Tempted Trapped and Too Late to Run novel Chapter 114

She figured Dylan would be back soon, but the next time she saw him was a whole three hours later. He looked awful, his face so pale that his lips stood out in stark red contrast.

Jackson was right there beside him, looking worried sick. "Where are your meds? Where are they?"

Dylan just waved him off, beads of sweat collecting on his nose. Clara watched the whole thing unfold, feeling completely clueless. She quickly opened the car door, hoping to find the meds, but she had no idea what Dylan actually took.

As she kept searching, Jackson roughly pulled her aside. "Move it! Don't waste time."

His tone was sharp as he dug through the car, eventually finding a white bottle. He shook out some pills and tried to get Dylan to take them. You could tell Jackson and Dylan were close; his hands were shaking with fear for Dylan.

But Dylan just turned his head, exhaustion written all over his face. Jackson lost it. "Take them. What on earth are you waiting for?"

Clara was just as anxious. If anything happened to Dylan, she'd be in serious trouble. She definitely couldn’t handle the Ferguson family's fury. She'd be screwed. "Mr. Dylan, do you need anything else? Just say the word, and I’ll get it right away!"

She moved closer to Dylan. Before, she was too scared to look him in the eye, but now she noticed the red streaks in his eyes; he clearly hadn't slept in ages. In her panic, she grabbed his hand. "Mr. Dylan, you don't look well!"

Dylan paused, staring at their entwined hands. Clara was too flustered to notice, but Jackson was instantly furious. "Get your filthy hands off! What do you think you're doing? You can't just hold his hand!"

But before he could, Dylan leaned back a bit, eyes still shut, lips slightly parted. Clara was thrilled and gently fed him the pills.

“Whoa!” The car came to a screeching halt, and Clara was thrown forward, nearly hitting her head when a big hand caught her. Dylan looked up, meeting Jackson’s surprised eyes in the rearview mirror. “Can you drive properly?”

Jackson gripped the steering wheel, muttering after a few seconds, “Not my fault she wasn't wearing a seatbelt.” Feeling a bit guilty, he hit the accelerator again, puzzled by Dylan’s odd attitude toward Clara but unable to figure out why.

Clara felt Dylan's large hand still on her face and quickly pulled away. She grabbed a tissue and wiped his palm as if it had something on it.