Tempted Trapped and Too Late to Run

Dylan pushed open the storage room door. The light was still on. Clara was sitting on the edge of the bed, eyes closed.

A sharp pang hit his chest. "Clara?"

She opened her eyes slowly, rubbing her temples. "Hey, you're done with work?"

Dylan reached out his hand, motioning for her to come over.

She walked over and hooked her fingers through his.

He led her out. "Didn't I tell you? If someone mouths off at you, don't just take it. Give it right back."

"She didn't say anything," Clara mumbled.

They stepped into the master bedroom, all understated luxury. Clara grabbed one

of Dylan's pajama shirts and disappeared into the bathroom.

The shower started up almost immediately.

Dylan lingered outside the door. "Are you upset? Did something get to you?"

Inside, Clara stared at herself in the mirror. She barely recognized her own reflection.

She didn't answer. Instead, she pulled out that photo again.

Every time she looked at it, her head throbbed so badly she wanted to scream.

She shoved the photo away, rushed through her shower, then crawled under the covers without another word.

and kissed the back of her hand. "I've already taken care of it.

a phone," she

missing, he'd been so paranoid he'd even taken her phone

"I'll have someone

tomorrow."

her voice soft.

her for

When he came back, she was already fast asleep,

not in

sleep well either. She twisted

and

echoed in

play a game? If you can hold a squat for

"Really?"

keep time for

her forehead as she drifted deeper into the

sat nearby, a small table on the bed, catching up on work he'd ignored

today. I'll take you out. What

to the

course. Never been? I'll show

blurry-like memories

stuffed animal she'd won, sprinting

big brother got scolded too. She was

up, frustrated. "Why is coach so strict with

expression complicated, still holding the squat beside