Tempted Trapped and Too Late to Run

Chapter 858

Clara didn't even glance at Michael; all she could see was Dylan.

“Dylan, let's go home,” she said softly.

But he stayed where he was, unmoving. After a long, tense pause, he finally pulled her into his arms, holding her tight. "I have something important I need to take care of," he murmured.

She pulled back just enough to look him in the eye. "What could possibly be more important than me? Didn't I tell you to stop running yourself into the ground? Whatever your dad did, just leave it alone for now. Take a month off, please."

He didn't answer. He just pressed his face into her neck, his whole body radiating exhaustion and hurt.

She could feel how shaken he was.

"Dylan-"

"Clara, I'm not lying to you. You and he... you're both important to me. I have to do this. I need to find my father."

He let her go, taking a few steps away before turning back. "You want your memories back, right? Maybe if you visit your father's old house again, something will come back to you. Clara, I'll come back as soon as I find him."

She didn't argue. She could see how desperate he was, how hard he was trying to hold himself together.

He almost never got like this, and she wasn't about to leave him alone in that headspace.

"Okay. I'll wait for you. I'll go check out that place in the meantime. You have things you need to do. Just promise me-text me every day so I know you're okay, and I'll do the same. Let's not make each other wait in silence, deal?"

"Deal..."

got the word out before he turned

these years of Dylan protecting them, not a single one had ever stood up for him. Ungrateful didn't even begin

exactly what the old man had done, but if it had pushed Dylan

headed out, got in her car,

Ryan had searched the place for clues not long ago, but came up empty. Still, if Dylan said there was something there, she

cottage. The place was quiet,

around to the backyard. Ryan had mentioned the doctor was buried here, and sure enough, there was a small mound tucked away in

it, brushing aside the blades of green that had sprung up with the spring. The last time she'd

inscription the

duffache

as fragments memory

nothing stood out. Where could she even start looking for

tapping on walls and floorboards, checking every

ransacked the place-probably those people

an hour, but came up

and noticed a patch of peeling paint on the wall. There, she saw something carved faintly into the plaster.

to where it all

with her memories in pieces, she

her brow as flashes of the past started

old doctor-how gentle he always was, bringing him herbs, weeding