Chapter 23

MACKENZIE

I can hear the ocean. The turbulent crashing of waves. But that's not the only thing that overloads my senses as my eyelids flutter open.

My fingers twitch against the ball of fur curled up against my stomach as the morning light streams from the open curtains in Dylan's living room.

Dylan.

Memories of last night forge their way to the forefront of my mind. I hadn't made it home last night.

I roll over, the sleeves of the too big hoodie tangled up around my wrists, emanating the scent of him. I remember the way he'd so tenderly looped it over my head, gently tugged my hair out from the hood. He'd found me on the trail as the rain beat down around us. He'd taken care of me.

Because my mother was dead.

I believed Dylan when he'd said that all my emotions were valid, but the thing is, I still don't know what I'm supposed to feel. Right now, I just feel empty.

And hungry.

My stomach grumbles loudly as I turn onto my side. I never did get that pepperoni pizza.

Chance responds to my subtle movements, lifting his head to lick my nose. "Hey, Chance," I whisper, throwing my arm around his warm, furry body to stroke his belly.

"Morning, sleepyhead." Dylan's voice travels down the hall and I slowly sit up, pushing away the soft, thick blanket that he must have covered me with last night.

I wipe the sleep from my eyes as he emerges from his bedroom, his chest bare, boardshorts hung low on his hips.

It's not a bad view, I must admit.

"Sorry I fell asleep." I push my hair back from my face, grimacing at the thought that I probably have an extreme case of bed hair.

"And I'm sorry my couch isn't more comfortable," he replies, drawing the curtains further open. I blink as bright light filters into the room, an ocean breeze wafting in as he swings opens the french doors. There's no trace of last night's storm except for the waves in the distance crashing a little harder than usual. "I was going to trade places and let you have my bed, but I didn't want to risk –"

"Me freaking out and attacking you?" I interrupt, shuddering as I recall how Dylan found me at the trails.

When he'd grabbed me and held my wrists firm, all I could think about was the day that Ethan abducted me. I was terrified, but to him I must have seemed insane.

"I was going to say I didn't want to wake you up." He moves to the couch and sits down, careful not to crush my legs as he occupies the space beside me. He's so close now that I can feel his warmth, catch the subtle scent of his shampoo.

"Oh." I drop my gaze to the soft, furry canine that's practically wormed his way onto my lap. "I'm sorry, by the way. For lashing out at you. I tend to get a little psycho from time to time."

The laugh that follows comes out strangled, but he doesn't reciprocate it. Instead, he lays those whiskey-coloured eyes on mine. "You have nothing to be sorry about. You acted on your instincts. You were upset."

I nod, giving Chance a scratch behind his ear. "He grabbed me right near that trail."

Dylan stiffens on the couch beside me. "Ethan?"

"Yeah," I answer. A veil of concern falls over his face, a hand coming up to rub the back of his neck. A move I've noticed he does when he's feeling stressed. "What's wrong?"

He shifts uncomfortably, turning his body toward mine. "You called out his name in your sleep last night."

A sick feeling sinks in the pit of my stomach, my vulnerability reaching a whole new level not knowing what else I might have said for Dylan to hear.

As usual, I cover it with another sarcastic joke. "Typical. I haven't seen that asshole in months, and I still can't seem to keep him out of my nightmares."

Again, he doesn't laugh. His brow pinches as he chews on his bottom lip. "Do you wanna talk about it?"

I huff out a short laugh. "You sound like Kristen."

"You haven't talked to her about him?" he asks.

"Not really. I'm not really interested in being psychoanalysed by my sister."

"Fair enough," he says. "Can I ask you something though?"

"If you have to."

He hesitates a second, leading me to believe I might not like his question but the sincerity in his eyes is unmistakeable. "How did you get involved with a guy like Ethan Davis?"

I breath out a sigh as I absorb his question. "No one's ever asked me that before."

"No one? Not even Kristen?"

"No," I say, shaking my head. "I mean, she's asked me how I'm coping. She's questioned a lot about my past, but never once about how I met Ethan. I think most people just assume that I'm this bad girl that goes around looking for trouble, but that's actually the last thing I've ever wanted."

"I'm sure that's not what Kristen thinks." He reaches over to gently pat Chance, who's fallen asleep with his head resting on my thigh.

I shrug. "I don't know."

"So, how did you meet him?"

"I met him at school," I begin, my gaze roaming out the back door to the sand. "He was the new kid in town. He'd just moved into the area with his dad, and they seemed like good people. I was fifteen and he was seventeen. All my girlfriends thought he was so charming and cute. This charismatic older guy. After a few weeks he asked me to hang out after school one day. He took me to the local café and bought me a milkshake." A bitter laugh leaves me. "I'd thought he was so sweet. My friends were jealous as hell of me."

I look across to Dylan. He swallows hard, still watching me intently, awaiting my next words.

"My home life was difficult with my father's drinking. My mum was gone." Pressure mounts behind my eyes, tears threatening to spill at the mention of my mother. I push them back down. "I guess Ethan gave me the attention that I craved. I didn't know he was a bad guy. His dad was the new chief superintendent."

"A corrupt cop," Dylan guesses.

I nod. "I had no idea. I wasn't looking for trouble. I was looking for comfort. I'd thought Ethan would be my safe haven, the one to rescue me from a life of neglect. Turns out I was looking in all the wrong places. By the time I realised what was happening, I was already caught up in his web."

"Kenz." Dylan reaches up and swipes a tear from my cheek. One I didn't even realise I'd shed. "I'm sorry. You don't have to say anything else."

"I know," I tell him. "But I want to."

And that's the truth. For once in my life, it feels like talking is helping. And Dylan is easy to talk to.

"Okay."

I pause as Chance jumps from the couch and bounds out the back door, his tail wagging as he disappears down the steps and onto the beach. "I tried to break up with him. That's when the violence started. It started with threats at first. He made me do illegal things. Help him with his drug runs. He said if I told anyone I'd be going down with him. Not long after that I became his own personal punching bag."

Dylan's jaw clenches, a vein bulging in his neck that I'd never seen before. His nostrils flare, his eyes wandering over my body as I lift the hoodie up to bare my upper thigh.

"This scar? I got that when he shoved me into a wall mirror. And this one." I pull up my sleeve to reveal a purplish streak on my forearm. "When he held my arm over a stove."

"Stop." The word comes out broken as he curls an arm around my shoulder, pulling me into his chest. My first instinct is to push away from him. I'm not used to letting myself get close to people, but instead I revel in his touch, in the way his fingers comb through my hair. "I'm sorry, Kenz. I hate that you had to go through that. It isn't fair."

My eyes flit upward, taking in his glassy stare. In this light, I can see the golden flecks that streak across his irises.

I bring a palm to his chest, absorbing the thrumming of his heart beneath it. He inhales sharply as my fingers trace along the length of his collarbone before gliding upward to his neck. He swallows, pressing his forehead to mine, his chest rising and falling with every breath.

When he pulls me tighter against him with strong arms, it's all-consuming. Then the world falls away completely as his lips crush softly against mine.

This kiss isn't like the last. It's patient. It's comfort and protection. And about a hundred other things I could never put into words. It's more. It's a promise.

I've never really known what home feels like, but if I had to guess, I'd say this is it. It's him. He feels like everything I've waited for, but that seed of doubt is planted too deep.

Good things like this just don't happen.

Trust is not something I have to give.

My body goes rigid as Ethan's face flashes through my mind, and Dylan being so completely in tune with what I need pulls back almost immediately, scanning my face for a reaction.

I drop my hands down into my lap, the anguish and despair I'm experiencing no doubt written on my face. I can barely look him in the eye.

I'd forgotten. For a moment I'd let myself forget how easy it is for someone to insert themselves into your life, for one kiss to change everything. Dylan makes it easy to forget, but sooner or later, one way or another, those fragmented reminders find me. They always find me.

"Kenz, I'm sorry. I shouldn't have…" He launches himself off the couch, walking to the back door with his fingers thrust into his hair.

Pressure builds in my chest, knowing that once again, I've given him a reason to feel that he needs to be careful with me. Like I'm some fragile thing that might break.

"No, it's me." I shake my head, my wavy hair bouncing around my shoulders. "It was my fault."

His hands fall to his sides as he turns his gaze on me. "Don't say that, Mackenzie," he pleads with me. "It's never your fault. Never."

It's jarring to hear him use my full name for once and it stills me in place. I nod, understanding the undertones in his words. I know what he's really saying. That this situation is completely different.

That he isn't like Ethan.

But Dylan is still dangerous, for an entirely different reason.

I push myself up from the couch and follow him to the french doors, reaching up and pulling his left hand down from his face where he anxiously pinches the bridge of his nose. His hand is warm as I take it in mine, pressing my body up against his, my cheek against his chest. I curl my arms around his waist and breathe him in. The scent of sunscreen invades my senses, coconut with a hint of vanilla.

It might not seem like a grand gesture, but this is me letting him know that I want this too. I want to be close to him. My heart just isn't ready.

He doesn't react for a few seconds but then his arms find their way around me, encasing me in his warmth. "Kenz, you need to tell me what you're thinking," he says as he drops his chin to rest on my head.

"I was thinking that being around you is dangerous for me," I murmur into his golden skin.

His chest rises with a sharp breath beneath my cheek. "Why?"

"Because you make me feel safe."

With a hand on my chin, he tilts my face to his, his eyes swirling with emotion, his expression one of hurt. "What does that mean? What's wrong with safe?"

"You give me a false sense of security. There's no such thing as safe."

His jaw hardens, his eyes still searching mine and I worry I've upset him, but then he threads his fingers through my hair, gently cupping the back of my head. "You're safe when you're with me, Kenzie. Always."

I don't know what surprises me more. The way my words have affected him or the fact that I believe his. Still, whatever this thing is between us, it can't go anywhere. Not yet.

I unfurl my arms from his waist, pushing against his bare skin, my fingers finding the tattooed script on his ribs, lingering there for longer than they should. "I should go."

"Stay," he pleads, reaching for my hand. "I mean, of course I'll drive you home if that's what you want. But I really wish you would stay."

I look up at him hesitantly. "You do?"

"Yeah." At that moment, Chance comes leaping through the back door, his paws finding my upper thighs. Dylan smirks as he gently pushes him away. "And it looks like I'm not the only one."

A soft laugh bubbles up from my throat as I reach down to scratch the dog's head. "I guess I could hang around."

"Good." The hint of a smile graces his lips. "Because you haven't even had a chance to try my famous chocolate chip pancakes. Come on."

He takes my hand in his and leads me to the kitchen.