My chest tightened. “By who?”
His look said I knew exactly who.
Regan.
Maybe Edge.
Maybe his own conscience, which was honestly becoming my least favorite person.
“I don’t want you to stay away,” I whispered.
The words came out softer than I meant them to.
Dylan’s face changed.
I lifted my hand before I could think better of it and trailed my fingertips up his cheek. His skin was warm from the night, smooth where the beard used to be. Water clung to his jaw.
He closed his eyes for half a second.
Like my touch hurt.
Like he wanted it to.
“Destiny,” he said.
“I’m eighteen now.”
His eyes opened.
There it was.
The thing neither one of us had been saying all day.
He stepped back half an inch.
Not far.
Enough.
“I know.”
“You didn’t come today.”
“No.”
“That hurt.”
His jaw flexed. “I know.”
“Then why?”
“Because I’m trying not to be selfish.”
I laughed once, quiet and sad. “How noble.”
“It’s not noble. It’s killing me.”
That shut me up.
