Dirty Boy by Nichole Rose

 

Epilogue

Ella

 

One Year Later

 

"Dante," I moan, writhing on the bed as an orgasm washes through me. He's between my legs, eating me like he does most mornings. It's hard to have a bad day when most of them start with orgasms and snuggles. He makes it pretty hard to have a bad day in general.

He is so good to me. He spoils me with love and attention and little gifts. No matter how many times I tell him to stop buying me stuff, he doesn't listen. He's as ridiculous as ever, and I love him so damn much for it.

"Damn, baby girl," he breathes, kissing my mound and then my belly before crawling up my body to pull me into his arms. "I don't know how you taste better every time, but you do." He presses his lips to my temple and then my shoulder. "I'm going to miss eating you for breakfast every morning."

I bite my lip to hide a smile. Two months ago, his dream came true. He was selected by the Chicago Bears in the first round of the draft. He'll be leaving for Chicago right after graduation. He thinks he's leaving me behind, but once we knew where he was going, I got to work requesting a transfer. Come fall, I'll be a sophomore at Northwestern University in Chicago with Norah.

People may think I'm crazy for requesting the transfer, but I stopped caring what people think when my dad went to prison. There were a lot of whispers the first few months I was on campus. I had to learn to shrug them off or I never would have left my dorm. Having Dante helped. Every time I wanted to hide, he reminded me that I have no reason to feel ashamed. And then he glowered and growled at everyone who even looked at me sideways.

One of his new teammates said something to me about it one day. He was only kidding, but Dante and the rest of the team reamed him hard for it. Everyone stopped looking at me crazy after that. No one else wanted to risk the wrath of the entire football team.

If people don't like that I'm following him to Chicago, too bad. The only opinions that matter are the ones of the people who make my life complete. And I know they'll be happy for me and Dante. Norah is so excited that I'll be at school with her next year. I'm pretty excited about it too. I missed her so much this year.

And I don't want to be anywhere Dante isn't.

When we first moved to campus, we were in different dorms. I hated falling asleep without him at night after spending most of the summer sharing the same bed with him. He liked it even less than I did. Within a couple months, he moved us into an apartment off-campus. It's tiny but we're together, and that's all that really matters to either of us.

He's my happy place. I'd follow him anywhere. I'm so thankful that he didn't let me push him away last summer. I can't imagine what the last year would have been like without him. He's my rock, my heart, and my safe place. When I'm in his arms, I know everything is going to be okay.

I love him more every day.

"About that," I say, trying to keep a straight face. "I've been thinking."

"It's too expensive to fly every day just to eat you for breakfast, baby girl. I already checked."

"You did?"

"Uh, yeah. The flight is only an hour and a half."

"You can't fly back here every day, Dante," I say, laughing quietly. He's crazy enough to try it. Nothing stands in his way when it comes to me. He's crazier than ever, but I wouldn't have him any other way. Even when he gets all possessive and grumpy—which is basically all the time. He hates when other men look at me. And God forbid if they try to talk to me. He shuts that down quick.

"I know," he says, a pout in his voice.

The way people treat him is so funny to me. Everyone says hi to him and knows his name, but no one ever really tries to talk to him. And he doesn't really talk to anyone either. He says that's because people think he's rude. He isn't rude though. Okay, maybe he's a little rude, especially to men who look at me, but he's not usually rude. He's just Dante.

He says whatever is on his mind and doesn't care if anyone likes it or not. He knows what he wants and those are the things he concerns himself with. Nothing else matters to him. It's, as he says, background noise. But he's also the man who will drop everything to help the people in his life who matter to him. I saw him do it over and over again in Tybee.

He's one of the best people I know. There is so much about him that I admire. He's selfless and giving, dedicated and determined. There is nothing he can't do. He doesn't share that side with very many people, but he's shared it with me. Since the very beginning, he's given all of himself to me, holding nothing back. He may be bossy and rude and grumpy, but underneath all that, he's also charming, and sweet, and outrageous.

Despite everything, I'm happier than I've ever been. I know that's because Dante spends most of his time going to outrageous lengths to keep me happy. On my birthday, he bought me a promise ring and put it on my finger in the middle of the football field. He told me he didn't know what the future held for him, but he knew I would be the biggest and best part of it, and that as soon as I was done with school, he was putting a real ring on my finger and giving me his name.

When he does, I'm telling him yes. There is nothing on this earth I want more than to be his forever. He's the best part of my life, the one person who puts me first no matter what. He's my hero. He secured that title last summer when he was willing to fight my dad, Alexei Tarasov, and the FBI for me.

I'm still not sure how I feel about my dad. Some days, I'm madder than anything. Other days, I'm sad. I haven't seen him since I packed my stuff and left Atlanta. We've spoken on the phone twice. He sends me letters too. I haven't written him back yet. What I have to say to him, I want to say face to face. I've been waiting for the right time, but I know I have to do it before we leave for Chicago. I don't want it hanging over my head or feeling unfinished when we go.

"I should have asked for unlimited use of the team plane in my contract," Dante complains. "Then I could fly back here every damn day."

"What if you don't have to fly here at all?" I ask.

"If this is you saying you're breaking up with me, the answer is no. You're not allowed."

"You can't just refuse to let me break up with you."

"Uh, yes the fuck I can," he growls. "You're wearing my ring on your finger. We're never breaking up. Why are we even talking about this? It's pissing me off."

"You're the one who brought it up," I remind him.

"Did not."

"I'm moving to Chicago with you."

"You can…wait. What?" He flips me over so I'm facing him. His baby blue eyes lock on my face. His jaw is scruffy where he hasn't shaved in a few days and his hair is wild. He's so damn beautiful though. He worries all the time about other men flirting with me, but really, I'm the one who should probably be grumpy. Women are always hitting on him. I don't worry about it though because all they manage to do is piss him off. "You're moving to Chicago?"

"Yes," I whisper, smiling at him.

"You're serious?" He narrows his eyes on me, his voice dropping to a growl, "You better not be fucking with me right now, Ella. I will spank you."

"I'm not messing with you."

"You can't quit school. You've worked too hard to give up."

"I'm not quitting. I'm transferring to Northwestern," I say, reaching up to brush his hair away from his forehead. My smile is so wide it hurts my cheeks. "I received confirmation yesterday that I was accepted. I start in the fall."

"You're not fucking with me," he says.

"No!" I cry, laughing at his shell-shocked expression. "I'm being serious."

"Fuck." He tips his head forward to rest it on my chest. I cup the back of his head, holding him there as he processes the news. His arms tighten around me, and I know he's as happy about it as I am.

"I love you," I remind him.

He lifts his head and I see the moisture in his eyes. "I was worried as hell about leaving you here," he admits, his voice rough with emotion. "It didn't feel right."

"To me either," I whisper. "I belong with you."

"Yeah, you do," he growls, leaning forward to kiss me. Which somehow ends with him inside me and me screaming his name. Not that I'm complaining. I love when he's inside me. Making love to him gets better every time. He's so filthy and sexy and perfect.

"I'm going to make you so damn happy, baby girl," he promises when we're both blissed out and snuggled up again. His heart beats a wild rhythm beneath my ear as his hands drift down my back. "You won't regret moving with me."

"I know I won't," I say, tracing little hearts over the geometric tattoo on his upper arm. His dad had one just like it before he died. Dante got it on his eighteenth birthday to honor him. I love the meaning behind it.

"I can't believe you're really coming with me," he says. The awe in his voice makes me smile. "I had nightmares about these fuckers trying to flirt with you once I'm not here. You're too beautiful, Ella."

"They don't flirt with me," I laugh, rolling my eyes.

"Yeah, because I'm here to stop them," he mutters, making me laugh again. "Men can't be trusted. They're all dogs who want in your pants."

"You're ridiculous."

"You made me that way." He runs his hand down my back and then grips my ass. "I was perfectly normal until you waved this in my face and made me wreck my truck."

"I did not!"

"Yeah, you did. But that's all right. I don't hold it against you."

I shake my head and laugh again, but I don't respond. Encouraging him only makes him even more outrageous. The more ridiculous he gets, the more I love him. I don't tell him that though. God only knows what he'd do armed with that knowledge.

"I want to do something before we leave," I say a few minutes later.

"If it's have sex on the roof, I'm in."

"We're not having sex on the roof, Dante."

"Fine, but you're going to agree one day."

I huff at him, which makes him chuckle and squeeze my ass again.

"What do you want to do, baby girl?"

"I want to go see my dad."

He's quiet for a moment, processing the news, and then I feel his lips against my crown. "I think that's a good idea," he murmurs into my hair. "It's time."

"Yeah," I whisper, "I think it is."

"I'll set it up," he promises.

"Thank you." I'm not really sure what to expect, but for the first time since he went to prison, I'm ready to face him. There's something I need to say to him before I can move on. If I don't, I think I'll always regret it.

"I want you to remember something," Dante says, tipping my head back until our eyes meet. "When you see him, I want you to remember that you aren't the one who put him there. He is. You made the only decision you could to save his life."

"I know," I whisper. It took a long time to see it that way, but I do see it that way now. Every time I was sad or cried or felt guilty, the incredible man in my arms reminded me that I wasn't at fault. He said it over and over until I believed it. He makes me see myself through his eyes.

I like what I see. That's how I know he's the one for me. Not just because he loves me, but because he makes sure I love myself too.

I may be young, but I know how rare that is. I know how rare what we have between us is too. I will never take it for granted or forget to cherish him like he deserves.

 

 

"Hi, dad," I whisper, lifting my hand in a wave as he takes a seat across from me behind the clear Plexi-glass separating inmates from visitors. He looks good. Better than I expected. His hair has a lot more gray in it now than it did a year ago and he's a little more muscular, but he still looks the same.

His eyes run across me as he reaches for the phone on his side of the glass. His expression is reserved, cautious. Mine probably matches. Even though this day has been coming for a year, my feelings for him are still all tangled in a knot. He's still my dad and I love him, but I don't know him, not really. Even though he did the right thing in the end and testified against Tarasov, he still spent most of my life as a criminal. He didn't just hurt me. He hurt a lot of people who trusted him. Ruined lives and killed people.

I forgive him for what he did, but that doesn't mean I've forgotten. It doesn't mean I'm prepared to welcome him back into my life in any major way. For now…this is all I have to offer. Maybe one day, I'll be ready to rebuild our relationship. But that day isn't today. That's not why I'm here.

"Ella," he says, his deep voice quiet. "How are you?"

"Um, I'm good. How are you?"

"I'm just fine. I spend a lot of my time helping other inmates work on their cases. It keeps me occupied."

"That's good," I whisper, relieved he's found something to fill his hours. I doubt prison is very comfortable. I've watched Locked Up before, but I don't know a whole lot about prisons. I mean, other than what I've seen on TV or read in books, and who knows if that's really what it's like?

"I'm glad you came to see me, Ella-Bell," he says.

"Me too," I whisper, my throat growing tight at the nickname he gave me when I was little. It's been a long time since he called me that. It feels like an entirely different lifetime. In a way, I guess it was. We're two totally different people now. "Um, I have news."

"What is it, sweetheart?"

"Dante was drafted."

"I heard. The Bears, right?"

"Yeah, the Chicago Bears."

"Good, solid team," he says. "They're lucky to have him."

"Um, I'm moving with him," I whisper into the receiver. "We just got confirmation a few weeks ago that Northwestern accepted me as a transfer student."

He's silent for a minute. Something drifts through his expression, but he schools it before I get a good look. I think it's a mix of pride and sorrow, though. Seeing it makes my throat ache. I promised myself I wouldn't cry today, but I feel like crying right now.

"Northwestern is a great school," he says, his voice gruff. "I'm proud of you, Ella."

"Thanks," I whisper. "I guess…I guess I came to tell you goodbye. We'll be leaving soon, and I don't know when I'll be back again."

He eyes me through the glass for a moment. "Is that all you came to tell me, Ella?"

"No," I say, shaking my head.

"Let's hear it then. I owe you that much," he says.

I take a deep breath and exhale it slowly. "I came to tell you that I forgive you," I whisper into the receiver. "I've been mad at you for a long time, and I still am. I don't understand why you did the things you did, and I don't think I ever will. You hurt people."

"I did."

"A lot of people." I swallow hard. "You hurt me."

"I know," he says, his voice soft. "I wasn't a good man, Ella-Bell. I wasn't a good father either."

Part of me wants to lie and tell him that he was, but I can tell by the look on his face that he knows it'd be a lie. He wasn't a good father. I ran because I wasn't sure what he would do to me. Because he had pounds of drugs in our house. Because I couldn't live feeling like a guilty party any longer. But that was his cross to bear, not mine.

"I'm sorry for the pain I caused you," he says. "I wish I had a reason, but the truth is…I was a selfish bastard. You and your mom always deserved better."

"I forgive you." I shift in the hard plastic chair. "I don't understand the choices you made, and I doubt I ever will, but I don't want to spend the rest of my life mad at you. Um, I still love you. You're still my dad. I just want to be able to move on."

"I love you too, kid," he whispers, and I think he actually means it. He's different, more honest than he used to be. I can't remember the last time we had an actual conversation like this. I don't think we ever have before. He's always been closed off and a little cold. As weird as it is, I think prison has been good for him.

"I'm not ready to let you back into my life," I admit. "I don't know if I ever will be ready."

"I understand," he says before sighing. He looks older suddenly, as if our conversation aged him. But he looks resigned too, as if he knew it was coming and has accepted it. "I'd still like to write you if that's okay with you. I don't expect you to write back."

"You can write me," I say.

"Thank you." He reaches out and places his hand against the glass, his palm flat. "You and Dante take care of each other and live your lives. I'll be here when you're ready. And if that day never comes, I want you to know that I love you and I'm sorry for everything I put you through. I'm proud of you, kid. Your mom would be too."

I stare at him for a minute and then place my hand against the glass over his. His fingers are a lot longer than mine. "Good luck, dad," I whisper.

"You too, sweetheart," he says before I replace the receiver.

I take one last look at him, and then I rise from my chair. Tears blur my vision as I walk away from my dad…and toward my future. He's waiting just on the other side of the doors. As soon as the automatic locks disengage and I step through, I see him.

"Baby girl," he whispers, pulling me into his arms. They close around me, sheltering me, protecting me. Even though we're in the middle of a prison, I've never felt safer or more loved. I've never felt so unburdened before either.

I let Dante hold me until my tears dry and then I take a deep breath.

"I'm ready," I whisper.

His proud smile is all the answer I need to know he's ready for our next big adventure too.