Tempted Trapped and Too Late to Run novel Chapter 118

Clara hung up the phone with a decisive click. Only someone like that could see Simon as a gem.

She headed back to Dylan's bedroom, surprised to find the lights already off. For a second, she thought about slipping out and finding a spot to crash for the night. But then a gust of wind blew in from the balcony, and she realized Dylan was out there, not in bed.

Even before she got close, she caught a whiff of smoke. "Mr. Dylan, isn’t smoking bad for your leg?" she asked with genuine concern. Wasn't he still recovering?

The dim glow from the garden cast long shadows, making it tough to see his face clearly. Still, she picked up on something in his eyes—a silent yearning, an unspoken wait—that tugged at her heart.

Maybe visiting Shelly’s grave had him feeling down.

She stood beside him, unsure of what to say. Dylan's presence was subtle, like a breeze—hard to pin down, yet unforgettable.

Out of the corner of her eye, Clara noticed the cigarette perilously close to his fingers. "It's about to burn your fingers," she quickly warned.

Dylan continued to stare into the distance, slowly dropping the cigarette into the ashtray. A red mark on his fingers showed he'd been burned.

Clara instinctively grabbed his wrist and gently blew on the spot. "Is there a first aid kit? Any burn cream? I'll find some."