25. Chapter Twenty-Five
Chapter Twenty-Five
HATTIE
When we got home last night, Dylan insisted I sleep in his bed like I had the two nights prior, and though he joined me, he sat up against the headboard and focused on his phone, essentially shutting me out. It was awkward, to say the least. At the restaurant, he had been desperate for me, but once we were in bed, it was almost like he didn’t even want me there.
Maybe I was reading too deeply into things. He’d sworn he saw someone out back, and I believed it, so maybe the issue was that he was frustrated with how the night had gone. And he did make a point to rub my shoulder and brush his hand along my thigh once or twice before I finally rolled over and went to sleep.
Yeah, I must have been reading into things that weren’t there.
I stepped into the kitchen, and when I wasn’t hit with the familiar scents of fresh-cooked bacon and coffee, I froze.
I was surveying the kitchen, confused about the change in routine, when a hand landed on my shoulder. Startling, I whipped around, only to find Dylan standing close.
“Good morning.” He hurried past me toward the kitchen table, where he grabbed his laptop bag and threw it over his shoulder.
“I’m heading into the station early today,” he said. “Ethan’s outside. He’s going to drive you to work today.”
“Okay…” I ran my hand up my arm and clutched my bicep. “I could get ready really quick and ride in with you.”
He shook his head, attention averted. “No. It’s fine. Ethan can take you.”
I refused to be the whiny, clingy girlfriend, no matter how badly I wanted to scream out no, I want you to take me.
“I’ll stop by to pick up lunch again today.” He leaned forward and brushed his lips against my temple.
“Alright. See you later.”
Without a backward glance, he strode to the front door and closed it firmly behind him.
What the hell? Had he changed his mind? After last night, had he realized that being with me wasn’t worth the drama? If that were the case, I couldn’t blame him. Even though I tried not to harp on that thought while I got ready for the day, I failed miserably. The first thing I encountered at work were the cases of wine that he’d promised to help with.
I sighed. He was busy. That was all. At least that’s what I tried to convince myself of for the millionth time. He was busy, and he didn’t need a clingy, overbearing girlfriend.
I’d almost believed it until I pulled out my phone a few hours later and clicked on his text message.
Dylan: Hey, I can’t make it over to grab lunch. Could you send someone over with it?
Weird. But again, he was busy.
Me: Sure, no problem.
Dylan: Thanks.
I would run it over. That way I could see him for a few minutes. Ethan had told me this morning that he would be around and that if I had to leave the building to text him, so I shot off a quick message and put together the order.
By the time I made it to the entrance of the restaurant, Ethan was already waiting for me. The drive over to the station only took ten minutes, but when I stepped up to the officer at the front desk and told him I was here with Dylan Gray’s lunch order, I was starting to feel nervous about my decision.
What if he asked for the food to be delivered because he didn’t want to see me? Or he was too busy and didn’t have time? Would he be annoyed that I’d shown up?
I spun the beaded bracelet on my left wrist, willing my nerves to settle. I was being ridiculous.
A few moments later, the officer behind the counter returned and held out a hand, gesturing to the bag. “He says you can leave it here.”
“Thanks.” Masking my disappointment with a smile, I turned and hurried back out to Ethan, feeling stupid. I understood that his career was important and that he was busy, but was he really so overloaded with work that he couldn’t take one minute to say hi?
After focusing on work and hearing nothing else from Dylan, I was more than ready to see him by the time five o’clock came around. We would have dinner together like usual, maybe watch some TV. Then we’d fall into bed together, and I could stop worrying that he’d changed his mind.
But when Ethan met me at the door at the end of the day, disappointment swamped me again.
“Where’s Dylan?”
He shrugged. “Still at the station, I assume. You ready?”
Once I was buckled in the passenger seat of Ethan’s patrol car, I shot off a text to Dylan.
Me: Everything okay?
Dylan: Yup
With a sigh, I tried again.
Me: Will you be home for dinner?
Dylan. No.
Me: You sure everything’s okay?
Dylan: Yup.
Now I was spiraling. I needed more than a one-word answer from him.
Me: Want to tell me what’s going on?
Dylan: We can talk when I get home.
Well, that didn’t sound great. If nothing was wrong, he wouldn’t want to talk. I swallowed the lump in my throat and turned toward the window.
By the time nine o’clock came and went without any word from Dylan, it was clear something had changed.
I wasn’t sure why, but the message had been received. Loud and clear. I didn’t need to wait up to hear whatever explanation he was going to give. It wouldn’t matter.
Feeling sad and stupid, I went upstairs, took a shower, and climbed into my own bed. Maybe I’d pushed too hard on Monday, and he wasn’t actually ready for a relationship.
I wouldn’t make that mistake twice.