Chapter 18

eighteen

ALEX

The next morning, I looked up from the kitchen table. Dylan stopped beside the counter, dressed and ready for the day ahead.

“Hi,” he said, his voice a husky whisper.

I guessed he was as uncertain as I was about what we’d say to each other. “Good morning. You’re awake early.”

“We don’t have much time to fix the program. The sooner we start work, the sooner we’ll finish.” He took a bowl out of the cupboard and made his usual breakfast of granola, fresh fruit, and yogurt.

I wanted to make things right between us, but I’m not sure where to start. “I’m sorry about last night.”

Dylan’s hand paused above the cutlery drawer. “Does that mean you’ve changed your mind?”

I shook my head. “No, but you said a lot of things that made sense.”

“But not enough to convince you to work from another location?”

“You said it yourself—if someone wants to find me, they will. It won’t make any difference where I’m living.”

Dylan opened his mouth to say something, then stopped. “I can’t make you leave your home if you don’t want to.” He handed me a folded sheet of paper. “But I can help you to be better prepared. This is a list of the things I think you should buy or borrow. If you can’t get some of the items in Sunrise Bay, we can order them online.”

I read the first few lines and frowned. “Survival blankets, trauma kits, and guns I can understand. But cross-country skis and another four-wheeler? Isn’t that a bit extreme?”

“Nothing is extreme when you’re living in the middle of nowhere. If you can’t use your truck, you’ll need a different form of transport. While it isn’t snowing, four-wheelers will be the fastest way of traveling through the forest. Once winter hits, you can use the snowmobile in the garage.”

I rubbed my forehead. “My friend Eric has a couple of four-wheelers. I’ll ask if I can borrow one.” I studied the rest of the items on the list. “It looks as though you’re preparing for the end of the world.”

“I’m giving you the best chance of staying alive.” Dylan sat at the table and dipped his spoon into his bowl. “Can I ask you a question?”

After reading the list, I had no idea what he’d say. “Sure.”

“Why don’t you want to leave your house?”

I wrapped my hands around my coffee cup. “When I was younger, Mom and I moved around a lot. Having my own home, somewhere I can relax and be myself is important to me.”

“And you can’t feel the same way in another house?”

Only a handful of people knew about my childhood, and they were all part of my mom’s family. I didn’t talk about the worst years of my life, not even to my closest friends.

It’d be easy to tell Dylan the same story I’d told everyone else, but that felt wrong. He came here to help me with my computer program and, instead, he was caught up in something far more dangerous.

He deserved to hear the truth. All of it, no matter how hard it was for me to say. “My parents divorced when I was four years old. By the time I was thirteen, Mom and I had moved six times. Dad was a violent alcoholic. It didn’t matter where we went or how many protection orders we had, he found us.” Even now, I could hear my dad yelling at my mom, her screams as he used her as a punching bag. Mom did her best to protect me, but nothing she said or did stopped the violence.

“When I was fifteen, Dad found us at my cousin’s house. When he hit Mom, my aunt called the police. He went to prison and, while he was there, we were almost happy. But as soon as he was released, he found us.”

Sweat beaded on my forehead. “Mom was in the hospital for more than a month after he attacked her. I never saw my father again.”

Dylan touched my arm. “I’m sorry.”

I searched his face, hoping he understood how much my childhood had affected me. “My home is more than the walls around me. I spent my childhood terrified of being found. I’m tired of running. This is where I feel safe.”

“I’ll do everything I can to keep you safe,” Dylan promised. “But, at some point, we’ll need help.”

“You don’t need to stay.” The last thing I wanted was to put his life in danger. “You have a family, people who love you.”

“And you don’t? ”

A knot of longing rose in my throat. “The only family I know are on my mom’s side. She died two years ago and I haven’t kept in contact with anyone.”

“You don’t need to be related to a person to love them.” Dylan squeezed my fingers. “The smallest thing can make you appreciate someone. Take your beef casserole, for example. It not only tastes delicious, but I’m grateful you want to cook our meals. Otherwise, I’d be eating mac and cheese each night.”

I forced a smile. “I’m glad you like it.” I wanted Dylan to know how much I appreciated his friendship. How much having someone hear what I was saying meant to me. “I had a rough childhood. I always felt different, as though I was acting a role instead of living my life. Seeing my dad hit my mom changed me, and not in a good way. But I want to be a better person.”

Dylan’s hand tightened around mine. “Being yourself is all that matters. You’re kind, thoughtful, intelligent, and far too handsome. And you want to make a difference. You’re already a better person than most people will ever be.”

I looked at our linked hands. Dylan was so close that his softly spoken words whispered against my skin. Did he feel the change in the air? Did he know how close he was to making me do something I’d regret?

The smile on Dylan’s face disappeared. He cleared his throat and stood up. “I can’t go there, Alex. I need to…” He looked at the table and picked up his bowl. “…eat my breakfast. I’ll be in the office.”

And before I could say anything, he left the kitchen.

I ran my hand around the back of my neck. If I thought involving Dylan in my messy life was bad, falling in love with him was worse.