8. 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 know me … 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.
She nods. “And what about your mom?”
A small smile tugs at my lips. “She was the best part of it all. Worked two jobs, came home late, and still managed to cook dinner and hang out with my sisters and me. She’s the reason I made it out of that mess. I owe her everything.”
My grin widens. “Now, she calls me every day, asking me when I’m going to knock someone up and give her a grandkid. Doesn’t even care who it is anymore. A girlfriend, a coworker, the mail lady. She’s not picky.”
Her eyes sparkle with amusement. “Single moms, I get it. They’re the best. I’m sure one of your many girlfriends could help her out and make a baby with you.”
“Many girlfriends?” I smirk. “I take offense. I’ll have you know, none of the women I date get that title. It’s strictly no-strings.”
She laughs, the sound raspy and warm. It makes me feel lighter. Makes me want to keep talking, even if I should probably back off. But the truth is, she’s not like anyone I’ve met before. And I’m not sure I’ll ever stop wanting to learn more about her.
“So,” I lean back. “Surprise me with something I’d never guess about you.”
“It’s my birthday,” she blurts out. “And I kinda hate parties.”
I scrunch my face. “No way. You wrecked your car on your birthday, and now you’re stuck here… with me?” I shake my head, half grinning. “That’s absolutely… tragic.”
She laughs even harder. “You’re definitely the last person I expected on my birthday guest list. And shit, you’re not exactly easy to look at… or talk to.” She bites her lip, and looks away flustered, like she didn’t mean to flirt but couldn’t help it.
I chuckle, feeling the tension between us shift—lighter now, easier. “Well, happy birthday. That makes you a Libra, right?”
She nods, and for some reason, that makes us both smile.
“My sister Gabriella’s a Libra too. She’s convinced Geminis and Libras are cosmic soulmates. Says that's why we get along so well, though she mostly drives me nuts.” I grin, raising my brow. “So, this jinxed thing… is that what you’re blaming the car trouble on?”
“Jinxed is my whole life,” she says, something shifting in her voice. “Every year, it’s the same—surprise parties, forced celebrations, and another reminder that my dad won’t call.” She hesitates, her walls slightly slipping. “I guess I’m not in the mood to fake it again this year.”
“You’re right. Sometimes, life’s an asshole. Kind of like both of our fathers.” I pause, not sure what else to say. “Anyways, what’s the deal with surprise parties? Why do you hate them?”
Her eyes glisten, her gaze more playful. “Well, someone's interested in my life. I don’t think I’ve had this much attention from a man since I flipped off my ATV in Cancun and lost my bikini top in the process.”
I laugh, imagining the hot mess. “Seems like your, uh, breasts like to be free. If I had them, I wouldn’t bother covering up either.”
She shakes her head, her cheeks turning red. Am I getting under her skin? Why can’t I stop asking her questions? Stop sharing. Stop wanting to know everything about her. Stop wanting to make her smile.
“That laugh of yours… it really should be illegal.”
“Right back at you.” I wink, leaning in enough to make the tension rise. “Seriously, what’s the story with the parties, and this whole jinx thing?”
“You got popcorn and M&Ms? It’s a long story.” Her voice is light, but something feels heavier.
“Wait here,” I mutter, and stand up to leave as an idea hits me.
Shortly after, I’m back with a bag from a little shop down the street—popcorn, M&Ms, and plastic eyeglasses with tiny ghost decals. I even found a pumpkin spice candle and a miniature pumpkin that reads, “If you’ve got it, haunt it.”
“Happy birthday, Jenna.” I hand her the bag, keeping my voice casual. I can be friends with a beautiful woman. I’ll just call Amber or Annabelle later to meet my non-friendly needs.
Her face lights up. “What… what is all this?”
“You love Halloween. You said you needed snacks to share your story.” I nod toward the glasses. “And consider these protection… so you can avoid that damn pole next time.”
She tilts her head back, laughing, light and unrestrained. For a split second, I have to fight the insane urge to kiss her. She slides the glasses on, looking ridiculous and even more adorable.
“I’m not going to say you didn’t have to do this—” she says, with a big smile plastered on her pretty face that tugs at something inside me.
“Because you absolutely should have,” she teases.
“But this is so sweet. Very thoughtful. It’s going straight on my desk at work—right next to my ‘Dis is boo sheet’ pumpkin. ”
I sink into my seat as she wraps her arms around me, thanking me for the car, the talk—for everything. Her hair brushes my cheek, the scent of strawberries filling the air, making me crave more. Fuck. I should pull away. But I don’t. I wait for her to let go.
This woman deserves so much more… more than I could ever give her.
“It’s not diamonds or flower—”
She pulls back, cutting me off. “No. This is so much better.” Then something shifts in her expression.
“My ex used to bring me flowers after every fight—like they could erase everything.” Her jaw hardens as she clutches the gifts in her lap.
“Funny. My dad used to do the same to my mom. I hate them now,” she murmurs. “Jacob still hasn’t gotten the memo.”
I wasn’t expecting that. “Well, next time you get them, we can burn them straight to hell together. Or give them to me—I’ll regift them to my mother. She’d eat that shit up.”
She lets out a sigh and hugs me again. It should be quick, but she holds on a second too long. Her warmth presses into me, my heart slamming into my ribs. I hover awkwardly before I give her a tentative pat on the back.
“I’m sorry.” She hesitates, her cheeks flushing. "I’m a hugger. I mean… a toucher. It's… a friend hug.”
Fuck, I wish it was more than that. “Oh.” I raise an eyebrow. “So we’re friends now?”
One minute, I’m just a contractor. The next, she’s hugging me like we’re something more. Then, just as fast, her walls go up again. And mine seem to be falling down. Before I can finish teasing her, Louie walks in, keys dangling in his hand.
“Miss, your coconuts—I mean your car’s ready,” he says, far too chipper.
I groan, shooting him a glare. I knew I shouldn’t have told him that story.
Jenna laughs despite herself. “Thanks again, Dylan. For everything… including sharing my story.”
Her smile’s replaced by something more guarded. “But I don’t need any more complicated things in my life. I haven’t been friends with the male species since I was twelve. I also don’t talk about myself like this to anyone. Not even to Jacob. So maybe—”
She stops, frustrated, fidgeting with her bag.
“Okay.” It’s all I say, because anything more would be dangerous territory.
She reaches for her wallet, but I cover her hand lightly. “No charge,” I murmur. “Happy birthday again.”
Her eyes meet mine with something unspoken… then her hand slips away. And an ache settles in my chest as I watch her walk out the door.
I’m slouched on the couch, The Sopranos playing on TV like background noise.
Krueger’s sprawled at my feet, and Jaws is curled under my arm, snoring like a miniature bear.
But none of it distracts me because all I can think about is that hug and her face lighting up when I gave her those cheesy gifts.
Before I can talk myself out of it, I grab my phone and start typing:
I was thinking about what you said… about being jinxed.
Maybe the universe puts us on these paths to see if we’re paying attention.
To teach us something. The hard part is figuring out if you’re actually listening or stuck ignoring the signs.
Sometimes, you just gotta pick a direction and go, even if you don’t know where it’ll take you.
I probably sound crazy, but I have to ask… are you happy? I mean really happy with your life, your career, where you’re going? Or are you living out of habit, stuck on autopilot, letting life pass you by?
I pause, staring at the screen. I could leave it there, but the words keep pouring out.
Anyways, thought you should know I like talking to you. Your mind’s like this wild, untamed forest. I never know if I’ll meet fierce Jenna, who’s guarded, or vulnerable Jenna, who lets her walls down. I like both versions of you.
I also like oranges. Way more than coconuts. Good night, friend.
I reread it, knowing it’s a bad idea, knowing these words aren’t just words. They’re dangerous. But it’s been a long day, and my judgment clocked out hours ago, so I hit send.