Tempted Trapped and Too Late to Run

*

Inside the Moonlight private room, things were winding down. Jackson and

Richard had already left, one after the other. Tara turned to Dylan with a sweet little smile. "Dylan, I still have something you gave me ages ago. If you give me a ride home, I'll give it back to you, okay?"

Dylan didn't even look her way, his eyes glued to the scenery outside. "Get in the car."

Tara hopped in beside him. "I haven't got my own place yet, so I'm still crashing at the Warren house. Just wait for me outside, I'll grab your thing and be right back."

He knew she was baiting him, but he couldn't help being curious about that "thing."

"Alright," he said.

The car rolled quietly toward the Warren estate. Tara sat beside him, smart enough to keep quiet the whole way. No need to leave a bad impression-there'd be plenty of time for that later.

They pulled up outside the big house. Tara got out first, tossing a quick, "Give me ten minutes, tops," over her shoulder.

She hurried inside and almost ran straight into Mrs. Ferguson, who was heading upstairs for the night.

Mrs. Ferguson shot her a curious look. "You didn't come back with your brother?" Richard had just gotten home, and Tara showed up right after-why weren't they together?

Jogging up the stairs, Tara called back, "Dylan drove me home!"noveldrama

Technically, Tara and Richard were only cousins, but after growing up together in the Warren household, they were as close as brother and sister.

Tara darted into her room, found the little box, and headed out again-only to bump into Richard in the hallway.

He had a cigarette pinched between his fingers and his jacket slung over his shoulder. "Where are you rushing off to?"

"Dylan's waiting outside," she said, not slowing down.

He didn't say anything else.

Tara clutched the little box and hurried out to Dylan's car. "Here," she said, handing it over. "You gave me this a long time ago. I'm returning it."

Dylan took the box and nodded, not bothering to open it right away.

Aiden, sitting up front, caught the vibe and started the car, driving them away from the Warren house.

Tara wasn't discouraged. She had plenty of little boxes like that—there would be more chances.

As the car sped through the night, Dylan finally opened the box. Inside was a ring, carefully folded from paper. He unfolded it, revealing a single handwritten line:

-Dylan will definitely marry Tara.

There was even a tiny smiley face doodled in the corner.

Teenage secrets, a girl's hidden feelings-every word was poetry.

He looked out the window. The air was getting warmer-spring was here, and the trees along the road were already blooming.

He only glanced at the flowers before looking back at the words on the paper. She really was like a burst of sunshine.

"Foolish little brother, no one wants to live in the dark forever."

"One day you'll have your own name. Live for me, okay?"

"My name will be yours. You can... finally live out in the open now."

Dylan closed his eyes and leaned back against the seat.

The car soon stopped at Palm Bay. He quietly folded the paper back up and tucked it into the compartment beside him.

Clara waited until ten o'clock before she heard any noise from outside.

She watched the door. Sure enough, Dylan was finally back.

She heard the soft whir of his wheelchair as he rolled closer. They made eye contact for a few seconds before he asked, "Are you feeling better?"

Clara had spent most of the afternoon sleeping. She nodded.

He headed toward the elevator, but she called after him, "Are you in a bad mood?"

The wheelchair stopped. Dylan looked back at her.

Clara pointed to the corner of her own mouth. "When you're upset, this part

droops. Did Mrs. Ferguson give you a hard time?"

He didn't answer.

She raised her eyebrows and casually tossed a piece of candy at him.

He caught it without even looking.

Inside, Clara was honestly thrilled. Dylan seemed so troubled-maybe he really was about to marry

vara.

That meant her time as a prisoner was almost over.

Finally.

Still, she needed to play it cool, just in case she pushed his buttons.

"Don't be so hard on yourself," she said. "Being born a Ferguson... you never really get to make your own choices."

Dylan stared down at the candy in

his palm, then slowly

and popped it in his mouth. His tone was flat. "There won't be a divorce."

Clara's smile faltered. She sat up a little straighter. "Wait, you mean..."

The sound of his wheelchair faded as he moved away, but his voice was clearer than ever.

"Clara, for us, the only ending is 'til death do us part.”