For one suspended second, I feel myself leaning toward something dangerous—toward him, toward the possibility ofmore. My breath catches, my body tipping forward a fraction before terror slams into me like a wall.
No.
Not again. Not when I'm barely holding myself together.
Dylan steps closer—just an inch, barely anything—but it’s enough to make the air between us thicken, charged and dizzying. His hand lifts, hesitates in midair like he's fighting the urge to touch me, to brush a strand of hair from my cheek.
And God, I want him to. I want him so much it terrifies me.
I step back sharply, breath shaking. "I—I can’t do this."
"Avery—"
The way he says my name nearly undoes me. Gentle. Steady. Nothing like Oliver’s demanding neediness or manipulative charm. Dylan doesn’t push. He never pushes. And somehow, that makes the ground tilt harder beneath my feet.
"I’m sorry," I choke out, voice cracking. "I’m not— I’m not ready for whatever this is."
The words feel like tearing open stitches. My chest hurts. My throat burns. I can’t breathe.
Dylan’s brows draw together, worry etched across his face. He doesn’t reach for me, doesn’t trap me, doesn’t ask me to stay—he justwaits, giving me space I don’t know how to accept.
Which is exactly why I run.
I fumble with the keys with my shaking hands. Dylan doesn't try to stop me. He just stands there in the driveway, shoulders tense but posture open, letting me make the choice Oliver never gave me. I reverse out without looking back.
I make it three blocks before I have to pull over, my vision blurring with tears. Tears for the family warmth I've just left behind, for the acceptance they offered so freely, for the way one almost-moment with him cracked something open in me I’m terrified to face.
My phone buzzes. Dylan:You don't have to apologize. Take the time you need. I'm not going anywhere.
The tears come harder then, because somehow his understanding makes everything worse. He's being patient and kind and everything Oliver never was, and I'm terrified I'm going to break his heart the same way Oliver broke mine. Or worse, that I'll let him in and he'll break mine all over again, and this time I won't survive it.
I sit in my car on the side of the road, city lights blurring through my tears, and wonder if I'll ever be brave enough to let someone love me again.
The fog rolls in thicker, obscuring the world beyond my windshield, and I let myself cry for all of it. For the girl who believed in forever, for the woman who's terrified of wanting again, and the fear that made me run from it.
When I finally make it home to my apartment, I curl up on my couch in the dark, still wearing my dress, still smelling Dylan's cologne on my skin. My phone sits silent on the coffee table, that last text from Dylan glowing in the darkness.
I'm not going anywhere.
Chapter five
Avery
Three days after the dinner at Dylan's, I sit at my dining table with contract revisions spread across the surface, highlighter in hand, trying to focus on anything except the memory of that moment we shared on the driveway. The Miller acquisition documents blur together, legal language I've read a hundred times refusing to make sense tonight. My apartment feels too quiet, the kind of silence that amplifies every thought I'm trying to avoid.
The doorbell cuts through the stillness, sharp and unexpected. I glance at the clock—8:47 PM. Jessica is out with Marlin tonight, their standing Tuesday date. Nobody else would show up unannounced.
I approach the door slowly, that familiar prickle of unease creeping up my spine. Through the peephole, the hallway light illuminates a figure that makes my blood turn to ice.
Oliver.
He's leaning against the wall opposite my door, and even through the distorted lens I can see the telltale signs. The loosened tie. The way he sways slightly when he shifts hisweight. The glassy, unfocused look I remember from the handful of times he had too much at company events.
Drunk.
My sanctuary has been violated. This apartment, my carefully chosen refuge with its exposed brick and large windows, the place I rebuilt myself after leaving him, suddenly feels like a trap.
I back away from the door, my bare feet silent on the hardwood floor. Maybe if I stay quiet, he'll think I'm not home. Maybe he'll leave.
