another man’s face before, and I knew it for what it was. Violence. Anger. The difference was that I wasn’t the same person I’d been before. The difference was that I cared about the person this jackass was constantly hurting. Maybe Dallas felt so guilty he wouldn’t tell it to his brother like it needed to be, but I wasn’t afraid to.
“You don’t know shit, you Mexican bitch,” the man spat, staring at me with those eyes somehow so much like Dallas’s and so different at the same time.
“Say one more fucking word, and I’m gonna beat the shit out of you.” Dallas’s voice was so low, so purred that I couldn’t catch my thoughts for a second.
But once I did, I raised an eyebrow at Jackson and tipped my chin down in an “oh really” face, my hand going to rest on Dallas’s forearm. “My brother died two years ago. I know that I would do anything to have him back in my life, and you have one in yours who loves you and puts up with your bullshit even though you don’t deserve it with the way you act, jackass. I miss mine every single day of my life, and I hope one day you don’t regret pushing yours away for something he did twenty years ago that doesn’t require forgiveness.”
The leer on his face should have warned me he was going to take his assholeness to a different level. I really should have known. But I wasn’t prepared for Jackson snorting as he dropped into the chair and leaned against the back, his expression a horrible one.
“Get the hell outta here,” Dallas told him. “Now.”
But like most younger siblings, he didn’t listen.
The younger Walker snarled. “What’d your brother do? Kill himself eating too many tacos?”
It was easy to remember when you weren’t angry that people say things they don’t mean when their feelings are hurt. It wasn’t so easy when you were a breat
By some miracle, out of the corner of my eye, I caught two big hands gripping the edge of the table, I caught a “Jack” out of Dallas’s mouth that didn’t sound human. It didn’t take a stretch of the imagination to figure that Dallas was on the verge of flipping it. It could only be that extreme love you could have for someone who had come out of the same womb as you—or been born from someone who had—that could persevere in a situation like this. I couldn’t blame him. He loved this jackoff, asshole or not.
But I’d learned over the last few years that the only person who could fight my battles was me. And even though I was sure I would later regret him not defending my honor and taking this matter into my own hands, I brushed Dallas’s forearm with the back of my burned hand before reaching over to grab a cup of something red with ice that Jackson had brought to the table. Dallas’s eyes met mine even as this sickening feeling filled my belly at his brother’s thoughtlessness.
His hands loosened a moment before I faced Jack again and tossed the liquid inside the cup at his face, watching the red go everywhere—his face, ears, neck, and shirt. His mouth dropped open like he couldn’t fucking believe it.
Good.
“He had a traumatic brain injury, you insensitive, immature asshole,” I spat out, wishing there was another cup of red liquid to throw at his stupid face again. “He slipped on some ice, fell, and hit his head. That’s how he died. There weren’t any tacos involved, you prick.”
Fuck it, I wish there was a Slushie so I could toss that at him instead.
Angrier than I’d been in a long time, the muscles in my arms and neck were tight and my stomach hurt.
“Oh, hey, Diana, let’s go see what Ginny’s doing, what do you think?” a voice asked from behind me as two hands settled on my shoulders and literally yanked me back. “I got her. Dallas, deal with him.” Trip’s voice was right by my ear.
I was mostly numb as Trip steered me through the crowd that had been watching what had happened so quickly. I didn’t like being the center of attention, but if I’d had to do it again, I would. Damn it, I wanted to do it all over again.
It wasn’t until we were halfway to the salon that my poor hand gave a dull throb, reminding me that I’d used it to grab the cup. “Damn it,” I hissed, shaking it, like that would do something to help the pain.
“You all right, honey?” he asked, looking down at my hand.
“I used the wrong hand.” I shook it again and gave that wrist a squeeze with my good hand. “Oww.” It had been getting better, but I had gripped the cup too hard.
“What the hell happened?” he asked. “One minute, I saw you sitting there with Dal, gigglin’ like a girl, and the next, you’re both standing up, you start yelling at Jackson and throw Hawaiian Punch at his face.”
“What happened is that he’s a spoiled little bitch. That’s what happened.”
Trip laughed that laugh that made me do the same. “Spoiled little bitch. Got it.”
“Dallas’s brother or not, he’s the worst. I don’t understand how two people can be so different,” I grumbled as we made it to the door of Shear Dialogue. Trip opened the door for me, and I went in first. “He’s lucky I didn’t grab a chair and go WWE on his ass.”
Trip laughed even louder.
At her station, Ginny had her back to us as she cut a client’s hair, tossing over her shoulder, “We’ll be with you in a minute!”
“It’s just me,” I called out. “And Trip.”
Over at my station, there was a woman I’d met a couple of times in the past who had worked with us before when someone went on vacation. She was a nice lady who was a stay-at-home mom who took jobs here and there. Recognizing me, she waved and I waved back. In the seat in between my station and Ginny’s was Sean. I settled for holding up a hand, and he did the same right back. According to Ginny, he was mad I had taken three weeks off work. Like I could control how quickly I healed.
Ginny didn’t reply as she kept up what she was doing. By the time she finished blow drying her customer’s hair, I had led Trip into the break room and we’d taken seats at the table. I was calm again. She took one look at me and asked, “What happened?”
“Your cousin happened,” Trip snickered as he took a sip of Pepsi.
“What did Dallas do?” she asked, confused.
“Not Dallas,” Trip replied before I could.
Her features dropped into a blank mask. “Oh. Him.”
Cradling my hand on my thigh, I leaned back on the chair and watched my boss. “I should have asked why you always made faces every time his name was brought up. Now I know.”
“He said something stupid?”
How did she know? “Uh-huh.”
Ginny shook her head before making her way to the fridge and pulling out a glass bottle of water, taking a slow drink. “It’s what he does best. I don’t think there’s a woman he’s related to he hasn’t insulted at some point or another, even Miss Pearl. What he say?”
“Something about my brother,” I told her, not in the mood to replay what the hell had come out of his mouth exactly.
She winced. “He called me a slut when I was pregnant with number two because I wasn’t married. And maybe about six years ago, he said I was an old bitch.” Ginny’s smile was grim. “Good times.”
That asshole. “Now I definitely won’t feel bad about throwing Hawaiian Punch at his face.”
Ginny howled, settling her bottle of water on the counter, which made me smirk. “What happened? Where’s Dallas?”
“At the shop,” I told her.
“My best guess is that he’s telling Jackson to fuck right off,” was Trip’s input.
“He should,” Ginny scoffed, her gaze meeting Trip’s as they exchanged a look I didn’t understand.
“What was that about?” I asked.
She was trying to be innocent, but it wasn’t working. We’d known each other too long, witnessed each other want to kill people while plastering smiles on our faces. “What?”
“That face you made at each other. What is it?”
“Nothing—”
The chime of the front door opening had, by instinct, Gin and I both glancing at the television in the corners where images of the security camera were shown. On the screen, the body I would always recognize as Dallas’s appeared.
“He’s not here looking for me,” Gin commented.
Getting to my feet, I shook off the rest of my bad mood and made my way out of the break room toward the front, leaving the two cousins inside to go over whatever little secret they were harboring between each other. When Dallas’s eyes landed on me, I was torn with what to say or how to act. He tipped his head in the direction of the door behind him and I nodded, following him outside.
The door had barely closed when he said, with his attention aimed at the sidewalk, “Diana, I’m sorry.”
Sorry? I couldn’t help but poke him in the chest, right in the center of his pecs. “What do you have to be sorry about? You didn’t do anything.”
“Jack—”
I poked him again, waiting until his gaze was drawn from the ground and landed on me. Those brown and gold eyes looking ashamed and remorseful made me feel awful. “What he does is not your fault. I’m not mad or hurt by you.”
His irises moved back and forth from one of mine to the other, as if trying to search for the truth I had just said out loud.
“I’m sorry I’m not sorry for butting into a conversation that wasn’t mine to get into, and I’m not sorry for throwing that drink on him, either,” I whispered for no real reason at all. “You don’t deserve that, and neither did I.”
That handsome, handsome face didn’t crack with the seriousness burned into every line of it. “I’m sorry for what he said,” he whispered back.
I raised my eyebrows. “You didn’t say it or m
“Why would I be?” The corners of his mouth drew up into a smile I wasn’t positive he even knew he made.
“He’s your brother. I don’t want to come between you two, but I can’t sit there and let him talk to you like that either.” I blinked. “Was everything okay after I left?”
In the blink of an eye, Dallas’s entire body language went back to an angry one. “We had some words and he left. I don’t care what he does right now, but I’ve had it.”
I couldn’t help but feel a little guilty. I didn’t want to come between his family.
He tipped his chin toward me, those pretty eyes focused on my face. “You and me are good then?” He used the same words I’d used on him so many months ago.
“We’re good, Lord Voldemort.” He made a snickering sound that had me smiling. There was something about him standing so close to me, looking down that touched me in a way I wasn’t willing to put words to. “You want to hug this out or is it against the rules? No one’s watching.” Except maybe Ginny and Trip, I realized after I said it.
Dallas was still looking down at me as his arms went around my head without another word, pulling me into his warm, tall body. My cheek found a spot between his pectorals as I wrapped my arms around the middle of his back, feeling long, hard muscles under his clothes. As much as I didn’t want to accept it or believe it, the truth was, I was in love with him. Completely. It was pointless to want to think otherwise.
And, as if he could read my mind, the arms around me tightened and he hugged me like… I wasn’t sure what. Like he’d missed me. Like he didn’t want to let me go, now or ever.
Like he felt the same thing for me that I felt for him.
Before I could stop my big mouth from running, I told him the truth bouncing around in every cell of my body. “This is nice.”