Chapter 37 Lo #2
The room goes dead silent. I swear I hear the blood in my ears.
“What?” Beck is the first to find his voice. It cracks loud as a whip.
Nash nods once, grim as a grave. “For trespassing out by the river cabins. Gave me a fake name and ID. Said he was passing through. Claimed he got lost hiking.”
Hayes’s knuckles go white on the edge of the couch. Ford swears low and violent under his breath.
“So, he’s at the station now?” I gasp.
Nash nods, firm. “He’s in a cell. Locked up tight. Lying to law enforcement and trespassing out there gave me more than enough reason to hold him overnight.”
My lungs squeeze, too tight to pull air, until those words hit and loosen something deep inside me. He’s not out there. He’s not coming through another door.
Nash leans forward, trying to nail the truth down for me. “With what you’ve just told me, and those messages and photos, you’ve given us leverage. A hell of a lot stronger case than simple trespassing. This isn’t going away for him, Miss Marsh.”
Relief should come. But it doesn’t. My chest still feels like it’s going to split open.
Because I need more than the sheriff’s word. I need to see Dylan with my own eyes, behind those bars, not in shadows or photographs. I need proof.
“I want to see him,” I blurt. My own voice startles me, rough and sharp. “Take me to him.”
Nash blinks. “Lo—”
“I need to,” I snap, louder now, more desperate. “I need to know it’s real. That he’s really there. That he can’t…” My throat cuts off, but I force the words out anyway. “That he can’t get to me.”
Beck steps forward, arms crossed like a wall. “She’s not going without us.”
“Not a chance,” Ford growls.
Hayes doesn’t move from his place beside me, just slides his hand over mine and adds, calm but deadly, “We all want to see this man.”
For a second, I think Nash is going to fight us. His jaw works, the pen in his hand clicking open and shut. Then he exhales like he’s swallowing glass.
“You can see him,” he says finally. His gaze pins each of them in turn. “But you do it my way. You don’t touch him, you don’t speak unless I say so, and you don’t cause trouble in my station. Am I clear?”
Ford’s lip curls. Beck’s growl vibrates the walls. Hayes’s grip tightens on my fingers.
I lift my chin, though my heart is thrashing. “Clear.”
Nash studies me for another long second, then nods once, sharp. “Fine. But if any of you so much as breathe wrong, the deal’s off. Understand?”
The men all nod back, tight and reluctant.
Nash tucks his notepad into his jacket and straightens. “Let’s go.”
My stomach flips, fear and fury twisting together, but I stand anyway. Because I have to. Because hiding has never worked. Because this time, I’m going to look Dylan Carr in the eye.
The station smells like bleach and old coffee. Too bright, too sterile, like a place where nightmares shouldn’t exist. But they do anyway.
My sneakers squeak against the linoleum as Nash leads us down the hallway. Every step feels heavier, my body screaming to turn back, but I don’t. Not this time.
Beck shadows me on one side, Hayes on the other, Ford trailing behind like a storm cloud ready to strike. We move as one, a wall of tension and fury.
Nash stops at a reinforced door and turns to us. “Last chance. You don’t want this, you say the word now.”
“I want it,” I whisper. My voice shakes, but it’s real. “I need it.”
He studies me, then unlocks the door. The metallic clang echoes through me like a warning.
We step into the holding area. Rows of barred cells line the wall, most empty. But not the one at the end.
Dylan.
He’s slouched on the bench, head tipped back like he owns the place. Same too-handsome face, but thinner now, sharper, eyes sunken in a way that makes the smile he gives me all the more grotesque.
“Well, well.” His voice scrapes down my spine like broken glass. “Thought I was dreaming when they said your name. But here you are. My girl.”
My knees nearly buckle, but Hayes’s hand steadies me. Beck steps forward automatically, body shielding me. Ford mutters something violent under his breath.
Dylan’s eyes flick past me and then narrow. He sees them. All three of them, surrounding me.
Something cracks in his expression. A twitch.
Then another.
His grin twists, teeth bared.
“What the hell is this?” His voice climbs, jagged. “Them? You really are with them?”
“Shut your mouth,” Beck snarls.
But he doesn’t. Dylan’s voice gets louder, echoing against the walls.
“I thought you might be dating just one of them; I wanted to find out which one. But this…”
I suck in and hold a breath as he continues.
“You never wanted me, but you wanted them? All of them? At once?” His hands slam against the bars, rattling them hard enough to shudder the frame. “You let them touch you, didn’t you? You smiled for them. You… you gave yourself—”
“Enough,” Nash snaps, but Dylan’s gone, unraveling.
“Why not me?” His scream cuts through the bars. “Why not me? I was there first! I saw you first! I was supposed to be the one—”
Ford surges forward, fists balled, murder in his eyes. Hayes yanks him back just in time. Beck’s shoulders are coiled like a spring, one word away from snapping.
I can barely breathe, but somehow, I force sound past my throat. “Because you were never the one.”
The words silence him. Just for a second. His face contorts, something between a sob and a snarl.
“Liar,” he spits. “You don’t even know what you are. You don’t deserve them. You don’t deserve me.”
“Dylan.” Nash’s voice is steel now, pulling the key ring from his belt and shoving us toward the door. “That’s enough. You’re done.”
Dylan’s laughter follows us, manic and broken. “You’ll come back! You’ll see! They’ll get tired of you, and you’ll come back to me. You’ll see that I’m the nice guy—”
I whip around, my voice slicing through his madness before the door can shut. “No, Dylan. I don’t come back, I rise. And you’re never going to see me fall again.”
The words hit like a slap, sharp enough to echo in the silence that follows. For the first time, his laughter falters.
The door slams shut on his voice, but it’s still in my head, bouncing around my skull like shrapnel.
Hayes’s hand finds mine, grounding me. Beck’s chest heaves like he’s ready to go back in there and tear the bars off. Ford looks one breath away from doing exactly that.
I don’t need to worry about that idiot anymore. He can’t ever get to me. I have them.
By the time we pull up to the house, I feel hollow. Not empty. Just… scraped out.
The door clicks shut behind us, the familiar cedar smoke scent wrapping around me. For once, it doesn’t gut me. It feels like air in my starving lungs.
Ford’s the first to move, dragging a hand through his hair.
“Jesus, Lo.” He sounds like he’s been holding his breath this whole time. “That was insane, right?”
I let out this half laugh, half choke that doesn’t sound human. “I can’t believe he got himself locked up. What an idiot.”
Beck crouches in front of me, hands braced on his knees, eyes searching my face, looking for broken pieces. “You good?”
I blink at him. “Define good.”
His jaw flexes. He doesn’t answer, just shifts closer and presses the back of his hand to mine like checking for a fever. It’s stupid, but the warmth makes something in my chest unclench.
Hayes hasn’t moved. He’s still on the couch next to me, solid and silent, his hand wrapped around mine as an anchor. When I glance at him, he’s staring at the wall like it insulted his mother, muscles locked so tight I can practically hear them creak.
“Hayes,” I whisper.
His eyes cut to me, and damn, they’re dark. Storm dark. “You’re safe here. He’s not getting near you. Not while I’m breathing.”
My throat closes. Words just… don’t want to come. So I nod instead, gripping his hand like it’s the only thing keeping me from sliding through the floor.
Something wild pulses through me. Relief, yes, but more than that. Fierce and hungry. But without the crazy headiness that comes with heat.
I want.
God, I want things now.
My body moves before my brain catches up. I push up from the couch, closing the space between us until I’m right in front of Hayes. His head tilts, eyes flicking to my mouth.
I kiss him. Hard. He tastes of heat and a rawness, like he’s been starving too. A low sound rumbles in his chest as his arms band around me, hauling me close.
Somewhere behind me, Beck mutters a curse. And then his hands are on my hips, big and rough and so damn sure as he peels me away from Hayes just enough to steal a kiss of his own. His mouth crashes into mine, all teeth and hunger.
“Lo,” Ford says.
Just my name, but it’s a command and a plea all at once. When I turn, his hand cups my jaw, his thumb brushing my cheek with a tenderness that undoes me.
I melt between them, heart pounding loud as a war drum.
Hayes growls low in his throat and tugs me back against him, lips dragging down my neck, teeth scraping my skin in a way that makes heat pool low in my belly.
Beck’s fingers slide under my sweater, callused palms gliding over my waist, my ribs, higher.
Ford’s hands are at my hips, gripping hard enough to make me gasp as he presses against my back.
“Bed,” Beck groans. “Now.”
No one argues. Hayes lifts me like I weigh nothing, my legs locking around his waist as he carries me down the hall. The three of them move around me. Hands, mouths, and scorching heat, until my sweater’s gone, my jeans follow, and I’m on the mattress with nothing but their bodies closing in.
Hayes kisses down my stomach while Beck’s mouth claims mine again, and Ford strips the last of my clothes away with a patience that’s almost cruel, his fingers lingering, worshiping every inch.
By the time Hayes’s mouth finds me and Beck’s teeth graze my throat and Ford’s hand slides between my thighs, I’m gone. Just gone.