Tempted Trapped and Too Late to Run

"D"

She started to say something, but he suddenly pushed her away, swung open the door, and disappeared without looking back.

Clara stood there, stunned. If not for the salty taste still lingering on her lips, she might have convinced herself it was all just a dream.

She looked down at her hands, finally realizing what the feeling was.

The towel was balled up in her fist, and her chest felt so tight it was hard to breathe.

She stayed like that for hours, only coming back to herself when sunlight spilled through the windows.

When she finally went downstairs, hoping to find him and maybe smooth things over, Dylan was already gone.

Aiden was gone too. The housekeeper told her they'd both left for work early that morning.

"Ma'am, Mr. Carter actually turned down work recently just to stay here with you. But now, with Walter's 80th birthday coming up, it's a busy time for the company. If you're worried, why not give him a call?"

A call?

She didn't even have a phone. Dylan had promised to get her one, but he seemed to have forgotten about it. He hadn't brought it up again.

""

Clara was about to admit that she'd probably gone too far last night, and that Dylan was likely going to be angry for a long time.

But just then, the housekeeper handed her a phone, her face warm with a gentle smile.

"Mr. Carter made sure to leave this for you before he left this morning."

Clara took it quietly. He'd been so furious the night before, storming out and slamming the door-yet he still remembered to get her a phone.

The thought made her heart ache, sharp and deep, as if someone had stabbed her with a knife.

She scrolled through the contacts. There was only one name: Dylan.

It was a brand new phone, clearly arranged by him. Her old one was gone-too many people had that number, and Dylan wanted to make sure no one could reach her who shouldn't.

few days he's been here with you, barely leaving your side. You're very important to

gripped the phone, staring down into

understand everything, she could

were moments-small, almost invisible things that told her something was off between

thin wall between them, something neither

really

wanted to ask about it, but

seemed scared

control last night-he'd looked so

something that was swallowing him

life left in him at

of him scared

that

breakfast, she sat on the sofa, holding her phone,

a long time, then finally

I started

took a photo of herself with an open comic book and sent it, even though

just wanted an

to talk to him.

minutes went by, and he didn't

snapping a picture of

Did you

kept going-ten messages in total,

sank. Suddenly, she remembered her

her memorize it, drilling her for hours until she knew it by

took a deep breath and

had been out of it, spending his

days; it was impossible not to

home and saw Charles out there again, he

“No, sir.

he hardly eats, won't go out with the twins,

ve