Tempted Trapped and Too Late to Run novel Chapter 421

The receptionist was sorting out the check-in, adding, “There was a huge pile-up today with over a dozen cars. The roads won’t be cleared for a while.”

Clara glanced around the lobby. It was warm enough here; she could probably crash for the night.

But the receptionist seemed to sense her thoughts and sighed, “Ms. Clara, there might be a power outage tonight. When that happens, it gets freezing in here. The rooms have old fireplaces, burn wood, and they’re quite cozy.”

With that in mind, turning it down would be like giving Dylan a cold shoulder.

She sneaked a look at Dylan.

He was in his wheelchair, head slightly tilted, not seeming to notice anything that had just happened.

Quickly, she pushed his wheelchair. "Thanks. We'll head to our room."

When they reached the room, Clara saw it was about 600 square feet. There was a fireplace, a chair, a bed, and a tiny bathroom. That was it.

The bathroom was also cramped, barely 20 square feet.

It reminded her of the time on the island with Dylan, where the bathroom was just as tight. They had to squeeze in shoulder to shoulder just to wash their hands.

Back on the island, Dylan had...

She couldn't help but think of his outburst and quickly shook those thoughts away.

“Mr. Dylan, do you want to freshen up first? I’ll just text my boyfriend real quick.”

She sat on the only chair in the room.

The chair was ridiculously small. She thought she could maybe sleep on it, but clearly, that was out of the question now.

Dylan slowly stood up, using the wall for support, aiming for the bathroom.

But his steps were shaky. After just one step, he stopped and frowned.

Clara, who had been texting her editor Z, saw this and quickly put her phone down.

“Is your leg still not fully healed?”

Shouldn’t it be fine by now? Why did it still look so bad?

He turned his head away, one hand lightly on the wall. "I've been dealing with insomnia, no time for rehab."

Clara suddenly remembered she had promised to help with his insomnia as a way to repay him. But with everything happening with Eden, she’d forgotten about it. Since Dylan hadn’t reached out, she assumed he found a solution on his own.

She held his arm, intending to tell him to take it easy, but the next second, he stumbled and fell against her.

Clara stumbled back, her back hitting the wall, their chests pressed together.

She frowned, noticing his pale face, and quickly asked, “Are you okay?”

He murmured, “Sorry.”

Clara was momentarily speechless. Someone as proud as Dylan probably hated showing vulnerability in front of others.

“It’s okay, let me help you in.”

The tiny bathroom felt even smaller with both of them in it.

She even turned on the faucet for him.

Dylan leaned over, splashing water on his face, his hair getting wet.