Page 57 of Because of Dylan

And what for? A girl I barely know, but can’t stop thinking about.

I pace the small space in my office, talking to myself.

“But she was so scared.” All I could think of was keeping her safe. Taking her from harm’s way. Protecting her. I want to reach out and erase the pain I see in her eyes. And hurt whoever put it there.

“If something had happened to Tommy, I would never forgive myself.”

I can’t have someone else die because of me.

Chapter Twenty-Five

The campus is total chaos.There are people everywhere, some crying, some huddled in small groups, some hugging and some standing as if in shock. Students, police, and EMTs litter the way. I cut through the throngs of people and walk to the dorms, catching snippets of conversations here and there.

There was a shooter on campus.

The police got him.

He was at the Jane Austen building.

No one got hurt.

My phone keeps buzzing in my hand. There are messages from my father, from River and Tommy. I ignore all of them, instead rushing for the safety of my room. For the only space that’s mine, even if it’s temporary. I need to put distance between myself and the moments I shared with Dylan. I miss his touch. I miss the comfort of his presence and the care with which he held me. The time we spent together brought to light a hole in my heart. An empty space I wasn’t aware was there. And a sweet ache of longing I never imagined possible.

What is this? How could he have done so much damage to my defenses in so little time?

I make it to my room and lock the door behind me. I fall against it, my body heavy like lead. The space from the door to my bed may as well be miles away. I let my backpack drop to the floor, kick off my sneakers, stagger the few steps and fall backward into my bed. I stare at the ceiling as if it could give me answers to questions I don’t even know how to ask.

My phone buzzes again.

River: Are you okay? Where are you?

I drop the phone to my chest, squeeze my eyes shut, drag in a breath, release. Shake my hands as if the physical motion could also shake off my thoughts. Pick up the phone again.

Becca: Yes, I’m fine. I’m in my room.

My hands still tremble. I can barely type.

River: Jesus! Why didn’t you respond before?

I call her. She answers before the first ring ends.

“Where were you? I’ve been texting you for over an hour.” The worry in River’s voice is unmistakable.

“I’m sorry. I was in Maslow. Almost to my classroom when the alert went out.” I sit up, and I’m momentarily dizzy.

“I saw people from your classroom, they said you weren’t there.”

“No, I never made it inside. I was in the hall when all the doors began to close and lock.”

“Oh my God, where did you go?”

“I was … I was with Professor Dick.” I can’t still believe it myself. Did I imagine it?

“What? How?” Her voice drops to a whisper.

I lie down again. “He was in the hall too. I nearly slammed into him running up the steps to the second floor. When the lockdown message came through, he grabbed me and we ran to his office.”

“He saved you!”

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