Tempted Trapped and Too Late to Run

Chapter 118

Clara hung up the phone with a decisive click. Only someone like that could see Simon as a gem.

She headed back to Dylan's bedroom, surprised to find the lights already off. For a second, she thought about slipping out and finding a spot to crash for the night. But then a gust of wind blew in from the balcony, and she realized Dylan was out there, not in bed.

Even before she got close, she caught a whiff of smoke. "Mr. Dylan, isn't smoking bad for your leg?" she asked with genuine concern. Wasn't he still recovering?

The dim glow from the garden cast long shadows, making it tough to see his face clearly. Still, she picked up on something in his eyes—a silent yearning, an unspoken wait that tugged at her heart.

Maybe visiting Shelly's grave had him feeling down.

She stood beside him, unsure of what to say. Dylan's presence was subtle, like a breeze-hard to pin down, yet unforgettable.

her eye, Clara noticed the cigarette perilously close to his fingers. "It's about to burn

distance, slowly dropping the cigarette into the ashtray.

the spot. "Is there a first aid kit?

head up to look at him because of their height difference. Dylan's Adam's apple bobbed as he attempted to pull his

know what's on your mind, but you shouldn't treat yourself like this. And about your insomnia-I'll

as she finished, he asked, "Are you this

she'd known him, Dylan had been a puzzle. He didn't seem to hate her, but he was a man of principles. As long as she didn't push boundaries, he

"Get some sleep," he said, turning back inside, flicking on the bedside

moment, realizing she'd spent quite a while in Dylan's room. But she genuinely didn't know where else to go,