If You Need Me (The Toronto Terror Series)

After dinner, which to everyone’s shock Flip insists on paying for, we all make plans to stop at home to change before we hit the club. Flip has booked table service at one of our favorite spots, all hyped up about celebrating our engagement.

Willy lives only a few blocks from me, so we drop my parents at my place first.

My mom opens the door and looks expectantly at me. “Aren’t you coming up to grab an overnight bag?”

“We have to stop at my place. Dallas has clothes there,” Willy lies smoothly when I start to splutter.

“Of course he does. You two have a wonderful night. We’ll see you tomorrow.” Mom kisses me on the cheek and gives Willy’s hand a squeeze. Dad says good night and links hands with my mom, guiding her toward the building.

Willy watches them disappear inside with an unreadable expression on her face. “I really like your parents.”

“They like you too. My mom thought she was doing us a solid with the hotel room tonight,” I say.

“Yeah, I know. It sucks that we have to break her heart.” Willy sighs, but anger simmers under the surface. “The fake engagement takes this lie to a whole different level.”

“I’m sorry.” And I am, but not for the reasons she probably thinks. I’m living my dream right now, but I’m making her live her worst nightmare. And isn’t that a slap to the balls? I’m right where I want to be, and she’s the opposite. But I keep putting her into positions she can’t get out of. And I’m making us a PR nightmare. I keep tying her to me in ways that only get more difficult to untangle.

“I mean, as far as big news, our engagement definitely takes the cake,” she grumbles. “I’m sure back home everyone’s talking about it.”

“It was an attention getter.” I haven’t checked my socials, but I’d be surprised if the news hasn’t reached the reunion group.

“Oh my God.” Wills’s head drops against the back of the seat. “The shit is going to hit the fan when my moms hear about this, if they haven’t already. I should call them. Actually never mind, I need to be fully sober for that conversation.”

“I’m sorry.”

“You keep saying that, but you also keep doing things that make my life complicated, Dallas. Your apology doesn’t carry much weight.”

I didn’t consider much past adrenaline and the sweet taste of victory. Willy also has two older brothers, who will likely have things to say about her getting engaged right along with her mothers. I have no idea what any of them do and don’t know about our tumultuous history.

“I wanted to take Sean and Brooklyn down a peg,” I explain.

“Mission accomplished, I guess,” she says.

I pull into the open temporary parking spot outside her building. When I cut the engine and start to get out, she holds up her hand. “You should stay here. I’ll only be a minute.” She hops out of the car before I can argue and disappears into the building without another word.

I let my head fall back and sigh. Sometimes I wish I wasn’t so fucking impulsive.

Willy returns less than ten minutes later, wearing a royal blue dress that hugs her soft curves and strappy heels, looking like my number-one fantasy.

“Let’s do this,” she says as she slides back into the passenger seat. Her dress rides up, giving me a glimpse of creamy, bare thigh before she smooths the fabric down.

I clear my throat before I speak. “What about your overnight bag?”

She scoffs. “You’re staying in that honeymoon suite by yourself.”

“My mom will want pictures. And what about the girls? They’ll ask about it, too.”

Willy sighs. “Fuck. Fine. I’ll go back to the hotel after we put in an appearance at the club. We’ll take all the pictures you need, and then I will go back to my apartment and sleep in my bed. You can enjoy the comfort of the honeymoon suite.”

The rest of the ride is silent. As soon as we’re inside the club, Willy abandons me for the girls. She pours herself a drink, grabs Shilpa’s hand, and hits the dance floor with Hammer and Rix. Dred was with us for dinner, but she works the early shift at the library and had to bail on club night. It’s not really her scene anyway.

Roman puts his hand on my shoulder. “From a publicity perspective, I’m sure Hemi wants to murder you, but I will say, that ring is something else.”

“Definitely matches the woman.” I sip my whiskey. I may have to come back here in the morning and pick up my ride, but it’s not far from the hotel, so I’ll manage.

“So will this be a long or short engagement?” Hollis asks.

“Probably long, since I sprang it on her, and she’s a bit of a planner.” This lie tastes particularly bitter.

“Dude, how am I going to top that?” Tristan gripes.

“Top what?” I ask.

“That proposal. I’m planning to put a ring on Bea’s finger before the end of summer. But I don’t want her to think I’m only doing it because you did.” Tristan crosses his arms, his frown deepening.

“We all know you’re devoted to Rix. It’s no surprise that you’re planning to pop the question,” I assure him.

“But you did it first, so now there’s an expectation of grandeur,” he argues.

Tristan has grown so much as a person over the last ten months. I’ve known him for a lot of years, and it’s inspiring to see him work to be a better version of himself, on the ice and off.

“Rix would be happier with something less public, no?” Hollis adds.

Tristan rubs the back of his neck. “I’m just in my head about it. I want it to be perfect for her.”

“What about you?” Ash turns to Hollis. “When are you popping the question?”

“I’d like my daughter to be at least twenty-five before she gets married,” Roman says dryly.

“So technically, I can propose when she’s twenty-three, and we can have a long engagement.” Hollis gives Roman the side-eye. “When are you going to start dating?”

“When I’m retired.”

“What if the right woman comes along before then and you let her slip through your fingers because you’re too busy focusing on the end of your career?”

“Pretty sure I already found her a few years ago and lost her,” he mutters, then turns his attention to Tristan. “You could give Rix a promise ring.”

“Isn’t that a high school thing?” Tristan asks.

Flip shrugs. “At least you get a ring on her finger, so everybody knows she’s is yours.”

“This!” Tristan points at Flip. “I need all those university fuckers to know she’s off the market.” Tristan laughs at how ridiculous he sounds, but I can understand the possessive draw to seeing your ring on that finger. “Jokes aside, mostly it’s because I don’t want to spend another day of my life without her being my wife.”

“Shilps has been talking about babies lately,” Ash muses as he rubs his chin.

Everyone’s attention turns to him. “Seriously?”

“She’s thirty, and I’m thirty-one. I’ve got a few years left on my contract, but I’d be kind of down with being a stay-at-home dad, if she wants to come back to work. Right now, we’re just talking it out and doing a lot of practicing.”

“I can’t even imagine talking kids with someone right now.” Flip drains the rest of his drink. “Then again, I haven’t been in a relationship in years, so what do I know?”

Rix appears, downs a bottle of water, then grabs Tristan’s hand and pulls him onto the dance floor. Hammer does the same with Hollis.

Ash elbows me. “We should get out there, too.”

“I’ll hang back. Go have fun.” Roman tips his chin toward the action.

We weave our way through the crowd until we reach the girls, leaving Roman at the table. I’ve done this countless times, but it’s different tonight. There’s expectation in the air. I wish I’d done a lot of things differently, starting back in senior kindergarten when I pulled her ponytail standing in line, then lied and said it was Mortimer Fig, the quietest kid in our class.

Willy turns to me when I reach her side. Her hair is damp at the temples, her eyes are glassy, and her drink is mostly empty. She wraps my tie around her fist, her expression pensive. “Why do you have to be so pretty?”

“Why do you?”

She throws her head back and laughs. But there’s no humor. It’s bitter and angry and so many other things. She surprises me by clasping her hands behind my neck. The entire front of her body is pressed against the entire front of mine.

Everything goes haywire as I register her soft curves against me.

“Bet you never thought we’d be doing this, eh?” There’s a bite in her tone, but there’s sadness, too.

I wish I could erase it. Tell her the truth. I wish she’d believe me, but I know she won’t.

She’s right, though. I never thought I would be here, with her hands on me, looking so beautiful it hurts. I set one hand on her waist and give in to the urge to touch her face. I shouldn’t. It’s unfair. I’ve boxed her into a corner and allowed my truth to be turned into a lie. She believes it’s revenge, when really I’d do anything to guard her heart.

I give her a slice of honesty, though I know she won’t believe it. “You’re the only place I ever want to be, Wilhelmina.”

“I’m so mad at you.” I can’t hear the words, but I watch her perfect lips form each one.

I nod, my own smile wry. “I keep making messes for you, don’t I?”

Her eyes slide closed, and she drops her forehead to my chest. I bend to kiss the top of her head. To everyone else this looks like a moment. And it is. But not the one I wanted it to be.

Willy’s vulnerability is real in the way she’s letting me hold her. Too bad it’s because I’ve made her life a nightmare.

“I’m going to do right by you.” I know the music covers my oath.

We close down the bar. By the time I get Wills into a taxi and off to the hotel, she’s an absolute mess. I tuck her into my side as I guide her to the elevators, shielding her from prying eyes.

The last thing I want are pictures of a drunk Wills floating around on the internet for assholes to speculate over.

She stumbles through the door and melts into a heap on the floor. Her hazy gaze moves around the room, and her lips push out in a pout. She flails a hand toward the bed. “Look how nice this room is. This is supposed to be for two people who are really in love and want to spend the night boning each other’s brains out.”

“It is a nice room,” I agree. If she wasn’t totally wasted and she didn’t hate me, I’d love to be boning her brains out. I crouch in front of her and hold out a bottle of water.

She knocks it away and takes my face in her hands. Her gaze drops to my mouth and then lifts to my eyes. Her expression is sad and angry and heated. “I fucking hate you,” she whispers.

“I know. I’m sorry.” After everything I’ve done, after what I’ve put her through, I deserve to feel like my heart has been punted into a swamp full of ravenous alligators. “I’ll fix it.”

“I really want to believe you this time,” her voice cracks with emotion. “None of this is real.”

“Some of it is real, honey,” I counter.

“I can’t stop thinking about kissing you, how pretty you are. And it makes me sick,” she declares.

And then she throws up.