Chapter 5

Dallas woke up in a sterile white room. The sharp smell of antiseptic filled her nostrils. A hospital.

Desmond was sitting in a chair by her bed, his expensive suit looking out of place against the clinical backdrop. He looked tired, his face etched with lines she hadn't seen before.

"Who do you love, Dallas?" he asked, his voice flat. "Is it me? Or is it him?"

The question was so absurd, so far removed from her new reality, that she almost laughed. They still thought this was about a choice between them. They couldn't fathom a world where she chose herself.

"We broke up, Desmond," she said, her voice raspy from disuse. "A long time ago. Remember? Who I love now is none of your business."

He stood up, his tall frame casting a long shadow over her bed. "Stay away from Antone," he warned, his voice a low growl. "He's not right for you. I want you to end whatever this is between you."

"I agree," she said, her voice calm. "He's not right for me. It's already over."

"It's all over," she added softly, more to herself than to him.

A flicker of unease crossed his face. "What does that mean?"

Before he could press her, his phone buzzed. He glanced at the screen. Chelsea. Of course.

With a final, conflicted look at Dallas, he turned and left the room to take the call. He always chose his duty.

A nurse came in a few minutes later. "Miss Cole, it's time for your follow-up examination."

Dallas slowly, painfully, pushed herself out of bed. Every movement sent a fresh wave of fire across her back. She gritted her teeth and shuffled down the hallway toward the doctor's office.

As she neared the corner, she heard voices. Antone's.

"...find the best scar removal cream in the world," he was saying to someone, his voice urgent. "I don't care what it costs. Her back... it can't be left like that."

A friend's voice responded, skeptical. "Man, why are you going to all this trouble? Is it because of Chelsea? Are you trying to make her feel less guilty?"

There was a pause. Then Antone's voice, low and laced with a familiar poison.

"Chelsea was horrified. She feels responsible. I'm doing this to put her mind at ease. I tried to take the punishment for Dallas, but you know how stubborn she is. She insisted on doing it herself."

The lie was so bald, so self-serving, it stole her breath.

"You could just make it real with her," the friend suggested. "She's clearly in love with you."

A mirthless laugh. "Don't be ridiculous. I've never had feelings for her. It was just a game to pass the time."

The pain in her back was nothing compared to the cold, dead finality of those words. Her fingers curled into her palm, her nails digging into the soft flesh until she felt the sting.

She turned to leave, to get away from his voice, from the truth she already knew but which still had the power to wound her.

But the door to the office swung open, and she was face to face with him.

Antone looked startled to see her. "Dallas! When did you get here?"

"Just now," she lied, her face a blank mask.

He held up a small, expensive-looking tube of cream. "I got this for you. For the scars."

She looked at the cream, then at his face, his handsome, lying face. "No, thank you," she said, her voice polite and distant. "The scars are a lesson I earned. I want to keep them."

His eyelid twitched. "Are you still angry? Dallas, I'm sorry about the letters. I wasn't thinking."

"It's okay," she said, her voice devoid of emotion. "I already told Desmond I'd stay away from you. I won't bother you anymore."

He looked panicked. "No, that's not what I want! Listen, give me some time. After the wedding, after things calm down, I'll make you my official girlfriend. I promise."

The promise was an insult. A cheap, meaningless trinket offered to a fool. She knew he was just trying to placate her, to keep his little "substitute doll" in line until he no longer needed her.

She didn't bother to argue. She didn't have the energy.

She just nodded, letting him believe his lies still worked on her. She would play along for a little while longer. She would wait. Soon, all of this would be over.