Tempted Trapped and Too Late to Run

Clara couldn't wrap her head around it.

She hugged him, arms around his waist. She only meant to hold him for a second, but just as she started to let go, he caught her and pulled her in closer.

For a moment, on that chilly night, it felt like they were just two people trying to keep each other warm.

Her chest felt tight, like something heavy pressing in, and no amount of comfort seemed to help.

She didn't know how long they stood like that. Eventually, she eased her grip and stepped back. "Let's go back. Try to get some sleep tonight, okay?"

He nodded and followed her to the car.

Charles, as clueless as ever, made a beeline for the front seat. When he saw Dylan lingering beside him, refusing to move to the back, Charles scowled.

"What's your problem? The front seat's for me-her brother. You can squeeze in the back with the dog."

He barely finished before Clara called out, "Charles."

Charles took a dramatic breath, then surrendered. "Fine, I'll go squeeze in the back with the dog. Dylan, you better appreciate it-I'm only doing this for my sister."

Dylan just slid into the passenger seat, saying nothing.

Clara leaned over to buckle his seatbelt. She worried he was too out of it to do it himself. Anyone would be, after getting news like that.

From where Dylan sat, he could see a few loose strands of her hair fall forward, and the way her eyes focused quietly on the task.

He hesitated, fingers frozen for a few seconds, then slowly reached up and tucked her hair gently behind her ear.

Clara froze, then quickly finished with the buckle and started the car.

When they got to Palm Bay, Clara walked ahead. But then she remembered his injured leg and doubled back, coming to stand beside him.

"Are you sure your leg's okay?"

He must've rushed out the moment he heard the news from the temple, she thought.

"I'm fine," he said.

She reached out a hand toward him. "If you were really fine, you wouldn't still be

in rehab all this time. Here-let me help."

He hesitated, but then reached out.

Except instead of just steadying himself, he took her hand and held it.

She stiffened, lips pressed together, but didn't say a word.

They walked to the bedroom, hand in hand. When he went to shower, she

automatically opened the closet to grab him a bathrobe.

That's when she noticed her old clothes hanging there, and even a school uniform from high school.

She paused, frowning. "You never washed this one?"

There were still faint marks on it.

He froze, then strode over and slammed the closet door shut. He quickly yanked open the side door, grabbed whatever was closest, and disappeared into the bathroom. noveldrama

Clara stood there, rubbing her forehead.

Why did I have to ask about that...

Dylan took forty minutes in the shower.

When he finally came out, his hair was still dripping, face pale and distant.

Clara grabbed the hairdryer and

waved him over. “Come here. I'll dry your hair. Then you need to rest-it's late. Anything else can wait till tomorrow."

He paused, then crossed the room and sat on the carpet at her feet.

Clara sat on the edge of the bed, plugged in the hairdryer, and was just about to run her fingers through his hair when he looked up at her.

His face was so guarded it was almost blank, but she could still see something deeper-like a storm hidden under the surface.

Like ice beneath the ocean.

Like a hurricane in the dark.

He tipped his head back, the marks on his collarbone obvious in the soft light.

Clara looked down at him for a few seconds, then forced herself to look away and switched on the hairdryer.

Dylan leaned forward, wrapped his arms around her waist, and closed his eyes, as if the quiet between them was the only thing keeping him to

afloat. ceping him