Tempted Trapped and Too Late to Run

Clara went quiet this time, her gaze fixed on the table. She sat there for what felt like ages before finally asking, "How's Aiden?"

She already knew the answer-she'd just called the hospital herself. She was only asking to change the subject.

Dylan was turning his fork and knife in his hands before he finally set them down, his whole posture heavy, as if he was carrying something he couldn't say out loud.

Then it hit her: he'd just asked her something, hadn't he? And she hadn't answered.

With Dylan, not answering was as good as saying no. He never seemed to expect good things, especially when it came to feelings.

Clara took a breath. "Dylan."

He didn't say anything, just kept his eyes lowered, looking lost.

She tried again, "Are you full?"

"Yeah."

At least he answered that.

Clara reached out, running her hand over his shirt-half the buttons were already undone. "If you're done eating, let's keep going. Just skip work today."

was taking the lead. He hesitated

checking his expression-she already knew it wouldn't be great so she just cupped

a lot like Z in one way: if things were

She slumped against the sofa, practically asleep, while Dylan-shirt barely buttoned, just his dress pants on-was carefully tending to the bandage

but she didn't even have the

her up to the bathroom for a shower, making sure her wound stayed

as he carried her to bed, she finally caved. "I

brushed a kiss against her lips. "I'm not

hadn't planned to keep

watching him move around the room. Someone knocked at the door, but she couldn't even be bothered to wonder

came back with an armful

started hanging his clothes in her already

going to Palm Bay. Looked like he was planning to move in

strange ache

organizing his stuff—and even straightened up her

from behind, her words barely more than a

really are just like him, you