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

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

didn't know exactly what the old man had done, but if it had pushed Dylan this far, the blame

got in her car, and drove straight toward Johnny's old

had searched the place for clues not long ago, but

the cottage. The place was quiet, almost too

around to the backyard. Ryan had mentioned the doctor was buried here, and sure enough, there was a

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

little inscription the

duffache started

as fragments memory flickered just

old and plain, nothing stood out. Where could she even start looking for

searching the rooms, tapping on walls and floorboards, checking every

had already ransacked the place-probably

searched for over an hour, but came

noticed a patch of peeling paint on

to where it all

was her handwriting. Even with her memories in pieces,

to her brow as flashes of the past started

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