Page 100 of The Way We Touch

She seemed a little starstruck by my ex, and I know she had a good time with Lainey. Hell, Lainey was Garrett’s date. I exhale a growl remembering how sweet Dylan was to everyone. How beautiful she was in that glittering dress, and how they all knifed her in the back.

Again, my fingers tighten on the arms of my chair.

What’s worse is knowing this is my fault. If she hadn’t gone to that event with me, she wouldn’t be in this situation. She’d be anonymous, a private citizen. Now, her family will see that photo of us on the balcony—so will her coworkers, her students.

Protective anger burns in my chest, and as soon as we touch down, as soon as the flight attendant lets me off, I hustle into the SUV I ordered before we left five hours ago.

Speeding through the night, I try calling her again.

Again it goes to voicemail.

When I finally arrive at the house, it’s after midnight. No lights are on and the doors are locked, but Garrett told me where to find the hidden key the last time we were here.

Quietly, I unlock the back door and slip off my shoes. She told me she sleeps in the guest room now. The last time we FaceTimed after one of my games, she said she moved down here for Zane’s sake.

Hesitating outside the door where I spent that entire, golden month, I tap softly. “Dylan?”

My voice feels loud in the quiet house, but no one responds.

Turning the handle, I open the door and step inside. My eyes adjust slowly, but in the dim light from the bathroom, I see her lying on the floor beside the bed. She’s curled up on her side, and a bottle of tequila is beside her. It looks like a quarter of it has been drunk, and I glance around for food, limes, salt. Even a shot glass?

I don’t see any of those things, and I know. She saw the article.

It hits me like a punch in the gut, and I bend down, hating that she’s in pain because of me.

“Dylan?” My voice is soft, and I lift her in my arms.

Her head wobbles, and she murmurs something I don’t understand.

Placing her on the bed, I dash across the hall to the kitchen to grab a bottle of water from the refrigerator. It would be great if I could get her to eat something, but I don’t know if that’s going to happen tonight.

When I return, she’s curled into a ball again, and it hits me just as hard the second time. It’s such a self-protective pose, an ache moves through my chest.

I want to be the one to keep her safe from whatever tries to hurt her. Instead, I’ve brought shame into her life.

Sitting on the side of the bed, I reach out to touch her cheek. “Dylan, babe? Will you drink some water?”

She doesn’t move, and with a sigh, I put the bottle on the nightstand. I stand and slip off my jacket. I take off my T-shirt and jeans, stripping down to my boxer briefs.

I manage to get the blankets down on one side, then I move her over to do the same on the other side. I slide into the bed behind her, wrapping my arms around her soft body and pulling her tightly against my chest.

A fist grips my lungs as I lower my mouth to her shoulder and kiss her skin. Then I inhale the soft scent of her hair, lavender and vanilla. I kiss her behind her ear, and she stirs with a little noise.

Loosening my arms, I let her shift to face me. She blinks a few times, confused, before focusing on my face.

“Is this a dream?” Her voice is rough.

“No, honey, I’m here.”

“Why?”

I swallow the knot in my throat. “Because I need you.”

Her head bows, and she seems to close in on herself. “Do you?”

“Yes, Dylan. I need you in my life more than you know.”

“Even if they’re right?”

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