23. Chapter 23 Planet Dylan
Jenna: December
“When I’m with you, everything feels right.
Let me show you.” His voice repeats in my mind.
Will his words ever get old? Will these feelings eventually fizzle out?
What does he mean, let me show you ? His heart?
No, his dick, probably. Nope. Not happening.
No dicks. No more kissing. Just friendship.
“Mommy, Mommy, guess what!” Ava charges into the bathroom, my pants still around my ankles.
“What, sweet cheeks?”
“Daddy says we can get a puppy bulldog! So we won’t be sad about Wobbles anymore.” Ava squeals, jumping up and down. “And because they’re lazy and don’t need lots of walks.”
My heart races. He did not just promise the girls a dog without even talking to me first. He always does this.
Last weekend he promised Lily could go to that sleepover without checking in.
And before that, he invited all our friends over without asking if I had other plans.
Aren’t we supposed to be a team and have conversations about this stuff?
“A puppy?” I ask, trying to keep my voice light. “Like… a stuffed one that doesn’t bark or pee?”
Lily joins the madness, pigtails bouncing. “No, Mommy, a real one! A big one! I wanna name it Chewie Bits!”
Ava interrupts, giggling. “No, Boner Dong! Because they like bones!”
I nearly choke on my laugh as I wash my hands and start putting my makeup on. “Do you mean Boner Dog ? What’s the ‘Dong’ for?”
Jacob peeks his head in. “Is it safe to come in here?”
“So… Jacob. Really, a puppy?” I say, narrowing my eyes.
“Girls, let Mommy and Daddy talk. Go get ready for school,” he murmurs.
“Don’t give me that look like I did something wrong,” Jacob snaps, already defensive. “You said you wanted more spontaneity. You’ve been sad about the cat, and now I’m giving you the next best thing.”
Yes, Jacob. I wanted a date night—or maybe some table sex for a change. Not another mouth to feed. A dog isn’t going to fix this marriage. And it’s a hell of a lot more work than a damn cat. But I don’t say any of that.
“I guess the girls are old enough to help take care of it. And I’ve always loved cats and dogs. Next time, though, let's make big decisions together.”
He barely hears me, too busy mocking my “O” face in the mirror while I put mascara on. I glance at him, irritation flickering across my face. Another big win for Team Us. “I’m serious. Don’t turn this into a joke.”
“I hear you. Big decisions—check in with my mother. I mean, my wife.” He grins.
Oh, he did not just go there. If I wasn’t on cloud nine from Dylan, this whole conversation would be going differently.
I can’t remember the last time I argued about something that mattered.
These days, I let things go. Until I explode.
That’s my thing, I let stuff build up until I can’t take it anymore. Then boom, it’s World War III.
I get dressed without responding.
“I’m kidding, Jenna,” Jacob says lightly. “Working late tonight, but we can talk more later.”
“Sounds good. I have a doctor’s appointment today and only working a half day,” I lie, kissing him before he leaves.
It’s terrifying how natural the lies come now. To him and to myself. I’ve been living two lives for months, and somehow, it’s become second nature. One part of me still plays loving mother and wife. The other part, she’s someone else entirely. Someone freer. Braver than I usually am.
But with Dylan, I’m just Jenna.
I turn on music, trying to block out the guilt, and start rummaging through my closet. What do you even wear to a “just friends” lunch that’s anything but just friends?
The view is beautiful. Nashville’s John Seigenthaler Pedestrian Bridge arches over a lush sea of green. I pause, my heart pounding.
Am I making a mistake?
I try to convince myself I need this sliver of happiness. That I’m not hurting anyone, not really, as long as I don’t take it too far. That I’m still in control.
But that’s the biggest lie of all.
Then Dylan appears. He strides toward me, baseball cap backward, wearing that smirk, the one that always pulls me in and makes everything else disappear.
My breath hitches.
“You’re here,” he murmurs, his fingers lacing through mine. His touch is warm, sending a slow burn through me. And every ounce of doubt melts away.
“I’m here,” I whisper, my heartbeat slowing. “This view—it’s stunning. Where are you taking me?”
He gestures to his truck, and when I glance up, I stop dead in my tracks.
“What is this?” My voice catches.
“It’s a truck picnic,” he says softly. “A reminder that you deserve moments that make you happy, just for you. No expectations. Just friends.”
Wow, this is probably the sweetest thing anyone’s done for me.
He helps me climb into the back, and it all feels unreal, like stepping into someone else’s dream. The seats are folded down, flannel blankets across the floor, overstuffed pillows begging me to melt into them, and a cooler in the corner. He even thought of a small heater to keep us warm.
I slip off my heels and sink into the cozy blankets. “Thank you.” I smile, nudging him playfully. “Seriously, though?”
Dylan settles beside me, pulling out a duffle bag. “What?” He unzips it, revealing all my favorite snacks, including his famous hot chicken. “You need to eat, and we enjoy hanging out. What’s the problem?”
I narrow my eyes, leaning in. “What else is in there? Eggplants? Whips? A leash? Because I’m not prepared for that kind of picnic.”
He laughs, the sound chasing away the dark shadows inside of me. “You’re the fucking best, why didn’t I think of that? Next time, I’ll pack ‘special-sized veggies’ for you.”
I bite back my laugh, but it’s pointless—my imagination’s already gone wild. And my panties were soaked the moment he walked up to me in that stupid baseball cap.
“If this is you ‘not showing me.’” My voice catches as he gets closer. “I can’t imagine what it looks like when you try to seduce someone.”
He raises his brow. “Wouldn’t you love to know?”
“Speaking of food,” I say, shifting gears. “My kids think our puppy should be named Chewie Bits or Boner Dong. You know, the dog I found out we’re getting this morning.”
“Boner Dong! Hands down!” he declares as he leans back, chuckling. “And if I wanted to sleep with you, I’d have just said so. Also, wouldn’t have brought you this.” He reaches into his bag and hands me a book— Pretty Girl Gone Missing .
My cheeks light up as I grab it from him. “So, this is your game? Wooing women with murder books and bold honesty? That easy for you, Mr. Hayes?”
“Actually, no.” He shakes his head. “It’s never been easy. You probably wouldn’t have even talked to nerdy Dylan in high school.”
“Highly doubt that,” I say, flipping the book open to the first page.
Jacob’s finally dead. Sarah’s next. But this time, I won’t make the mistake of letting her get too close…
Dylan’s forehead wrinkles, his eyebrows raised high.
“Well,” I say, giving him a playful look. “This is… an interesting choice of book.”
His eyes flicker to mine, fork hovering midair. “I swear, I didn’t know the first person getting axed was named Jacob.” His voice breaks off. “Pure coincidence.”
I laugh, turning the page. “Wipe the worry off your face. I believe you.” My gaze lingers for a moment. “Surprised you remembered our conversation about my love for thrillers.”
His voice drops, his guard slipping. “Jenna, forgetting you? Forgetting anything about you? Fucking impossible. Believe me. I’ve tried.”
He shifts a little farther away and searches for something inside his bag. Smart move, Dylan. Because if you were any closer, I'd be making bad decisions. Very bad decisions. And unless someone parks a school bus between us, nothing would stop me.
“What are you looking for now? You gonna pull out a bunny rabbit… maybe handcuffs now?” I tease, unable to help myself.
He takes out his phone instead, scrolling through songs before settling on a soft country playlist. “Friends don’t use handcuffs,” he says, smirking. “Though, I wouldn’t mind tying you to my truck while I—”
I put a finger on his lips, and he nips at it. “Don’t even finish that sentence.”
“For the record, I was going to say, handcuff you to the truck so I can feed you.” He cocks his brow and brings a piece of chicken to my lips. The second I swallow, a moan slips out, low and involuntary.
“Fuck, Jenna.” His voice drops lower. “You keep making sounds like that, and I will not be held responsible for what happens next.”
Heat crawls up my chest. “Sorry,” I mutter, trying to focus on the book. “Your… food… mmm, I could get used to you feeding me every day.”
He grins, and the moment of silence is thick with tension.
“Tell me something real,” he asks suddenly. “Something no one else knows.”
His curiosity about my life pulls me in. It makes me feel wanted, appreciated, seen. And it’s dangerously addictive.
What do I tell him? About the abuse I endured for years? That my marriage is slowly collapsing? That I stupidly hope for my father to show up one day?
Or how often I fantasize about him when I’m with my husband?
Fuck no. Absolutely not that.
“Stop overthinking and spill it,” Dylan mutters, moving one of the pillows between us as he shifts closer. I clutch the warm blanket on my lap, trying to resist the urge to grab him by the T-shirt and—
Without warning, he turns to me and gently slides his hand over my eyes. His other arm brushes against my shoulder. Every muscle in my body tenses up.
“What the hell are you doing?” I cry out, instinctively closing my eyes.
“Relax,” he whispers, leaning in. His peppermint breath fills my lungs, and his voice somehow steadies my pulse and speeds it up at the same time.
“Gabriella used to do this thing. She’d sing in front of us, but only if we turned around.
Or if she closed her eyes. Said it made her feel less exposed. ”