Tempted Trapped and Too Late to Run

Clara sat on the edge of the bed while he sat on the floor, close enough for comfort-like a big, lost puppy needing a little warmth.

Her hand paused for a moment, fingers threading gently through his damp hair. With her other hand, she raised the blow dryer a bit higher.

She didn't push him away. Tonight, Dylan really did seem like a stray, drenched by the rain and desperate for somewhere to belong.

After seven minutes, his hair was finally dry.

She thought he'd let go, but he didn't.

Clara unplugged the blow dryer and wound up the cord, not sure what to say next.

Should she nudge him away? He clearly needed comfort right now.

But if she didn't, they couldn't just stay like this forever.

She glanced at the wall clock-almost ten.

"Dylan, you should get some sleep."

He mumbled, "Mm," but still didn't move.

Clara ruffled his hair. "Come on, get some rest. We'll figure everything out together tomorrow."

He pressed his head gently against her waist, nuzzling her like he didn't want to let go. "Okay."

closeness made her uneasy, so she stood up a little too quickly. "Alright, off

clothes, and she was honestly surprised she'd managed

the bed, quiet and still, fast asleep. Clara walked over

charm sat on the nightstand, a silent reminder that he wasn't really okay, no matter how peaceful he

whispered, "I'll help you through

into

course, she couldn't

She waited for any sign from the family estate. But the night passed quietly; nothing

man had

city would just see her, Clara, as the Ferguson family's

old lady, maybe he'd start having

a thing. Gossip alone would

got labeled as "bad luck"

Just like that kid years ago, the one

started to get really

had used every dirty trick he had-on his own favorite

for breakfast, glancing at Dylan, looking for any sign of

woken up,

and put some food on his plate. "You're staying here

"Yeah?"

come back,