16. Dylan

Chapter 16

Dylan

T he moment I step into the house from my run, tension grips me like a vise. The smell of freshly brewed coffee wafts from the kitchen, but it doesn't calm my nerves. My mother's voice, sharp and commanding, cuts through the space like she owns every inch of it, as if her very presence controls the air I'm breathing.

"Dylan, is that you?"

"Yeah, it's me. I just got back from my run," I call back, sliding my sneakers off and setting them by the door before heading in the direction of her voice. "Come to the kitchen, we need to talk about the wedding," she says, not even bothering to glance up from the bridal magazine she's flipping through to see I'm already here.

"I'm here."

"Oh, good. I have an update on the big day with Gideon. It's so exciting!" She smiles, but her eyes look smug. I don't know how to explain it. I just know something is up.

I feel the weight of her words drop into my stomach like a rock. My pulse quickens as I grip the back of the kitchen chair, trying to steady myself. My body goes rigid, bracing for whatever bombshell she's about to drop this time.

"What is it now?" I ask, barely able to mask the exhaustion in my voice. It feels like we've had this same conversation a thousand times—her pushing, me resisting, always circling the same issue.

"We've moved the date of the wedding," she says, flipping another page as if this change is insignificant. "It's going to be August tenth."

Her words hang in the air like a noose, tightening around my throat. I freeze, my fingers digging into the chair until my knuckles turn white. My heart drops into my stomach, leaving me breathless, like someone has just punched me in the gut.

No. She didn't just say that. She couldn't have.

"What?" My voice trembles, barely loud enough to hear over the pounding in my ears.

She lets out an exasperated sigh, as if I'm being difficult on purpose. "The wedding," she repeats, slow and deliberate, like I'm some child who can't understand simple things. "We've moved it up to August tenth."

"That's my move-in day at CSU. You know that," I tell her, barely controlling my breaths as anger surges through me.

"I didn't think it would be an issue. You've been having doubts, haven't you?"

Doubts? Is she seriously trying to rewrite history now? My throat tightens with fury, my hands trembling as I stare at her, unable to comprehend how she can be so cruel, so manipulative. Every decision I've made in the past year has led me to this moment—moving to CSU, majoring in sports medicine, and chasing my dreams. And now, she's shattering it, as if my life is just another detail to rearrange in her perfect little bridal fantasy.

"No, no, no," I mutter, shaking my head. "You didn't… You didn't actually do this. Please, tell me this is a joke."

Her gaze hardens, and she straightens her spine, that familiar superiority bleeding into every inch of her posture. "Dylan, don't be dramatic. We need you there for the wedding. It's what's important right now."

Important to who? The thought screams through my mind, but I can't find the courage to say it out loud. Instead, I stare at her, my vision blurring with a mix of rage and hurt. "You did this on purpose," I whisper, my voice trembling with accusation.

"What?" Her eyes narrow slightly, but she doesn't look shocked. There's no guilt, no remorse, just an unflinching wall of self-righteousness.

"You moved it," I continue, my voice rising, "on purpose. Because you don't support me going to CSU. You never have. You hate the idea of me leaving, of me following my own dreams."

"That's not true—"

" Yes, it is! " I shout, my voice cracking as my emotions bubble over. "You've been against this since day one! Ever since I got into CSU, you've been waiting for the chance to sabotage it. And now you've found it. Well, congratulations, Mom. You've done it."

Her face hardens, the fa?ade of calm control cracking as her eyes flash with something dangerous—something I've seen too many times before. "Dylan, you're being completely irrational. I did not sabotage anything. I moved the wedding because it makes sense. You don't need to go across the state to some overpriced school. You can get your degree here, closer to home. It's more practical—"

"Practical?" I cut her off, my voice trembling with disbelief. "You think it's practical to throw away everything I've worked for? To give up on sports medicine so I can stay here and… what? Join a sorority? Play dress-up for your perfect little fantasy life?"

Her lips press into a thin line. "There's nothing wrong with joining a sorority. It's about connections, about building a future with the right people. And maybe if you weren't so focused on chasing some unrealistic dream, you'd see that."

I can't believe what I'm hearing. My heart pounds in my chest, every word she says like a slap to the face. The air between us is thick with tension that feels like it could snap at any moment.

"This isn't about me," I choke out, my voice raw. "This is about you. It's always been about you."

For a second, the room goes still, the silence between us deafening. Her eyes flash with something unreadable—anger? Hurt? I can't tell. But she doesn't back down. She never does.

"I've had enough," I whisper, my voice barely holding together. "I can't do this anymore."

Without another word, I spin on my heel and storm upstairs. My feet pound against the hardwood floor as I rush to my room, slamming the door behind me with a force that rattles the walls. The second the door shuts, a sob catches in my throat, but I swallow it down. I refuse to cry. Not over her. Not over this.

I grab my phone, my hands shaking as I type a message to Ford and Jacob.

Me: I'm going to see Matthew. Mom's crossed the line this time. I can't stay here.

Ford's response is immediate.

Ford: What did she do? Are you okay?

Me: She just told me she moved the wedding to August 10th. Whatever she can do to sabotage me going to CSU.

Jacob isn't far behind.

Jacob: Are you serious? She actually did that?

Ford: I'd say some time away from Momzilla is a good thing. Just make sure you don't fall off the radar. We'll worry.

I toss my phone onto the bed and run a hand through my hair, pacing the room. My heart is still racing, my head spinning. This can't be real. This is my life she's messing with, my future, and she just doesn't care.

I open my closet and yank down a small duffel bag, throwing clothes into it—just the essentials. My mind flashes to Matthew. We've been texting for weeks now, ever since he moved to CSU. I scroll through the messages on my phone until I find his address, my heart thumping in my chest. We had talked about me coming to see him. He seemed excited… at least, I hope he was serious.

I text the guys again.

Me: I'm packing. Heading to Matthew's. Got his address .

Jacob: Good. Stay in touch, alright? Don't do anything too crazy.

Ford: And if he gives you any crap, we're coming for him. Don't let him mess with you.

Me: I won't. I love you two so much.

I take a deep breath, tossing a few more things into my bag. I can feel the weight of the decision I'm about to make, the way it will change everything. Sneaking out like this—it's reckless and impulsive. But staying here feels like a slow death, like being smothered by expectations that will never be my own.

Grabbing my duffel, I make my way to the window. I could just walk out but I don't want the drama or fight. I've done this before—climbed out, sneaking away for something far less important. But this time, it feels different. This time, it feels like I'm running for my life.

The tree outside my window offers an easy escape, its branches just strong enough to hold my weight. I slip out quietly, the cool night air brushing against my skin as I shimmy down the trunk. My heart is pounding, my breath coming in shallow pants, but the adrenaline keeps me moving.

By the time my feet hit the ground, I'm already in motion, my mind focused on one thing: getting as far away from here as possible.

I make it to the bus station with the birthday money I'd saved and buy a ticket to CSU. The next bus isn't for another hour, so I slump into a plastic chair in the waiting area and text the guys again.

Me: I'm on the way. Got a bus ticket.

Ford: Just keep us posted. No sleeping on a weirdo's shoulders.

The bus ride is long, and I'm exhausted, so I pull out my phone and put on a movie. Something light. A rom-com. My mind keeps drifting back to Matthew, wondering if this is a mistake. He's been supportive, but we have history. Messy history. What if this is just a game to him? What if he's with someone else right now? I shake the thought out of my head, but it lingers, gnawing at me.

By the time I arrive at CSU, the sun is starting to set. I step off the bus, and my heart thuds in my chest. Matthew's place isn't far from campus, so I walk, the duffel hitting my back with each step. When I reach his condo, I hesitate before heading up the steps to the front door. My nerves are starting to get the best of me. Taking a deep breath, I knock and wait, listening for any hint of movement inside—but there's nothing. I knock again, louder this time, but still no response.

He's not home.

I stand in front of his door, biting my lip. Should I text him? Let him know I'm here? Ford and Jacob would probably tell me to be smart about this, but I want to surprise him. That was the whole point of coming here—to show up unannounced, to be spontaneous.

I sit down on the steps and text the guys instead.

Me: I'm at his place, but he's not home yet.

Ford: Maybe just text him?

Me: Nah. I want it to be a surprise.

Jacob: Let us know when you get inside. So we know you're safe. I don't like that you're so far away and alone.

Me: It looks like it's a quiet street. I'm okay.

I sit there for what feels like an eternity. My nerves are getting worse with every passing minute. What if he's out with someone else? What if I was wrong to think this was a good idea?

Anger bubbles up in me, mixing with the anxiety. If he's out with someone else, I swear I'll kick him in the dick. And her? She won't be getting away scot-free either. I'll slap her around just because I can. The thought makes me laugh, but the laugh is bitter. I've been burned by Matthew before. Trusting him again—letting my guard down—it's a risk.

But the alternative? Staying with my mother, giving up on my dreams, letting her control every part of my life? That's no life at all.

I pull my knees to my chest, resting my head on them as I wait. The sky darkens, and my phone buzzes again.

Jacob: You okay?

Me: Yeah, just waiting.

But as the minutes tick by my mind spirals. What if he never comes back? What if this was all a joke, some twisted way to hurt me again?

I shove the thought down. No. He wouldn't do that.

Would he?

Finally, I hear footsteps approaching, and my heart leaps into my throat. I look up, and there he is, walking toward me with a bag of groceries, completely unaware that I've been sitting here for what feels like hours.

When he sees me, his eyes widen, surprise flickering across his face before it's replaced by something else. Something I can't quite read.

"Dylan?" he asks, dropping the groceries on the ground. "What… what are you doing here?"

I stand up, my knees shaky, and force a smile. "I'm sorry for just... showing up. I needed to get away. Can we talk? I didn't know where else to go."

His expression softens, and he takes a step toward me. "Yeah, of course. Come inside."