And I thought… What’s the use of trying? Everyone I love leaves me. Everything that’s good breaks, and all hope dies eventually.
Every night before I go to sleep, I stand in front of Tessa’s photo on my bedroom wall, and a light flickers in my heart.
Love… Love is dangerous, and I don’t love Tessa. I don’t love her. I don’t.
I keep telling myself that, day after day, night after night. Maybe someday I’ll convince myself that it’s the truth.
Chapter Six
Dylan
Honestly, I don’t know what the hell’s wrong with me. Leaving my bros in my neighbors’ care, again, to go and check if Tessa is okay, even though I left her safe and sound at her place only last night.
Granted, the things Audrey said and, even worse, the things she hinted at, made my blood run cold. I feared… a lot of things. Maybe it’s because I’ve been around Dad so long, I know the signs of depression. So last night I knew that something bad had happened.
Hell, I saw the bruise on her face and the messed-up lipstick. The messed-up expression in her eyes. Not so hard to guess something was off.
Checking on her was a must for the sake of my own sanity. But what happened afterward—that feeling of protectiveness that hit me like a sledgehammer, followed by the need to enter her, fuck her hard, possess her… Make her mine.
Have her back.
Yeah, then it all got out of control. And oh, shit, was it good. My cock twitches at the memory of her sweet body, the sounds she made, the way she clutched at me, her nails scratching my back. Calling my name. Wanting me, like I dreamed she would.
Then things got out of control once again when I saw her suitcase open and packed and realized she was leaving. That was like a punch to the gut.
I rub my chest. Will she go? I told her I don’t want her to—but why would she care?
The weight on my chest increases. I can’t love her. If I do, then I’ll end up like my dad, left behind. Crushed. Destroyed.
Dammit. Like tactile memory, the feel of her body against mine triggered all the feelings I kept buried deep. It terrifies me, how much I need her.
Can’t allow this to happen again. Can’t be around her. Too risky.
Head lowered against the driving rain, I make it to the bus stop. It’s fucking cold, and I’m wet and shivering, so I walk up and down to keep warm while waiting for the bus.
That was a moronic thing to do, Dylan. Keep your dick in your pants and your head in what is important. Your brothers. Your work. Money for the rent and the expenses. Keeping Dad out of trouble.
Yeah, right. Easy.
The memory of her taste, her body, her voice has been haunting me from the moment I stepped out her door.
I catch my bus, and damn if I’m not hard all the way home, thinking about her, remembering what it felt like being inside her, touching her, holding her.
What a fucking huge mistake. As I climb off the bus and walk the rest of the way home, I decide I can keep beating myself over it forever or put my mind to other tasks and forget.
Well, when I reach home, the choice is taken out of my hands. Teo is sick once again.
This is what hell must be like, I think. It feels as if the damn floor has been ripped from under my feet. I sit by Teo’s side, listening to my neighbor, Kate, tell me how he seemed well enough when I left but later started complaining he was cold and got cranky. He has a fever, and I dip the washcloth into the small basin by the bed and replace it on his sweaty forehead.
Miles is watching us from the other side of the bed, his small face sad and a little frightened. I hook my finger, and he comes around to me. Putting an arm around his bony shoulders, I try to decide what to do. I squeeze him closer, and some of the fear fades from his face.
“He’s been sick too often,” Kate says, thermometer in hand. “You should take him to a doctor.”
“Last time I did, the doctor said it was a virus.” But he’s been sick on and off for weeks now. What should I do? “Dammit. I’ll take him.”
“I’m going with you,” Miles says, tugging on my sleeve. “Dylan, I’m going with you.”
I nod. I see he’s close to panic, something new with Miles, who’s always been a quiet and calm kid. “Okay. Go get your jacket. I’ll call a cab.”
“Charlie can drive you,” Kate says, wiping her hands on her skirt. “You should change, Dylan. You’re dripping wet.”
I wipe a hand over my face and get up to find dry clothes. Then I carefully wrap Teo in blankets and lift him from the bed.
“Let’s go.” Miles is zipping up his jacket. He follows me outside, where Charlie is already in the car, the passenger door open. I herd Miles to the back with one hand on his head. He opens the door and climbs inside, and I wait until he’s fastened his seatbelt before I climb into the front.