8

Eight

Alix

Present Day

Within thirteen minutes of entering my townhouse, I was in bed. Naked. The blanket pulled up to my neck, a bottle of wine in my hand that I rested on top of the mattress.

HGTV was playing on the television.

Muted.

Both bedside table lamps were on.

In the last several seconds, I’d played and processed my encounter with Smith and Joe.

I’d celebrated the moment internally.

It was another milestone after all.

And it had been a big one.

Now, it was time to call Rose, whose panicked texts I still hadn’t replied to.

I opened my call log, found her name, and pressed it.

“Alix, are you okay?”

I shouldn’t have waited so long to call.

I should have phoned her when I’d gotten inside my townhouse.

But I couldn’t have.

My return couldn’t have gone in that order.

I’d had to unlock the door first, then drop the keys and my bag, grab the wine, get undressed, and climb into bed.

“Yes,” I promised. “I’m fine.”

She sighed, and I could tell how relieved she was. “What the hell happened that caused you to hang up, not return my texts, and not show up to dinner?”

Dinner.

Shit, I’d forgotten all about it.

“Please apologize to Peter for me.”

I had his number.

I never planned on using it again.

“Alix, seriously, start talking.”

My stare dropped to the bed, to the empty spot that was just to the right of me.

The spot Dylan should be lying on.

He should have his shirt off, wearing a sexy pair of boxer briefs. The blanket low on his waist, his hands crossed over his abs.

He had no idea how badly I needed him to come home tonight.

Or maybe he did.

“On the way to the restaurant, I came across two men in an alley,” I confessed. “One of them needed help. I’m almost positive he was overdosing.”

“Oh God, Alix.”

“I stopped and helped them, and then I left.”

“You’re home now?”

“Yes.” I tightened my grip on the bottle, lifting it to my lips, chugging down several mouthfuls. “Ask me if I’m celebrating.”

“Are you?”

“I skipped the glass and went straight for the bottle.”

“I’m proud of you, babe.” She was silent for several seconds. “Do you want to talk about it?”

“No.” And, because I knew her so well, I added, “I’m okay, I promise.”

“How about I come over and sleep at your place tonight?”

This wasn’t the first time she’d offered to do that.

“No, I’m really all right. I’m just going to go to bed.”

“Understandable.” The concern in her voice was gone. “I’m going to call you in the morning.”

“I figured,” I said. “Good night.”

I hung up and placed the phone on the nightstand, setting the wine next to it. I then hit the screen of the tablet to turn off the lights and lifted the blanket up to my nose, rolling until I faced Dylan’s side of the bed.

I was just about to shift positions again when I heard him.

Excitement immediately filled me.

As I waited for him to come into the bedroom, my lids squeezed closed, my body tensing up with anticipation.

He was giving me what I needed.

I wondered if he knew that.

The noises got louder.

And then, slowly, I felt movement and a wave of warmth as he got into bed behind me.

“You’re here.” I took a breath.

“Yes.”

“I didn’t think you’d come.”

Guilt began to pound through my chest.

I’d left the house to go on a date.

With Peter.

Because Rose wanted me to get laid.

But she didn’t know about Dylan’s visits.

I couldn’t tell her about them either.

“Tonight was so hard,” I whispered, not knowing why those words had left my mouth. “I was on my way out and …” I paused as I felt his lips touch the top of my shoulder. “There was a man who needed my help.”

I knew why he wasn’t saying much.

I just wished he wasn’t being so quiet.

“I didn’t work on him,” I continued. “But I assessed him and I called for help and …”

The rest didn’t matter.

I’d covered the points that had been cause for celebration.

I smashed my lids together even harder as I waited for him to tell me he was proud, that I’d done a good job—things that would mean more to me than anything.

But all I got was a hug.

A long one.

One that I felt around my whole body.

He always knew what I really needed.

And an embrace was certainly it.

“Please stay,” I said softly.

There were several moments of silence before I felt movement, and he was pushing himself off the bed.

“I can’t,” was all I heard.

Some nights, he didn’t leave.

Tonight just wasn’t one.

“Dylan, I love you.”

I didn’t get a response, so I looked over my shoulder. He wasn’t in here, and the bedroom door was closed.

He was gone.

Nine

Dylan

Three Years and One Month Ago

“Hi,” Alix said as she moved across the sidewalk. She closed the gap between us and stopped when she was about a foot away.

She was still dressed in her uniform—a white button-down and khakis and large black boots.

Somehow, she made it look sexy.

“You’re here.”

She glanced behind her at the stairs she had just climbed, and then her stare slowly returned to me. “I’m a little shocked, honestly.”

I leaned my side into the brick exterior of the train station. “Why?”

She gazed up at me through her lashes.

She was shy.

That was something I’d noticed at the restaurant. I just hadn’t realized how reserved she really was.

“Well, when I called, I didn’t think you’d answer, so I just planned on leaving a message.” Her voice was soft.