F I F T E E N

DEXTER'S HEART HAD been broken many times before.

It never hurt as much as it did when Hadley showed up at his doorstep that one Friday night, her eyes holding tears that made him want to hide her from the big bad world outside. Hadley rarely cried, and it broke his heart to see her unravel like that.

Hadley always kept her emotions in check and in the rare times that she didn't, Dexter always found himself struggling. He was clueless. He had no idea how to comfort her. He had no idea how to let her know that things will be all right. He had no idea how he could possibly stand there and see her cry without breaking down himself.

But he ushered her into his house that night and let her cry. He listened as she talked about this guy who wasn't him. A guy who couldn't see how lucky he was. A guy who wouldn't break had he seen Hadley like this. A guy who wasn't worth the tears she was shedding.

Dexter wanted to kill him.

He let her talk, offering what little comfort he could, wrapping strong arms around her to remind her that he was there, right there, and he was never going to go away.

Tell you what, he told her, forget about him. Let's drink until we forget about that fucking asshole, all right? And okay, she said, all right. I'd like that. So they did. They drank, and drank, and drank. They drank until Hadley was so drunk she was cursing Josh's name, shouting words he never thought would ever slip out her mouth.

"Fuck him," Dexter said. "Really. He's an asshole. And I bet he has a tiny dick anyway."

Hadley giggled and grabbed the bottle of vodka from him. "Microscopic."

"See?" Dexter gave her a smile. His thoughts were fuzzy and the world was spinning, but she was crystal clear. She was always crystal clear. "You can do so much better."

She nodded, but began to sway forward that Dexter had to pull her back. "So much better," she agreed, almost completely unaware of how unsteady she was. "So, so, so much better."

"That's what I've been telling you."

Hadley turned her head to him. Her smile slowly disappeared. A solemn expression settled on her face and Dexter found himself mirroring it. She reached up, and Dexter held his breath as she began to trace the lines of his face with her thumb.

When she spoke, her voice was just above a murmur. "Why did I ever break up with you?"

Her touch was intoxicating and Dexter couldn't help but lean into her hand. "You tell me."

She was tracing patterns he couldn't see, searing warmth into his skin, writing runes to a spell that he couldn't snap out of. He closed his eyes and sidled closer and when her thumb ran across his lips, he felt his heart jump to his throat. His eyes snapped open to find her wistful eyes on his.

"Hadley," he breathed out, his hand closing around her wrist.

She said nothing. She kept her eyes on his and Dexter felt something in his chest stir. He didn't dare move, afraid he'd do something he'd regret. He wanted to pull away.

He couldn't.

Instead, he waited for her to move away. Like she always did. Like he was sure she would. But she surprised him by shifting closer. She swayed, and Dexter was afraid she'd fall so he reached out to steady her. Or maybe he was just looking for an excuse to hold her close.

Warning signs were going off in his head, telling him to stop before things get out of hand. She was looking at him with more honesty than he'd ever seen painted on her face. Dexter was frozen. He wanted to scramble away from his thoughts. Crawl, if he'd have to.

He couldn't.

And when she finally leaned in to brush her lips against her, everything else ceased to matter.

He pulled her closer. Closer still. He tugged at her and wrapped his arms around her like the world would fall off its axis if he didn't. Or maybe he was just afraid that she'd pull away.

Like she always did.

Like he was sure she would.

But she didn't.

She kissed him with the same fervor. She kissed him like she didn't care about anything but their touching lips, their mouths dancing to a tune only the two of them could hear, their hands tracing maps across each other's skins as the rest of the world fell away, bit by bit until Dexter forgot about everything but the girl who always seemed as clear as crystal.

He breathed her in and tasted her tears. He held her to him and let her wounds become his. He put all his hopes into that moment, tearing down the barricade he'd put around his heart to keep his feelings for her from spilling out.

"Hadley," he whispered when she began to unbutton his shirt. "Don't. You don't want this."

She shushed him with a kiss and he did his best not to kiss her back. She pulled back a little, keeping her forehead pressed against his. "You wouldn't know that."

"But I do, Had." He swallowed, reaching up to pull her hands away from his shirt. "You dumped me, remember? You don't want this. You're just—"

She kissed him again. This time, he couldn't quite resist, and his hold on her hands grew slack. "Have I ever told you," Hadley murmured, her lips still close enough for them to brush against his, "how much I wish I hadn't let you go?"

Dexter pulled back in surprise. Something in his chest burned and a part of him he never knew existed suddenly came to life. Hadley's eyes were earnest, and Dexter felt something inside him give away, so when she closed the distance once again, whatever halfhearted words he meant to say died on his throat.

It wasn't the alcohol fogging up his mind. It was her, her kisses, her touch, her scent. The happiness he felt upon hearing what she'd just told him.

I wish I hadn't let you go.

The words made him want to jump in joy.

He was drunk on her, on the overwhelming hope that filled him the moment he realized that there was hope for them still, yet he could have stopped them. He should have.

But her hands were fire and her kisses were spells and Dexter was powerless against her. He wasn't thinking straight, and he knew it was wrong, but somehow, he'd hoped she wasn't as drunk as he thought either.

He'd hoped she meant every word and every kiss and everything that the moment held for the two of them because the truth was—

She'd just made him realize that he wasn't over her. He'd never been over her. All this time, he had only been fooling himself into thinking he was all right with them being just friends. He didn't want to let himself hope they'd ever get back together, so he'd locked his feelings away; made himself believe he was over her.

Now he knew he wasn't.

I wish I hadn't let you go.

The hope that filled his heart when she said those words was too much for him to handle. He wasn't thinking straight, not really, because his feelings were all over the place, and only two things seemed crystal clear that night.

One was Hadley.

The other was that he still loved her.

* * * * *

Hadley stares at Dexter.

Her surprise is obvious. It always is. It's precisely why Dexter loves surprising her and why, ultimately, she hates surprises. It's a difficult emotion to mask.

But she wears it now, it seems, without worrying about masking it.

Dexter can feel his heart thumping against his ribcage. Looking at her hurts. Standing there in front of her hurts. Having this conversation hurts. It reminds Dexter why he's been running away from her all this time.

Letting Hadley down hurts.

He wrings his hands together. She looks so breakable that Dexter feels like one misstep could make everything come crashing down.

He doesn't know how long it took for her to finally speak. "What did you say?"

Hearing her speak hurts. Hearing her say his name hurts. He wants to cover his ears and run, as far away as possible. But he stays rooted in place, knowing he can't keep running off; that he can't keep putting this off because it's bound to happen sooner or later.

"I wasn't drunk," he tells her, his voice coming out soft and quiet without him meaning to. "I mean, I drank. But I wasn't..." He shakes his head, then, with a firmer voice, continues. "I wasn't that drunk, Hadley."

She takes a step back, blinking fast, mouth opening like she's about to say something before promptly closing it again.

Dexter waits. It takes him a moment to realize that his hands are shaking. He clasps them together and tries to ignore the guilt steadily rising over him. It's been sitting in him these past few days and now it doesn't just tug at him. It threatens to swallow him completely; to fill his chest until there's no room left for air.

The guilt is almost enough to drown out the pain.

Almost.

"That—that can't be true." Hadley shakes her head, confusion clouding over her eyes. "That can't—you couldn't have—"

"I wasn't drunk, Had." Dexter repeats. He's tired. And it hurts. He's lighting a match to burn what's left of the rickety bridge connecting them, and when all this is over—when all the words that needed to be said are said—there'll be nothing but ashes left in the distance between them.

Hadley must know this too.

Her eyes to begin to clear. She looks at him and he can't do anything but stare back, helpless, wishing he can hear her thoughts because it's killing him, this silence, and he's too tired to stop it from doing so.

Neither of them say anything for a long time. He feels no need to explain. He knows she understands how this changes everything.

The bridge is burning down and Dexter can only watch the flames slowly consuming everything that ever mattered to him and Hadley; everything they'd ever built upon in the past two years.

"If—if you weren't drunk," Hadley finally says, sounding uncertain of her own words, "then why did you—you could have stopped—we could have—"

Dexter grimaces, taking a deep breath as he shakes his head. "I tried. I really did. But you kissed me, Had. You kissed me and—"

"You could have pushed me away."

"It wasn't that easy," Dexter snaps.

Hadley looks lost. Conflicted, even.

He tries to calm himself then, in a steadier voice, he says, "You're always honest when you're drunk, Hadley. I know that. And I knew—I thought—that you never would have kissed me if you didn't—feel anything." He lets out a harsh breath. "I guess I was wrong."

"Dexter," Hadley begins, but when she opens her mouth to continue, no words come out. She bites down on her lower lip and looks away.

It hurts. Seeing her like this hurts. Knowing this is all his fault hurts.

So, finally, he finds the courage to say the words "I'm sorry." His guilt still drowns him and the bridge still burns between them. "I shouldn't have let anything happen between us. I should have known better. I just—I thought—" He shakes his head and looks away. "I don't know what I was thinking. All I know is that I sure as hell can't keep pretending it didn't happen."

* * * * *

Hadley stands unsteady. She isn't moving, but she feels as though she's swaying. Like her knees could buckle any second now. She feels woozy, her thoughts a jumble as they all try to make sense of Dexter's words.

"Why didn't you say anything? You could have said something," she tells him now, her voice coming out weak and fragile and almost desperate. "You could have told me."

"And I would have," he replies. "I would have, Had, but you never gave me the chance. What was I supposed to say? What was I supposed to do? There I was, still trying to wrap my head around the fact that we slept together while you were out there getting back together with that cheating bastard."

Hadley takes a sharp breath. "This isn't about Josh and me."

"The guy cheated on you, Hadley!" He takes a step closer. She can't help but rear back, her heart jumping to her throat when she sees the anguish in his eyes. "Josh cheated on you and you took him back and don't for one second think that he doesn't play a part in this because trust me, he does."

"That's between me and him, Dex. Don't—"

"You threw us away!"

Hadley stops breathing.

Dexter eyes are lightning, and Hadley's caught in their thunderstorm.

"Josh cheated on you and you took him back when you threw me away for what? A couple fights?"

Hadley shakes her head. "You don't understand."

"You're right." His gaze is sharp, his voice scathingly cold. "I really fucking don't."

"Dex," she says and tries to reach for him, but he steps away. She pulls back, holding her breath. Her world tilts but she tries to keep herself upright.

"Don't." There's a crack in his voice that breaks her heart. When he lifts his eyes back to hers, she sees beyond the angry bolts of lightning. Guilt sits heavy in her chest but she has no idea what to do with it.

The two of them stare at each other for what feels like forever.

And then he drops his gaze.

"I'm done," he says with a shake of his head. "I'm sorry."

"Dexter."

He doesn't look up, not even for a second. He takes one step back, then he turns around and walks away.

Hadley can only watch him go. She couldn't even bring herself to stop him.

She always knew that he was meant to walk away.

It just took him two years too long to realize it.