45. Dylan

Chapter 45

Dylan

I didn't come all this way for Brock to fuck it up now.

That's the only thought running through my mind as I wake up. I sit up, staring at my hands. They're trembling slightly, though I wish they weren't.

Matthew's arms are still wrapped around me, his warmth a steady comfort even though I can feel the tension radiating off him. He hasn't said much since I told them about Brock, but I can feel every unsaid word hovering between us. His jaw is tight, his body rigid, as if he's holding himself back from exploding. Ford's sitting on the edge of the couch, his fingers tapping restlessly on his knee. I can tell he's ready to do something—anything—to make this right. Jacob though, he's the one who looks like he's about to lose it. He's pacing, running his hands through his hair, muttering under his breath. His anger is palpable, suffocating almost.

I've never seen them like this before. Not all at once. Not this furious.

And it's because of me.

"I'm okay, guys. Tonight just shook up the memory. I'll be fine," I say, my voice breaking the thick silence. It sounds smaller than I intended, but it's enough to make them all stop and look at me.

Matthew's grip tightens slightly, as if he's afraid to let go. "Dylan, you don't have to protect him. He doesn't deserve that."

I shake my head, pulling away from him gently, needing a little space. "I'm not protecting him. I just… I don't want this to turn into something bigger than it has to be."

Ford looks at me, his dark eyes searching mine. "How can you say that? After everything he did to you?"

I swallow hard, feeling the weight of their concern, their protectiveness, pressing down on me. I get it. I really do. They're angry for me. They want to make it right however they can, even if that means going after Brock. But that's not what I want. Not anymore.

"I've moved on," I whisper, more to myself than them. "I've come so far since then. I'm happy now. I'm not letting him drag me back into that nightmare."

Jacob stops pacing, his gaze sharp as he looks at me. "You don't think you should press charges? Make sure he can't do this to anyone else?"

My stomach twists at the thought. Bringing this all back to the surface, the legal mess, the public scrutiny—it would unravel everything I've worked so hard to rebuild. I just want to live my life, with them, without this shadow hanging over us.

"No," I say firmly, meeting Jacob's eyes. "I don't want to press charges. I don't want to drag this out. I've spent years putting this behind me, and I don't want to give him any more of my energy. I want him in the rearview."

"But, Dylan—" Jacob starts, but I cut him off, shaking my head.

"No. Please, listen to me. I've moved on. I've healed. It shook me seeing him again, yes, but I won't let him control my life anymore. He doesn't get to have that power."

They stare at me for a long moment, the muscles in their jaws ticking. They want justice for me. But they don't realize that this —this life I have with them—is my justice. This is my victory.

I take a deep breath, steadying myself. "I didn't come all this way to let him ruin what I have now. I didn't survive him just to live in fear of him for the rest of my life. I want to live, really live, and I want to do that with you guys. Not while dragging that weight behind me."

Matthew leans forward, resting his forehead against the back of my neck. I can feel his breath, warm against my skin, and the tension in his body starts to ease just a bit. "We just don't want him to hurt you again," he murmurs.

"He won't," I say, my voice stronger this time. "He won't. Because I'm not that girl anymore. I'm not the girl who was scared and alone and didn't know how to fight back. I've already fought my way out of that. You don't have to worry."

"But we do," Ford whispers. "We'll always worry about you."

I look around the room, at the three men who have somehow become my world, and I feel the love, the intensity of it, wash over me. It's overwhelming in the best way. They care about me so much that it makes them angry—angry at anyone who has ever hurt me, angry that they can't protect me from my past.

"I know you will," I say, trying to smile, though my heart aches a little for them. "But you can't fix this for me. It's already been fixed. It's done. And I don't want to dig it up again."

Jacob's still standing there, staring at me, his hands balled into fists at his sides. I can see the conflict in his eyes, the war between wanting to respect my wishes and wanting to protect me at all costs.

He finally lets out a long breath, his shoulders dropping as if he's letting go of some of the tension he's been holding. "I hate that this happened to you," he says, his voice rough, raw. "I hate that we didn't know. And I hate that I can't make it right."

"You are making it right," I tell him softly. "Just by being here. By loving me. That's all I need. I don't need revenge. I just need you."

There's a silence after that, thick and heavy, but it feels different this time. Not as suffocating. It feels like we're all finally on the same page, even if they're not happy about it.

Jacob runs a hand through his hair with a sigh. "If that's what you want…"

"It is," I say firmly. "I've already moved on from him. He's not worth another second of my time."

Ford lets out a slow breath, his hands running up and down my arms in a soothing motion. "We'll follow your lead, Dylan. But if he ever comes near you again—"

"He won't," I say quickly, cutting him off. "And if he does, I'll handle it. With you. But for now, I just want to forget I ever saw him."

Jacob crosses the room in a few quick strides, kneeling in front of me. His hands shake as he cups my face, his thumbs brushing softly across my cheeks. "You don't have to forget," he whispers, his voice low and tender. "But you don't have to carry this alone anymore, either."

I close my eyes for a second, leaning into his touch, letting the warmth of his hands chase away the lingering chill that's been sitting in my bones ever since I saw Brock at the game. Jacob's right. I don't have to carry this alone. I have them now, all three of them. And maybe that's what scares me the most—the fact that I'm not used to being supported like this. I'm used to being the one who has to hold everything together, pretending like nothing hurts because no one's there to catch me if I fall. But now… now I have them.

"I know," I whisper back, opening my eyes to meet his. "And I'm so lucky to have you guys."

"You're not lucky," Ford says from the couch, his voice softer now, but still filled with that intensity I've come to expect from him. "You deserve this. You deserve everything good."

I smile at him, feeling the tight knot in my chest loosen. "Thank you. All of you."

Matthew presses a kiss to the back of my neck, his lips lingering there for a moment. "We love you, Dylan. And whatever you need, we're here."

"I know," I say again, this time more certain, more grounded. "And I love you. All of you."

Jacob's hands fall from my face, but he doesn't move from his spot in front of me. "Just promise me one thing."

"What?"

"If you ever feel like it's too much, if you ever feel like you need to talk about it, or if he ever comes back into your life in any way—you'll tell us. Don't try to handle it on your own."

"I promise," I say, and I mean it. I don't have to do this alone anymore.

For the first time in what feels like forever, I feel like I can finally breathe. Brock might be part of my past, but he's not my future. My future is here, with them, and I'm not going to let anything—or anyone—take that away from me.

I lean back into Matthew's chest, closing my eyes and taking a deep breath, feeling their presence around me, solid and sure. This is where I belong. This is where I'm safe. And no one, not even Brock Johnson, can take that away from me.

I didn't come all this way for him to fuck it up now.

And he won't.