Page 76 of The Version You Hide

In all honesty, I’m glad Mackenzie has both of us, and Henley and Harper too. Something tells me that after today, she’s going to need all the support she can get.

“I know you are. You’re good for her Dylan. Even if she doesn’t know it yet.”

“Yeah,” I say softly.

But all I can think about is how wrong Kristen’s got it.

Mackenzie is the one that’s good for me.

Chapter 23

MACKENZIE

I can hear the ocean. The turbulent crashing of waves. But that’s not the only thing that overloads my senses as my eyelids flutter open.

My fingers twitch against the ball of fur curled up against my stomach as the morning light streams from the open curtains in Dylan’s living room.

Dylan.

Memories of last night forge their way to the forefront of my mind. I hadn’t made it home last night.

I roll over, the sleeves of the too big hoodie tangled up around my wrists, emanating the scent of him. I remember the way he’d so tenderly looped it over my head, gently tugged my hair out from the hood. He’d found me on the trail as the rain beat down around us. He’d taken care of me.

Because my mother was dead.

I believed Dylan when he’d said that all my emotions were valid, but the thing is, I still don’t know what I’m supposed to feel. Right now, I just feel empty.

And hungry.

My stomach grumbles loudly as I turn onto my side. I never did get that pepperoni pizza.

Chance responds to my subtle movements, lifting his head to lick my nose. “Hey, Chance,” I whisper, throwing my arm around his warm, furry body to stroke his belly.

“Morning, sleepyhead.” Dylan’s voice travels down the hall and I slowly sit up, pushing away the soft, thick blanket that he must have covered me with last night.

I wipe the sleep from my eyes as he emerges from his bedroom, his chest bare, boardshorts hung low on his hips.

It’s not a bad view, I must admit.

“Sorry I fell asleep.” I push my hair back from my face, grimacing at the thought that I probably have an extreme case of bed hair.

“And I’m sorry my couch isn’t more comfortable,” he replies, drawing the curtains further open. I blink as bright light filters into the room, an ocean breeze wafting in as he swings opens the french doors. There’s no trace of last night’s storm except for the waves in the distance crashing a little harder than usual. “I was going to trade places and let you have my bed, but I didn’t want to risk –”

“Me freaking out and attacking you?” I interrupt, shuddering as I recall how Dylan found me at the trails.

When he’d grabbed me and held my wrists firm, all I could think about was the day that Ethan abducted me. I was terrified, but to him I must have seemed insane.

“I was going to say I didn’t want to wake you up.” He moves to the couch and sits down, careful not to crush my legs as he occupies the space beside me. He’s so close now that I can feel his warmth, catch the subtle scent of his shampoo.

“Oh.” I drop my gaze to the soft, furry canine that’s practically wormed his way onto my lap. “I’m sorry, by the way. For lashing out at you. I tend to get a little psycho from time to time.”

The laugh that follows comes out strangled, but he doesn’t reciprocate it. Instead, he lays those whiskey-coloured eyes on mine. “You have nothing to be sorry about. You acted on your instincts. You were upset.”

I nod, giving Chance a scratch behind his ear. “He grabbed me right near that trail.”

Dylan stiffens on the couch beside me. “Ethan?”

“Yeah,” I answer. A veil of concern falls over his face, a hand coming up to rub the back of his neck. A move I’ve noticed he does when he’s feeling stressed. “What’s wrong?”

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