Chapter 7
Chapter
Seven
THEA
Ican’t remember the last time I went out.
It had to be several years ago now, and it shows based off of the clothes I have available in my closet.
Not to mention the way my body has changed.
I’ve lost most of the baby weight, but things don’t fit quite the same.
Dylan said we’re going to a club that she went to with some of the friends she had made from class before she was kidnapped, much to Fletcher’s displeasure.
I choose a black mini skirt that I pair with tights and a pair of chunky platform boots.
For the shirt I opt for a blue camo top that laces all the way up the front, with a bra that goes mostly undetected.
It isn’t exactly warm outside but it will be inside the club.
I open my door to walk across to the bathroom.
When I get inside, I close the door so I can do my hair and makeup.
It’s been so long since I’ve put this level of effort into my appearance and it feels…
nice. Normal. I actually feel more like myself than I have in a long time.
Tonight won’t erase the past or the pain, but maybe it’s a step in the right direction.
I tame the curls of my hair, pulling it back into a bun on the top of my head—the color such a dark brown it’s practically black—before I paint a light bit of makeup on my face that accentuates not only the brown of my eyes but the freckles dusted across my nose.
When I decide I’m pleased with my appearance, I clean up my mess and leave the bathroom, bumping directly into a hard side.
Startled, I stumble back, my hand instinctively flying to steady myself against the doorframe.
My breath catches as I look up and find myself face to face with Nathan.
His expression shifts instantly from surprise to something more complicated before he rights himself.
But I caught whatever that was. His eyes sweep over me, lingering just a second too long, and I catch the way his jaw tightens, the faint clench of his fists at his sides.
He blinks, dragging his gaze back to my face as though it takes effort.
“Sorry,” he says gruffly, stepping back to give me space.
His voice is steady, but I don’t miss the tension in his shoulders that I could swear wasn’t there moments ago.
“It’s fine,” I say quickly, my tone more neutral than it has been when addressing him.
I brush past him, my head held high even though my pulse is thudding louder than it should be.
I know I look good, but the way he looked at me just now was almost too much to process.
Like he didn’t know whether to admire it or curse it.
As I move past, I feel his presence like a tangible weight.
His silence feels charged, like he’s holding something back, and when I glance at him out of the corner of my eye as I exit my bedroom again after grabbing my purse, he’s still standing there, watching me, his hands shoved into his pockets now.
His knuckles are white though, gripping whatever’s inside.
“You coming?” I ask, trying to act casual like his reaction hasn’t sent a ripple through me. One I refuse to acknowledge.
“Yeah,” he says and clears his throat. He finally moves, his strides purposeful as he falls into step behind me.
Tonight has suddenly become more than just letting loose; it’s about keeping things on neutral ground.
About showing not only him, but myself, that I can do this without letting the weight of the past drag me under.
We step outside, and the crisp night air brushes against my skin, cooling the heat that’s rising in my chest. The porchlight casts a soft glow over the driveway and I spot a sleek black car idling at the curb.
The sound of laughter drifts from the open window and I instantly recognize Dylan’s warm, familiar voice.
As we approach, she leans out of the passenger seat, her straight blonde hair catching in the light.
“Finally!” she calls, her grin widening as she takes us in. Her eyes flick between the two of us, lingering on me for a moment before she whistles low. “Wow, you look incredible.”
“Thanks,” I reply, a faint smile tugging at my lips as the familiarity of our friendship settles in.
Dylan always has a way of making compliments feel genuine, like she’s seeing you, really seeing you.
Fletcher leans over from the driver’s seat, flashing me a grin that’s just as warm, and I really don’t think I’ll ever get used to how different it is from his normal pensive appearance.
“She’s not kidding,” he says. “You clean up nice”
“Okay, okay, don’t inflate her ego too much,” Dylan teases, swatting at Fletcher’s arm before turning her attention to him. Her gaze sharpens slightly, a flicker of amusement dancing in her eyes. “You don’t look too shabby either, but she’s clearly winning tonight. Sorry, boys.”
I don’t dare glance at Nathan, but I can feel his tension beside me.
He clearly doesn’t want to be involved in this.
His silence says enough. Fletcher pops the locks, and Dylan pushes open her door, stepping out with a playful flourish.
It’s so good to see this side of her again, I wasn’t sure we ever would.
But she said something a number of weeks back that stuck with me.
“I don’t want to be the person they tried to make me into.
” It broke my heart then, for her and all the abuse she endured, and it breaks my heart now, but for myself.
Because I realize I’ve been doing the same thing—letting others shape me into someone I don’t recognize.
My grief over Hallie is one thing, something that will never fully heal, but what Lucas did to me, and what I’ve been through with Nathan?
Only I have control over my reactions to it.
“I’m making Fletcher drive,” she announces, slipping her arm through mine as she pulls me toward the car. “You’re riding with me in the back. Girl talk.” She throws a mischievous look over her shoulder at him. “You two can sit up front and bond. Or brood. Whatever it is you do.”
“I was driving anyway, little viper, considering it’s my car and all.” He rolls his eyes.
“Glad to see I’m getting assigned roles,” Nathan mutters under his breath, his tone laced
with dry humor. But I catch the way his hand runs over the back of his neck as he heads for the front passenger seat.
Dylan squeezes my arm lightly as we settle into the back seat, her smile softening. “You good?” she asks under breath, her voice just for me.
I nod, though I can feel the tension still coiled in my chest, the argument I had with Nathan this morning replaying over in my head.
“Yeah,” I whisper back, forcing a small smile.
“Just…ready to get through tonight.” She still doesn’t know the exact details behind how Nathan and I know each other.
I haven’t figured out the best way to approach the subject, so any time she’s asked, I’ve told her it’s complicated and promised to explain when the time was right.
She doesn’t push—much—she’s good like that, but her curious looks have certainly gotten sharper.
She knows I had a brother who died in an accident, but she doesn’t know the full details.
Nobody does, not really. Because even though it was labeled an accident, I know there was more to it than that.
I’ve just never been able to figure out why and when Nathan vanished.
It left me with more questions than answers, not that I’ve ever thought his involvement was malicious.
The rest of the car ride to the club is quiet, the low hum of music from the radio filling the silence.
The men have clearly opted for the brooding option.
When we pull up outside of the club, a place called Ignite, it’s exactly what I expected it to be—loud music, people filtering in and out, and a bright neon sign indicating we’ve arrived at the right place.
Dylan grabs my hand as we step out of the car, her grip grounding me as we start to walk to the entrance, leaving the guys behind.
“You’re with me,” she says firmly, her smile brighter now. “No stress tonight, okay?”
I nod, inhaling deeply and holding it before letting it go. That peace lasts for all of two seconds though as a shrill whistle pierces through the air and Dylan stops us in place. “Let me guess?”
She gives me her best side eye as she nods. “Unfortunately.”
I chuckle. “He’s just as insufferable as ever.” We turn around from where we were about to cross the street from the parking lot to see Fletcher and Nathan striding toward us. The look on Fletcher’s face is one full of quiet concern and a hint of frustration.
“Next time, don’t just walk off like that. You could’ve and should’ve waited for us.” The words are more pointed than I expected, but also not.
“We’re fine, Fletcher. We don’t need a babysitter every time we go out,” Dylan snaps at him, her brow furrowed.
“Yeah?” Fletcher’s voice crops even further, almost like a growl.
“You remember what happened last time I let you wander off on your own? Or have you forgotten what it feels like to be kidnapped?” His eyes flash with the weight of the past, the protective instinct clear in his gaze.
I feel like this is not a conversation I should be present for and try to pull out of Dylan’s grip but she holds onto my arm. Never mind.
Dylan’s eyes soften for a fraction of a second, and though she doesn’t show it outwardly, I can tell the memory still stings. Progress or not, it likely always would. “I haven’t forgotten, Fletcher. But I’m not going to hide from the world just because of what happened.”
I can see the moment he relents as he exhales slowly and takes a step closer. “I get that. I really do. But I can’t help it. I almost lost you once, I won’t let it happen again.”