Tempted Trapped and Too Late to Run

Clara sat in Dylan's car, a knot of nerves twisting in her stomach. Ever since Jeffree's death, it felt like she was trapped in a sticky web of confusion. When the car stopped in front of a quaint little house in Palm Bay, she stayed put, mulling things over for a couple of minutes before finally asking, "Dylan, are you handling Jeffree's case yourself?"

She didn't understand why she was here tonight, especially since Jackson seemed set on keeping her under wraps. Was there something Dylan needed to ask her?

Dylan had already settled his wheelchair on the ground. He paused for a moment, absorbing her question in silence, before moving forward without a word. Clara sighed and followed him inside.

They walked to his bedroom door, and she hesitated briefly before stepping in. By the bed, a few roses stood fresh and lively, like they'd just been picked. Before she could ask about them, his phone rang.

His expression was calm, but his eyes had a dangerous edge. "I can't. I'm not coming tomorrow night," he said into the phone. Clara pieced it together-his family, the Fergusons, had a lot going on with the holidays, and as the heir, he was in the thick of it.

His calls seemed endless, stretching on for a solid half hour. Clara wasn't sure where to sit, or if she even should. Finally, after an hour, he wrapped up the last call and looked at her.

"Jeffree's situation is being taken care of by the council," he said, implying she was off the hook.

Relief washed over her, but she couldn't shake off the curiosity-why was Dylan helping her? Even in her muddled state since the amnesia, she'd noticed his constant support.

She glanced at his wheelchair, voicing the question that had lingered in her mind. "Dylan, about your legs, have you ever blamed me?"

With his personality, if he held a grudge, she doubted she'd still be around. So why was he helping her? She just couldn't figure it out.noveldrama

Dylan lowered his gaze, his wrist tense as he walked past her. She caught his soft words, "Think of it as a debt I owe you."

She hurried to catch up, pushing his wheelchair. "Since you've helped me this time, let's call it even."

He stopped, staring ahead, rubbing his temples. Clara noticed he looked worn out. "Dylan?" she asked gently.

He shook his head, took the elevator

down to the living room, and grabbed a bottle of pills from the coffee table. Clara quickly poured him aglass of warm water. Dylan reached for it, but his hand trembled, spiffing water onto his lap. His fist clenched at his side, as if he was fighting against something within.

Grabbing a napkin, Clara started dabbing at the water just as the door swung open and Eden entered. She was holding roses but dropped them when she saw Clara, petals scattering across the floor

"Clara!" Eden barked, storming over, hand raised to strike. But she froze, noticing Dylan's pale face. "Dylan, what's wrong?"

Dylan's eyes were shut, sweat pouring down his face. Clara called for Aiden, who calmly took the pill bottle, gave Dylan another dose, and then stood protectively by her side.

"Clara, since you're okay now, I'll have someone drive you home," Aiden said, gently guiding her away. She glanced back at Dylan, but he'd turned away, all she could see was his clenched hand, holding on tight.