35

I'm covered in Noah's blood and feel completely numb. Dylan's weirdly handsome and wildly over-professional boss is back, and they're discussing something off in the distance. I don't care enough to try to eavesdrop. I'm still wrapped in Jasmin's embrace, but we're sitting on a bench just outside the bar instead of the bloodbath where Noah's body is being tucked into a black body bag.

I break out into another sob and hiccup into Jasmin's shoulder that's already covered in my tears. I can't believe he's gone. And suddenly I'm filled with rage. That motherfucker, Vork, took another person from me. When will it stop?

The red and blue lights flash and blind me when I stare in the direction of the EMTs. They're pushing the stretcher that is carrying Noah's body, and instinctively, I rush to them.

I crash into Olivia, and she holds me. "Don't do it, babe. Think of him when he was at his strongest and hold on to that memory. Not this one."

I try to tell her that I just need to look at him one last time, but words don't come out. Instead, a loud wail escapes my throat, and I scream out the pain that's been gripping my heart like a barbed wire. Jasmin comes up behind me and they both hold me until the ambulance drives away and Noah is gone.

"I can't wait to have a bunch of kids," Noah says.

Well, that came out of nowhere. I stare at him in shock, my mouth agape, and he laughs. I don't know if he's joking, but I don't think he is. The way he stares at toddlers playing at the park and how he volunteers to round up all the kids at the trailer lot to play basketball? Most would assume he's some weird pedophile. But I know better. He's too sweet. After what his father did, he can't wait to have kids of his own and show himself what a real dad is supposed to be like. I don't deserve him.

"I want to adopt," I blurt out.

"Sure, Justice. We'll adopt."

I laugh. "What makes you think we'll adopt?"

Noah leans toward me, his caramel eyes burn against the rays of the sun setting behind me. It reflects back to me in a wave of honey glaze. "If you end up being somebody else's, I'll die of grief."

My hand pushes against his chest. "Stop being dramatic."

I don't want to tell him that I agreed to be his girlfriend just two days ago because I felt bad saying no for the eighty-fifth time. He's my best friend. I don't want to be his in that way. I think he'll see that, too, and in a few days, everything will be back to normal.

Nothing went back to normal.

"Two gates, huh?"

"Can't be too safe."

"I guess not."

Jasmin and Charles exchange words, but I'm not listening. My best friend glances at me from the rearview mirror, her tired eyes searching my features, and I know she's worried. But I don't have the energy to reassure her that I'm going to be fine once the nightmares and flashbacks stop.

I didn't even bother to insist on driving like I always did whenever we made our way to my parents' ranch. I've stopped crying, but I don't have the energy required to drive some fifty miles through the blazing California desert. Jasmin and I had been staying with Olivia and Jason. Regardless of their multiple vehicles, I insisted we bring my truck. What was the point in keeping up with pretenses? Dylan already knew everything about me.

Dylan.

He's the only reason I'm even slightly okay. After everything I've been through—watching my parents brutal killings, raising my baby brother, and constantly worrying he'd be taken, to finally having one of my best friends die in my arms—Dylan's presence is unmatched. He's filled the seemingly irreparable hairline fractures to my soul with the liquid gold of his healing companionship. I'm a real life Kintsugi. He's repaired my damaged fragments in a way I never thought was capable. And I'm better for it.

It'd been eight days since Noah's death. Eight agonizing days, and Dylan never left my side. He was there when I delivered the news to Noah's mom and she clung to me, yelling his name into the abyss. He held me through nights of cold sweats and nightmares and made sure I ate and drank water instead of kicking back a bottle of my favorite tequila. He kept me on my feet when Noah was buried. And he sits next to me now, holding me, while Jasmin drives us to the ranch.

I know it isn't easy for him to watch me grieve for an ex boyfriend. But Noah was more than that. He was like family. No matter what, even after his betrayal. I knew I'd eventually speak to him again and demand a thorough explanation.

My face feels sticky, and I'm sure the folds of Dylan's shirt left lines on my cheek when I manage to peel myself away from his chest and dare a look out to where Helena and Pedro wait. Jule is between them, and my heart aches to hold him. Once the van stops and Charles opens the door, I do just that. I rush out and crush my brother. I half expected him to be tiny, but he's a giant, of course. I still can't shake off how much he's fucking grown.

"I'm sorry, Nik."

I nod and squeeze his face between my hands. "I'm just happy you're safe."

As it turns out, Dylan was right. Vork ordered his men to raid my trailer, and I don't even want to imagine what would've happened to Jule if Dylan hadn't sent for him.

"I'm happy you're all safe," Pedro says, and Helena nods in agreement.

I breathe my sniffles away and clear my throat. I guess introductions are in order.

"This is Dylan and Charles. They… helped."

I don't know how else to explain their presence. Anything else seems small in comparison. If it weren't for them, I don't think any of us would still be alive.

After a few thank you's and some awkward hugs, we all head inside.

It smells like home.

Orchids and calla lilies decorate the space, and the urge to collapse on the couch is staggering. Charles is about to light a cigarette and I glare at him. Helena would fucking kill him. He gets the hint and slumps his long body onto the couch nearest him. His back is to us, and I ignore his dejected scorn and focus on Helena as she showers Dylan with questions.

I glance around and, as if guessing what my thoughts are, Jule nudges my arm. "The girls should be back in just a few minutes. They went riding and—"

"I can't believe you brought a fucking cop! I trusted you." Piper's angry voice echoes in my head.

"Piper, wait. He hel–"

I don't get the chance to explain. Charles gets up, and as soon as Piper sees him, she rushes into his arms.

"Helped," I finish. But she isn't listening.

They're practically making out, and a semblance of understanding covers Dylan's perfect face.

"I get it now," he mouths.

I shrug. Get what?

Dylan gives me a smug smile, and my knees wiggle weakly, warning me to snap the fuck out of it before I swoon into his arms. We don't need two couples making out in the living room when there are five bedrooms in this house alone. Couples? Is that what we are?

Macy walks in and sits next to Jule at the kitchen island. She clears her throat loudly and Piper finally breaks away for air.

"You can trust me," I say before she goes nuts on me. I walk to her and grab her hand and deposit the USB onto her palm and close her fingers over it. "Always."

"He's alright," Charles says as he nods toward Dylan and the son of a bitch smiles. I mean, he really smiles. He pulls Piper into his chest and stuffs his face into the bend of her neck.

My mouth pops open. "Wow, so you aren't a heartless tinman."

"Oh, I have a heart," Charles retorts, but he isn't looking at me. He's staring at Piper and I roll my eyes.

"Okay. Go… have your moments in privacy. We'll talk later, Pi."

Helena cautiously approaches them. "If Justice brought Dylan, he"s to be trusted. She would rather die than jeopardize the safety of those she's promised to help."

Piper glances at Charles, who gives her a reassuring nod. "Okay," she whispers.

They disappear, and I sag onto the couch. Jasmin drops next to me, and I smile at her. It's a genuine one this time, I can finally feel a twinge of happiness without the remorse.

"I'm preparing your favorite, mija."

"Do you need any help in the kitchen?" Dylan offers.

I can literally feel Helena's eyes digging at the back of my head. She loves a man that can cook or one that signs himself up for tasks. In this case, both. I know she's trying to send me messages via some weird, non-existent telepathic communication, and I wave my hand at her without even turning around.

"No, mijo. I want Justice to show you around. Ask her to introduce you to Prince Charming."

I slap both my hands against my flushed face, and Jasmin practically shakes from the laughter she's struggling to keep in. When I turn, Dylan is staring at me.

Who?he mouths with raised brows.

I'm up and pulling him by the arm before Helena can divulge any more embarrassing details of my life.

"Have fun," Jasmin calls.

"Dylan, meet Prince Charming."

My horse neighs in response to my voice. He's a giant beast, black from head to hoof.

"May I call you Prince for short?"

"No, he prefers Charming."

"Of course he does."

Dylan steps forward with an outstretched hand, and I instantly tense up. "Be careful, Charming doesn't like strang–"

I don't finish my sentence because, although I'd spoken up to warn Dylan about Charming's very uncharming traits, my horse responds exceptionally well. My horse snorts softly and pushes his muzzle flat against Dylan's palm, and then he lowers his head.

"I'm not a stranger." Dylan clicks his tongue and moves to stroke Charming's massive chest and then slowly works his way to his withers. "Tell me, little fox, how long have you been riding?"

"Why do you call me that?" I ignore his question and ask one of my own instead.

"Well, besides it being your last name, it's a fierce animal. The first to use the earth's magnetic field to hunt its prey. Beyond cunning, beautiful, loyal, passionate, perfect–"

"Okay," I interrupt. "I get it, rookie."

"I don't think you do."

Dylan walks up to me and gathers my hair in his fist, and then he tugs it back so that I'm forced to look up at him. His midnight eyes light a fucking fire in me; my cheeks feel warm and I think I'm going to combust. He bends down and runs his nose along my jaw, and then he nibbles on my earlobe and pulls gently at my earring.

"Te necesito conmigo," he rasps in my ear.

My heart drums to an erratic beat, a song just for him. "I'm here."

Dylan sighs and presses his forehead to mine. "I'm not letting you go. You know that, right?"

I swallow, and I know that if I dare speak, my voice will crack, so I nod against the pressure of his upper body leaning into me.

I realize that it doesn't matter where I'm at, as long as I'm with him. Dylan is my anchor, he's what holds me level and sane. He's my drive, the current that propels me forward, the flame to my campfire. I never believed in ‘meant to be' bullshit, but he's my other half. I'm not ever letting him go. I can't. It'd be like trying to never blink, or holding my breath forever. Impossible. The human body does these things naturally. And suddenly, it hits me, like two trains heading in the opposite direction and finally colliding–I love this fucking man.

Is it too soon to be feeling this way? It's only been a couple of months, but for some reason, it feels like he's connected to me on a level beyond my understanding. Maybe my emotions are due to all the shit I've been through. My stress scale has been put through the shredder, yet Dylan's presence stabilizes me.

Dylan begins to pull away, and I grip his arms and hold him close. We haven't had sex in over a week. My mind wasn't in it, although my body responds to him on instinct. We'd slept side by side, the heat of his body kept me sound, and his heartbeat became my very own lullaby. I refused to sleep without him, but we hadn't been naked or touched one another sexually.

I breathe him in now and a heady swirl spins my senses into a tumultuous desire deep inside me. My lips lightly rub over his, and then I pepper his bottom lip with kisses. Three words sting the tip of my tongue and I have to clamp my teeth down to keep me from spilling them. It's too soon, it's too soon, it's too soon. What was it my mother had told me years ago before I ever gave a shit about boys?

When you know, you know. And don't ever let it go, she'd said.

I suck on his full top lip, but he slowly eases me away suddenly.

"Come on, fox. Dinner will be ready soon and I hear it's your favorite."

I frown. Since when is Dylan prudent and respectful? A wounded and slightly sad girl in my mind rolls her eyes at me–since he watched you bawl your eyes out for losing your ex.

"I wasn't in love with Noah," I blurt. "I mean, I did love him. But not like that."

Dylan nods. "I know."

I don't know where to look, but I refuse to meet his onyx eyes. And right when I'm about to release the words I've been biting back, my phone rings.

"Hello?"

"Good afternoon, Ms. Escamilla. I'm calling regarding the application Julius submitted, but then retracted."

I'd given Jule's school administration my number. It was about time they had one. Jule had missed a few days from school, and I wanted to make sure the excuse I made up stuck and that he wouldn't get in trouble. Days before the mess we found ourselves in, Jule was forced to stop the process of applying for early college programs that his teachers recommended. He needed parental consent and proof of parental status since he's only fourteen.

"I'm wondering if he'd like us to resubmit now that the paperwork is all in order."

"In order? What do you mean?"

The woman seems confused by my question. "The er… paperwork. Everything is complete. We received a copy of the certificate of adoption and your signature for parental consent. Would you like me to resubmit Julius's application?"

I'm fucking stunned and speechless.

"Ms. Escamilla?"

I meet Dylan's watchful gaze, and he smiles knowingly. My heart quickens and immediately I know–he made this happen.

"Yes, resubmit it. Thank you."

I slide the phone into my back pocket. "You… how?"

Dylan cocks his head to the side and palms the five o'clock shadow dusting his cheeks and chin. "I couldn't let a piece of paper get in the way of Jule getting into a good college. He's too fucking smart. And you? You've worked too hard."

Fuck. Tears rim and threaten to spill over my bottom lid, and when I blink, they stream over my cheeks. "Dylan, I don't… thank you. Seriously, just… thank you."

I collide with him, smothering my face with the front of his black cotton shirt and bawling for the ninety-eighth time this week. But this time, they're happy tears.