Page 40 of Puck'N Enemy
Dylan lingers at the threshold for a heartbeat before he quietly shuts the door. Turning around, he gestures at me to follow him.
“Do you mind if I get some chores done?” he says when we’re back in the living room. “Then, we can talk some more.”
A soft chuckle escapes me. “We’ve got a lot of catching up to do,” I say, sinking into the couch. “A single night’s not going to enough.”
His cheeks turn red, darkening the bruises there. “So, you want to catch up and stuff, huh?”
“Obviously, Dill. I want to knoweverythingyou’ve been up to since you left me behind.”
He looks stricken and almost says something before thinking better of it. With a light shake of his head, he lowers his backpack and takes out a lumpy paper bag from its depths.
He quietly takes out bottles of pills and puts them in a medicine box.
Once he’s done, he moves toward the kitchen like it’s his second nature.
It’s only a moment before I follow him there.
Standing at the threshold, I find Dylan putting soup in a Tupperware container. He washes the pot, wipes it dry, and stows it away.
He also puts the soup in the fridge.
Just when I think he’s done, I find him grabbing a knife and starting to slice fruit! He brings out melons from the fridge and cuts them into neat cubes.
The sound of something bubbling reaches my ears, and that’s when I become aware of the pot of oatmeal on the stove.
“Do you have to do all this now?” I ask him.
He glances back at me and smirks. “Coach wakes up at five and likes his breakfast at seven. There’s no way I’m waking up that early to prepare his meals. This way, he can just heat up the food and eat without me worrying about him.”
He continues to be absorbed in his chores, allowing me to study him. My gaze slides down the soft curve of his neck and over the elegant shape of his collarbones. The sleeves of his faded black hoodie are pulled high over his arms, exposing his elbows.
Dylan hasn’t changed. Not really.
He’s still the boy who once chose to ruin his life rather than risk hurting the people he loved. He’s so damn loyal and ridiculously self-sacrificing. I knew it back then too but I didn’t know the extent to which he could go for the people he loved.
My hands curl into fists. I won’t let Pete take him away from me a second time. Iwillprotect Dylan.
“All done,” Dylan says, stepping toward me and breaking me out of my thoughts.
“Where’s your room?” I ask, my voice rougher than I wanted it to sound.
Surprise flickers through his eyes. “You want to talk in my bedroom?”
“Yeah.”
He hesitates but then, nods. “Come on,” he says, walking out of the kitchen.
He’s barely opened the door to a small room when I lightly shove him forward.
“Hey!” Dylan gasps, caught off guard as he stumbles. “What was that for?”
“I’m getting impatient,” I growl, pressing forward until his back hits a wall.
“Logan—”
He falls quiet as he realizes he’s caged between me and the wall. At once, the air around us charges like static.
“What are you doing?” he whispers, staring up at me with those emerald eyes.
