A sob ripped out of her and she lurched forward— straight into his arms.
Dylan held her tight, wrapping himself around her like a shield. He could feel her falling apart against his chest, and all he could do was hold on.
“You’re okay,” he whispered, again and again. “You’re okay. I’ve got you.”
And, to his amazement, she didn’t pull away.
Illicit Affairs
Ali
The concrete was rough against her butt. Still, she couldn’t move. Her chest felt too tight. Her head too loud.
She tried to count backwards. Tried to remember the grounding tricks from therapy. Name five things you can see. Four you can touch. Three you can hear—
The sound of cicadas somewhere nearby.
Two—
Footsteps. Quick, steady.
Then silence.
She didn’t lift her head. She couldn’t. But through the curtain of her hair, she caught a glimpse of worn gray New Balances stopping just inches from her curled-up body.
Her stomach dropped. Her throat burned.
No.
Please no.
Then he dropped into a squat, forearms braced across his knees.
“Ali.”
Her name in his voice undid her. Low. Gentle. Shaky in a way Dylan McKenzie never was.
She was too scared to look up. Too scared to see the regret on his face. But if she ignored him… she couldn’t do that to him. He didn’t deserve that. So she peeked. Just barely.
His eyes were wide and terrified, scanning her face like he was trying to read her every thought, every hurt.
“I’ve got you,” he said softly. “You’re okay. Just breathe.”
But she couldn’t. Her lungs refused. Her brain screamed. Her fingers clenched at her dress like it could anchor her to something real.
He sat beside her— close but not touching— and started breathing, slow and deliberate.
“In… and out,” he whispered. “You’re safe. I’m here. You’re not alone.”
She wanted to tell him to leave. That she didn’t want him to see her like this. That he should forget about what happened outside the building. That it meant nothing.
That she meant nothing.
That he didn’t have to baby her or pretend out of guilt. He could just go back to the party. To that perfect woman waitingon him. His agent who looked like she should be walking the runway.
But the words wouldn’t come. Just breathless, panicked gasps that sounded too much like crying.
Still, he stayed.
