Chapter 20 – Dylan
CHAPTER TWENTY
DYLAN
You walked away.
You left me there.
You made me feel as if you didn’t care.
How can this be?
How can we love?
How can we . . .
“Grrr,” I growl in frustration and stare at the last line I’ve jotted on the page in front of me. I can’t get it right and it’s driving me crazy.
I squeeze my eyes shut as the pounding outside begins yet again.
He’s been swinging his hammer for over two hours. It’s an oddly soothing rhythm in the background to my work, which is as comforting as it is harsh.
But it does nothing to combat the sudden conflict roiling around within me. The overthinking that is messing up my creative process. Sure, what happened last night was pleasurable in so many ways I lost count. After being with Jett, who I thought rocked my world in bed, he doesn’t hold a candle to the unexpectedness of the man I was with last night. It’s enough to throw a girl for a loop.
No, not a loop—a tangled mess of rope with frayed ends that are twisted and gnarled together.
I watch him hammer another nail in place. Hating the confusion I have and wondering if he feels it, too. Is he as uncertain about where we go from here or is he already done and over it like most guys would be?
Was last night a one-off moment for him?
Am I the new Mallory to him? Stop in when I come in from out of town for a no-strings-attached lay?
I’m more than aware that Grady Malone does not do strings-attached. Or rather that’s what the locals have said the few times I’ve gone into town. Even though I’ve tried to keep to myself, curiosity goes a long way in a small town. Innocent introductions in the grocery store or post office turn into subtle probing about what I’m doing in Sunnyville and why I’m living with Grady Malone. The Grady Malone who used to be wild but now is tame and most definitely doesn’t stick with one woman for more than a few dates. Where does that leave me other than in the middle of an awkward situation I never should have gotten myself into?
My God. I’m sitting here thinking that last night meant something when I’m sure it was nothing more than a sudden urge on both our parts to release the tension having Jett around has created.
Didn’t I say yes to him knowing that was the situation? Didn’t I agree to sex because getting involved with someone is the last thing I need right now?
All I can do is laugh at myself though because while I may have convinced myself I could separate sex and emotion last night, is it too soon to admit to myself that I might be developing teeny, tiny feelings for him?
I’m sure those feelings were helped along when he unexpectedly opened up to me this morning and let me in a little. When he dropped his playful demeanor and was honest with me about the fire.
And then he shut me out and hasn’t said another word since. Shouldn’t his total indifference be my clue that he thinks sleeping together was a mistake?
Did I make an error in judgment as well?
Stop staring.
Stop thinking.
Start writing.
There’s a big difference between one night of sex and emotions. The two can be separated.
I can separate them .
Then why do I keep trying to make myself believe that?
There’s an odd ache in my chest when I look at him one last time before moving from the window.
I have at least two months here before I return to Los Angeles. Not for a recording session but to go back home for good. If last night was a mistake, that’s a long time to avoid someone when you’re sharing the same space. If it wasn’t, that’s a super long time to keep emotions and sex in separate corners.