Worse—she still wouldn’tlet herselfbe claimed.
And fuck if that didn’t break him clean in half.
Dylan didn’t say a word as he pulled out of the drive-in.
Didn’t look at her.
Didn’t ask if she was okay.
Didn’t turn the music on like he normally would, filling the silence with something easy and familiar. The quiet between them stretched thick and suffocating.
She was still curled into the passenger seat, arms crossed, eyes on the window like she was trying to disappear into the trees lining the backroads of Loblolly County.
He gripped the wheel tighter, knuckles bone-white.
This wasn’t how it was supposed to feel. Coming back here with her… it was supposed to be full circle. Sweet. Maybe even healing. Instead, it felt like a fucking rewind button he couldn’t stop hitting.
Dylan let out a slow breath, steadying himself. His voice, when it came, was quiet. “I’m taking you home.”
Ali didn’t answer. Didn’t argue. Just gave a small, almost imperceptible nod.
He looked back at the road.
What the hell was he supposed to do now?
Fly back to Orlando and pretend like everything was okay? Like he hadn’t just watched the woman he loved pull away from him like loving him out loud was something to be ashamed of?
Like he hadn’t seen her protect herself first—again—by throwing up walls she swore were gone?
He’d promised himself this time would be different.
Shesaidit would be.
And yet…
Dylan blinked hard, jaw tight. This wasn’t about public validation or some macho claim. It wasn’t about Jenna or Daisy or the past.
It was aboutherstill not believing she was worthy of being loved in the light.
Not just in whispers. Not just in bedsheets and beach kisses and secret texts.
But in front of the world.
And now he was driving her home, back to her safe little bubble, and wondering what the fuck he was supposed to do when she looked at him like a risk instead of a constant.
He didn’t want to leave.
Didn’t want to stop fighting for her.
But damn if he wasn’t tired of waiting for her to believe in what they had the wayhedid.
They walked in without a word.
The click of the front door shutting echoed louder than it should’ve, like punctuation on the kind of silence that had nothing to do with peace.
Ali hovered by the entryway, arms still wrapped around herself. Dylan didn’t look at her. Couldn’t. Just followed her silently to her bedroom.
He crossed to where he’d dropped his duffle earlier and reached for the handle.
