Page 37 of Falling For Us Again

“Jenna, are you with me?” He asks, his eyes searching mine with genuine concern. He turns his back, shielding me from other people.

I nod, though I don’t trust my voice to speak yet. The terror is still there, lurking beneath the surface, but with the lights on, the memories lose some of their power. I focus on Dylan’s face, his presence a balm to my frayed nerves.

“Jenna?” He squeezes my hand. “Are you with me?”

“Yes.” I manage to whisper, my voice shaky but audible.

“Good. Good.” He rubs my back in gentle motions as I try to focus on his voice.

Around us, the other participants resume their activities, the brief disruption fading as they return to their canvasesand conversations. But for me, everything has changed. The vulnerability of the moment has shifted something inside me.

“Jenna, are you okay?” Lola grabs my hand. “What happened?”

I take a slow, steady breath. “I’m sorry, Lola,” I say, my voice stronger. “I didn’t mean to cause a scene.”

Lola shakes her head. “You don’t have to apologize, just focus on breathing ok?”

I nod weakly. “I’m tired now. I want to go home.”

“I’ll drive you home,” Dylan says immediately.

For once I don’t have the energy to argue with him.

Lola hugs me, her eyes filled with concern. “Are you sure you don't want me to stay with you tonight?”

“It’s okay, Lola. I’ll just go to bed when I get home. I don't want to bother you.”

“Nonsense, you're not bothering me.”

“I know, but this is your event, and you should enjoy the rest of the evening with Brian.”

“I’ll drive her home, Lola. She’ll be fine.” Dylan steps in.

Lola sighs, hugging me again. “Alright then. Take care of yourself. I’ll come by tomorrow, okay?”

I nod.

As we step outside, the cold evening air hits me like a freight train. I rub a hand over my arms to keep the chills away, wishing I had brought a warmer coat. Dylan shrugs off his jacket and wraps it around me.

My lips part as I glance at him. “Thank you.”

He doesn't say a word.

Dylan opens the car door for me, and I slide in, grateful for the shelter from the biting wind. He gets in on the driver’s side and starts the engine, the heater humming to life. The warmth slowly spreads, but it does little to ease the chill that has settled in my bones.

We drive in silence; the only sound is the hum of the tires on the pavement and the faint buzz of the heater. I stare out the window, watching the town pass by in a blur of lights and shadows.

I steal a glance at Dylan, his profile illuminated by the streetlights as we pass. He’s focused on the road, his jaw set in a hard line. I can’t bear to look at him for too long; the intensity of my emotions is too overwhelming. I know I’m always going to carry my wounds, no matter how much time passes or how much support I have.

We arrive at my house, and Dylan pulls into the driveway. He turns off the engine and looks at me, determination etched into his features. “I’m coming in with you.”

I shake my head. “No, I’ll be fine. I just need to be alone for a bit.”

“You don't look fine Jenna. Why don’t you call me a piece of shit instead and yell at me.”

“Piece of shit,” I say, sniffling.

“It’s lacking in strength and conviction.” He touches my face, rubbing a thumb against my cheeks lightly.

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