Master of his heart (Brielle and Max)

Sobbing uncontrollably, she clung to Dustin's arm, unable to form a single word. It felt like life was playing another cruel joke on her with the threat of a car accident. Dustin, initially as stiff as a statue, gradually softened with each of her cries, his heart aching as if it might shatter. It seemed like all the grief Emma had bottled up because of Peyton was finally bursting free.

She despised car accidents.

Dustin wrapped his free arm around her. Little Jaime, wide-eyed, tried to wipe her tears with his tiny hands. "Mommy, don't cry, please," he whispered, but her tears only flowed faster, like a faucet gone haywire.

Onlookers were moved by her distress, having never seen Emma like this before. The local leader was already discussing compensation, but Dustin wasn't interested in sticking around. He led Emma away, her hand in his, tears still streaming down her face. They passed several curious villagers on their way, each one asking, "What happened to Emma?" or "Why's Emma crying?" and "Mr. Lynch, did you upset her?"

With each encounter, Dustin patiently explained, "She just got some dust in her eyes."

Noticing Emma was barefoot, with her feet scraped and bleeding, he frowned and quickly knelt down, offering, "Hop on, I'll carry you."

Even as she lay on his back, her sobs continued. Dustin set Jaime down, grateful that he walked more steadily than most kids his age. The walk home was slow, feeling endless, with Emma's tears soaking a large patch of Dustin's suit.

stopped crying and noticed the beautiful mountains in the

stiffened, caught off guard. Emma sniffled and added, "Just thinking about you and Jaime being

family, found himself at a loss for words as tears welled up

lives, lined with flowers and greenery, as their little family moved

he

nodded, composed once more, but but

keep in touch

girlfriends." Content beko

quickly raised his hand as if to swear, "If I speak a single word to them,

his hand down. "Just say it, no

a reformed playboy's promises, picturing even the heavens growing tired

it gently,