I open the video she sent—a dog twerking to Usher—and laugh. Izzy knows me too well. I love Usher… and her, who’s been saying “fuggen” for eight years, ever since my kids started parroting her every word.
Jacob:Happy Birthday again. Did I tell you how lucky I am to have you, even when we argue over dumb stuff? I have a quiet night planned at your favorite restaurant with the girls and Izzy. You’re going to love it.
I roll my eyes. Yes, Jacob, you tell me once a year or on special occasions. And that sounds great—if only it were true. But I know better. It’s another surprise party. Don’t get me wrong. I love my kids and Izzy. But I don’t love big crowds or having everyone’s eyes on me, waiting for me to smile at the exact right time. And just because I like planning parties, doesn’t mean I want to be the center of one.
Jacob:Oh, and great news. Silver Creek Rescue agreed to take Wobbles. We’ll break the news to the girls tomorrow and soften the blow with a trip to the toy store.
I stare at the message, reading it twice. I knew this was coming. I knew we couldn’t keep Wobbles, but that doesn’t make it any easier. Of course, the kids and I got attached. The chaotic thing made us laugh, always squeezing into the tiniest boxes, curling up to us in the most adorable ways. And now we have to say goodbye.
I toss my phone into my bag, pushing down the hard lump in my throat. When I look up, Dylan’s staring at me with those hazel eyes that send my heart into overdrive.
“Everything okay?” he asks, gently.
“Yeah,” I lie, though my voice gives me away.
He tilts his head like he’s not buying it. “It’s all good if you don’t want to talk about it. But if you do… I’m here.”
The way he says it so sincerely makes me want to spill everything.
“It’s fine.” I shake my head. “My husband just found a home for Wobbles, the cat my daughter found a few weeks ago. Some animal shelter called Silver Creek. Not looking forward to having that conversation with my girls.”
Dylan nods slowly. “Shit, that sounds tough. And I get it. Families can be… complicated.”
The air between us shifts, heavy with everything left unsaid. Before I can dwell on it, Louie calls out, “Dylan! Car’s ready in fifteen minutes!”
Dylan leans in slightly. “Don’t worry,” he says, low enough that only I can hear. “This will be our little secret.”
The way he says it makes my pulse quicken. Why do I get the feeling he has a lot more secrets? I try to focus back on my book, but it’s useless. Every so often, I catch Dylan’s eyes flicking from his phone back to me, like there’s something else he wants to say.
And maybe I have something to say too.
Chapter 8: Dangerous Words
Dylan: October
I scroll through my phone, but my focus keeps drifting to her. She’s flipping through pages in her book, clearly not reading. Probably trying to escape whatever’s eating at her—and failing.
I know that feeling all too well. Running. Hiding. Drowning out the noise with sex, whiskey, work, anything to numb it all out. It works for a while. But my past always creeps back in, no matter what I try to fill the holes with. I wonder if I can distract her from her own demons.
For a second, I consider giving her space. But something about Jenna makes me crave more. Maybe it’s how she listens. Or the way she looks at me like I’m not beyond saving, like she wants to knowme… figure me out. If she knew my full story, though, she’d probably run for the hills.
Before I can stop myself, I lean forward. “You wanna hear about my family drama?” I spit out, not wanting our conversation to end.
She tilts her head, unsure if I’m joking. “I’m listening.”
I clear my throat and drag a hand through my hair. “My brother and I… we got into drinking and hard drugs when we were younger. I stopped. He didn’t.”
I pause, searching her eyes for judgment, pity, disgust. But all I see is… understanding.
“I should’ve done more. Should’ve been there for him… but I wasn’t. And our dad blames me for not stopping it.”
I let out a big sigh. “It’s a part of my life I try not to think about anymore. Better to focus on the good stuff and fuck all that other noise.”
She doesn’t look convinced, and her face hardens with something fierce. “I’m sorry, life can be an asshole sometimes. But your dad… blaming you for something you couldn’t control?” Her voice rises slightly. “That’s not okay. Sounds like he needs to get his shit together.”
“It’s fine. It feels like another lifetime,” I say, shrugging it off. “I’d like to think he’s at peace now. Maybe in a better place, even if I’ll never know.”
Her hand brushes mine—soft and unsure. And her touch lingers long enough to rattle me. I pull back before I allow myself to feel too much, the weight of everything I shared pressing down.
