Color of Forgiveness (51 page)

“Like I’ve been shot,” she snaps back. Dylan
tenses, his mouth dropping open a second before he sees the corner
of her mouth lift slightly. He lets out a shaky breath.

“I’m so sorry,” Myra says.

“It’s not your fault. The police were
already in here and told me what happened so I know you weren’t the
one that shot me,” she says to Myra.

Sabrina reaches her hand up to her bandaged
shoulder. “Luckily, the door slowed the bullet down so I didn’t
have to have surgery or anything. They just numbed it up and
removed the bullet. I’ll have a nice little scar as a
reminder.”

“Well, if there’s anything I can do for
you…” Myra says.

“There is one thing. Can I have a moment
alone with Dylan?”

Fuck,
Dylan thinks to himself,
wondering how he’s going to get out of this one. But before he can
say anything, Myra responds.

“Of course…” she says to Sabrina. She looks
up at Dylan, squeezing his hand. “I’ll just be out in the hallway,
okay?” With trust shining in her eyes, she lets go of his hand and
closes the door quietly behind her.

Grabbing a chair, Dylan pulls it up close to
Sabrina’s bed and sits down. Exhaling loudly, he drags a hand
through his hair. “I’m so fucking sorry, Sabrina, and I’m sorry I
doubted you. If I hadn’t dragged your ass over there, none of this
shit would have happened and—”

“Stop it… just shut up, Dylan. You’re always
trying to take the blame for everything. You blamed yourself for
what happened to Mel and you’re trying to blame yourself for this.
There’s only one person that this can be blamed on and it’s that
psycho bitch that shot that gun.”

“Yeah, but—”

“No buts about it. You or Myra could have
been shot just as easily. This is not your fault.”

He nods and stares down at the blanket on
her bed. It’s quiet for a moment before Sabrina takes in a deep
breath. “I cannot believe this…” she groans, causing Dylan to look
up.

A crease forms in Dylan’s brow. “What’s
wrong?”

She raises her head slightly and stares at
him with a scrunched-up look on her face. “Was I acting like that
crazy woman?”

Dylan smirks. “A little…”

“Oh, dear God, I was,” she groans again her
head falling back against the pillow. “I must have sounded insane.
I had no idea I was coming off like that.” Her eyes meet his again.
“I just knew what I wanted, and I wasn’t afraid to go after it. You
know I’ve never had a problem with self-confidence,” she says with
a small smile.

Dylan chuckles. “True.”

“I felt like... I’m not sure how to explain
this, but like I had this sense of ownership when it came to you
for some reason. I knew we were divorced and everything, but I
somehow felt like you were still mine. I know that doesn’t make any
sense, but that’s how I felt. I just didn’t realize that I was
chasing after something that I could never have.”

He takes in a deep breath and nods.

“I just, I was so angry about everything
that had happened to me, to us. It wasn’t fair.”

“It wasn’t.”

“I wanted to, like, go back in time somehow.
Start over again. Start fresh… just me and you. Somehow find that
happiness that we lost.”

“I don’t—”

“Let me finish,” Sabrina says, raising an
eyebrow at him.

“I know you kept telling me how different
you were, and I know what happened changed the both of us, but I
just didn’t understand how much.”

“I’m not the same guy you married.”

Sabrina nods. “I see that now. I thought I
was chasing that young guy I fell in love with in high school. But
I’m not so sure he exists anymore.”

“He doesn’t.”

“I miss him.”

“I do too. I hate the fucker I am now.”

Sabrina laughs and Dylan grins back at her.
He watches her face grow serious. “You really love her, don’t
you?”

He pulls in a deep breath. “Yeah… I do.”

She stares down at her hands in her lap.
“The way you were back at her house, how you looked at her… I’ve
never seen you like that before.” She looks up at Dylan, tears in
her eyes. “She’s a really lucky girl.”

“You know I’ll always care about you,
Sabrina. What we had together, that shit was special… and we made
Mel. He was, well, we did good because he was fucking amazing.”

Tears slip down her cheeks, and she quickly
wipes them away. “Yeah, he was. He was very special.”

She stares at him for a minute before
clearing her throat. “I’ll always love you, Dylan.”

She’ll always have a special place in his
heart as well. Just because their marriage ended and things didn’t
work out with them, doesn’t mean that he’s going to forget all the
good years they had together. He nods and looks back down at his
fingers fiddling with the blanket.

“We did do good making Mel,” she says. “I
miss him, so much.”

“Me too…”

“Maybe we’ll get to see him one of these
days.”

“Maybe…”

“Do you think he looks the same?”

“Yeah… I can’t imagine him any
different.”

“Me neither.”

It grows quiet again. Dylan tugs at a string
on the blanket. “I got a job offer,” she says out of the blue,
causing him to look up.

“Really? Where?”

“In New York, at an art gallery… You
wouldn’t know but mom and dad got a divorce—”

“No shit?”

“Yeah, and dad moved out there. I had
absolutely no intention of taking the job; I was going to turn it
down because…” She smirks and flips her hand in the air. “Well, you
know why but… I don’t know. I might re-consider it now.”

“New York....” He repeats nodding as his lip
turns up. “You’d do good in New York.”

“I would, wouldn’t I?” she asks smirking
back at him.

“I think you would.”

Dylan sits up straighter in his seat,
stretching his back. “How long are they going to keep you here?” he
asks.

“Just until my mom gets here... she’s on her
way.”

“How about I stay with you until she shows
up?”

“Oh, no, I’ll be fine.” Her eyes narrow as
she stares at him. “And the police are taking care of my car. I
know you were worrying about that.”

Dylan grins because that was exactly what he
was going to ask her about. He stands, rubbing the back of his neck
before he pushes the chair back against the wall. “Well, I guess
I’ll get going then. We okay, now?” he asks.

“Yeah... I promise not to stalk you anymore
or make any more threats towards your girlfriend,” she says with a
small grin.

“Good. Knock ‘em dead in New York,
okay?”

“I will.”

Dylan’s almost to the door when Sabrina
calls his name. He turns and his brows crease when he sees her
serious expression. “Someday I hope I can find someone that looks
at me the way you look at Myra.”

“You will, Sabrina, I know you will.”

She stares at him for a long moment before
she finally smiles and nods.

“Bye,” he whispers.

A tear slips down her cheek as she gives him
a small wave. When Dylan closes the door to her room, it feels like
closing the door on a chapter of his life. As he walks down the
hallway towards Myra, a strange feeling comes over him like he’s
walking towards his future with many new chapters to fill.

“Is she okay?” Myra asks her eyes wide.

“Yeah,” he says as he nods and pulls her
into his arms. “She will be.”

“Are
you
okay?” she asks as she looks
up at him, studying his face.

“I am,” he says with confidence. Things feel
right, settled… as they should be. He leans down, putting his lips
next to the shell of her ear. “I love you,” he whispers before he
pulls back and stares down into her eyes. “You’re gonna get really
fucking tired of hearing me say that because I can’t help that
shit.”

Her smile radiates. “I’ll never get tired of
hearing you say it, never.”

“Good. Because you’re gonna hear it a
lot.”

* * *

Walking hand in hand with Dylan, Myra’s
heart beats faster the closer they get to her front porch. Her eyes
fixate on the freshly scrubbed spot on the wood floor of her porch;
the spot where Sabrina lay earlier, bleeding. She looks up at the
bullet hole in the door, and her stomach lurches when she considers
again how easily that bullet could have hit Dylan, could have taken
him away from her forever. Her breaths gush rapidly in and out of
her chest while she waits on Dylan to unlock the door. For some
reason, she can’t quit staring at that bullet hole.

Dylan gets the door unlocked, but doesn’t
open it. Instead, he pulls her into his arms. “Are you sure you
want to go in there because I can go grab some clothes for you. Or
hell, I can just buy you some new clothes in Boise.”

She tries to steady her breaths. “No, I’m
okay. It’s just a little weird being here after everything that
happened.”

“Weird? It has to be fucking
terrifying.”

“Yeah… a little bit.”

“Well, let’s make this fast,” he says before
touching her lips briefly with his. He turns and opens the door,
holding it open for her.

She steps inside and freezes, unable to keep
herself from looking in the direction of the recliner. Her heart
beats erratically in her chest when she sees the rug that used to
be under her coffee table is now missing. The police must have
taken it because… She gulps, her stomach flipping, when she thinks
of it being soaked with blood… that crazy woman’s blood. How can
she ever feel comfortable in this house again?

Dylan gently turns her around, his strong
arms encircling her waist. “Don’t look over there,” he whispers.
“You okay?” A deep crease lines his forehead as he intently studies
her face. She nods and sighs softly when he leans down and peppers
her face with small kisses.

His lips move to her neck. “All right,” he
says before he kisses just underneath her ear. “Let’s get this shit
done and get the fuck out of here.” Releasing her waist, he reaches
down and grabs her hand in his, lacing their fingers together. She
doesn’t look back at the recliner. Instead, she follows him as he
tugs her up the staircase. He sits down on her bed and watches her
gather her things together.

After zipping up her suitcase, she takes in
a deep breath and looks at Dylan. “I need to go do something really
quick. Can you stay here for just a minute?”

He frowns.

She smiles. “I’ll be fine. I promise I’ll be
right back.”

He continues frowning at her but eventually
nods, clearly not happy about it. Stepping out into the hallway,
she closes the door behind her and stares intently at the door at
the end of the hallway. Her heart picks up its pace as she slowly
begins walking towards it, occasionally glancing over her shoulder.
But for once, she doesn’t have any creepy feelings. Her skin
doesn’t crawl, and there are no goose bumps on her arms.

She stops when she reaches the door and
waits for a minute, listening. Her eyes drop to the door handle
before she furtively glances over her shoulder again, looking all
around, expecting any second for someone to whisper in her ear, but
nothing happens. Tentatively, she reaches her hand out and touches
the door handle.

Her heart pounds as she pauses and glances
over her shoulder one more time. Finally, she turns the handle and
opens the door, quickly switching on the light. She frowns when she
stares around at the normal homey bedroom filled with family photos
and a patchwork quilt on the bed. It looks and feels exactly the
way it did when she was a child.

“Grampie?” she whispers, her eyes moving
around the room. “I know it was you. You saved me. You saved my
life, Grampie, and I thank you so much for it.” She holds her
breath, waiting for something, some kind of sign, something to show
her his presence, but nothing happens. “I love you,” she whispers
into the empty room. With a small smile on her face, she closes the
door.

As she walks back down the hallway, she
thinks about that voice she heard earlier whisper in her ear to
run. She can’t explain where it came from. Maybe it was her
guardian angel, or some other explanation, but in the deepest part
of her heart, she believes it was Grampie. She believes that
somehow his spirit either stayed behind or was sent back to protect
her. To alert her of the danger that was going on unknowingly below
her. Her Grampie somehow saved her and no one can tell her any
different.

* * *

Dylan glances down at Myra curled up under
his arm asleep, her head resting on his chest. His fingers play
with the ends of her hair, rubbing the soft strands between his
fingers. She feels so goddamn good, all warm and soft.

Entering the outskirts of Boise, he pulls
off at the first exit and drives to the first hotel he sees.
Turning off the ignition, he wraps his arms around Myra, gently
lifting her off his chest. “Myra?” he whispers.

Her eyes pop open.

“Sorry if I scared you. Just lay down on the
seat,” he says in a quiet voice as he gently guides her on to her
side. He rubs her back. “I’m going to go get us a room. You just
stay here and sleep, okay?”

She mumbles something unintelligible as he
pulls her hair back away from her face and over her shoulders.
Running his fingers lightly over it, he stares at her for a moment
before he gets out of the truck, locking it behind him. After
quickly reserving a room for the night, he leaves Myra in the truck
sleeping while he grabs their bags and takes them up to the
room.

Opening the passenger side of his truck, he
gently picks Myra up in his arms. Her arms slide around his neck,
her head resting against his chest as he carries her to their room.
Laying her on the bed, he tugs off her shoes. She sits up, sleepy
smiling at him as he helps her off with her coat. Grabbing his bag,
he pulls out one of his clean T-shirts and hands it to her. “You
can wear this,” he says, grinning. While she removes her clothes
and slips on his shirt, he makes quick work of his own clothes
until only his boxers remain.