Dylan (Inked Brotherhood 4)

“Well, I made Miles a promise.” I glare at the boy, who grins at me. “So here I am.”

Dylan’s beautiful mouth twists. “Right. Yeah.” He swallows. “Listen, would you mind taking Teo, too?”

“I’m not the school bus service, Dylan.”

Now color rises in his cheeks, too. His blue eyes flash, and his jaw tightens. “Sorry. Never thought you were. I’ll find another way to get him to kindergarten.” He pushes Miles forward. “Get in, Miles. See you later, buddy.”

I chew on my lip, wondering why I’m being such a bitch to Dylan. Maybe I’m allowed to do so, after he’s pushed me away so many times, but… “What’s up with Teo? Why can’t he take the bus today?”

“Missed the kindergarten bus. We got up late.”

“He got up late,” Teo accuses Dylan, pointing a chubby finger at him, and Dylan’s cheeks turn redder.

He ruffles the kid’s hair. “True. My fault.”

“You’re tired,” Teo tells him in all seriousness, and his small mouth wobbles. “It’s okay.”

“He’s always tired,” Miles says, and worry flashes over his face.

I frown. Something in my chest becomes unbearably tight. It hurts to hear he’s so exhausted. What I want is to get out of the car and hug Dylan with all my strength. I love him so much. I wonder if love like that ever fades away.

“Is it because of work?” I ask. “Is everything okay with you?”

He doesn’t answer, and his eyes look very bright in the gray morning light.

God… “Climb in, boys.” I swallow a sigh. “Let’s get you to school. Do you need me to pick up Teo, too?”

“Nah, school bus brings him right to our doorstep.” Dylan flashes me a bright smile.

For a moment, his expression holds me captive—faint dimples in his cheeks, skin crinkling at his eye corners, a boyish, happy grin—and it makes me want to smile back.

***

Having left both kids at their respective schools, I drive to work where I’m shown to a small desk with an old computer and shown the ropes—like where to make instant coffee, where the toilets are, and—ah yeah, what I’m supposed to do. Gather information, write proposals asking for funding from various organizations, organize the files, set up meetings with heads of different groups based in the country.

It’s fascinating. I read up on both the social program and the archaeological dig, and I can’t remember ever being happier.

Except… Yeah, except when I’m with Dylan, but that doesn’t count. Shouldn’t count.

Which means it does.

I freeze. Isn’t that what he said? ‘I shouldn’t love you.’ Shouldn’t. As if he already does.

That makes no sense at all.

And good God, can I spend two minutes of my life without thinking about Dylan? Thinking and wondering, hoping and hurting.

This is a part-time job, and I’m done even earlier today since it’s the first day and Mr. Walker isn’t there to tell me more about my responsibilities. I grab a sandwich on my way to my car and brave the cold to stop at a small café round the corner and ask if they need a waitress for the afternoons. Turns out they don’t, and truth is I don’t think I’d be good at waiting tables—I’m a bit clumsy and would hate to spill hot drinks on anyone—but I feel better for having tried.

I’ll find something else.

Mom calls my cell as I unlock my car and slip inside, shivering with cold.

“Hey, Mom,” I say warily as I turn on the heater and wait for the air to warm up. “If you’re calling to tell me what a disappointment I am, and how I should stop this foolishness and go apologize to Dad, be a good girl and let Sean hit me and call me names, then this is going to be a very short conversation.”

A strange sound comes over the phone. I’m not sure whether it’s laughter or a sob. “I’m sorry, darling.”

“You’ve said this before, Mom.” What’s going on? “In fact you’ve said it more times in the past few days than I can remember you ever saying it. Are you all right?”