Page 84 of This Beautiful Lie
Dean was stretched out on the couch in the living room, shirt discarded, pajama pants slung low on his hips, towel hanging from his neck like he’d meant to shower when I was done and never quite made it that far. His chest rose and fell in slow, even breaths, his face softened by sleep. He looked younger somehow. Like the boy his family loved to tell stories about.
Something tugged low in my chest.
I pulled a blanket from the chair in the corner and draped it over him, careful not to wake him. George padded over, rope toy hanging from his mouth, and looked between the two of us before letting out a quiet huff.
“Mind your business,” I whispered, scratching behind his ear.
But I knew what he meant.
What we were doing was dangerous.
My throat tightened, and before I could stop myself, I reached out and brushed a strand of hair back from Dean’s forehead. His face turned slightly into my touch, instinctive, but he didn’t wake.
I slipped into the bed a moment later, though sleep didn’t come easily. My heart was still racing, every nerve alive with the memory of his mouth on mine, the storm wrapping around us, the way he’d looked at me like I was the only thing in the world that mattered.
The rain whispered against the windows as I drifted off—into dreams of Dean Weston.
Dreams that felt less like fantasy…
And more like the beginning of something I wasn’t sure I could walk away from, even if I tried.
Twenty-Five
The next morningmy eyes opened to the sound of nails clicking against hardwood. I blinked, heavy-lidded, and saw George prancing in circles near the door. I’d never had a dog before, but his message was crystal clear. He had to go to the bathroom.
My gaze stretched toward the couch, but just like yesterday, Dean was already gone.
I sat up, rubbed over my eyes, and drew a deep breath. George made eye contact with me and scratched again.
“Okay, okay, I’m up.”
I swung my legs over the side of the bed, the floor cool against my feet as I shuffled to my bag. A loose T-shirt, and the first pair of shorts my hand landed on were as much effort as I could muster. My hair was a mess, my face still creased from sleep, but George didn’t seem to care. This time his paw hit the door, and he stared at me, as I slowly dragged the shirt down and into place.
“Okay, I’m hurrying,” I said, shoving my feet into the first pair of sandals I could find.
A few minutes later, I was outside in the damp morning air clipping his leash onto his collar before letting him barrel downthe steps. He dragged me across the porch, straight to a patch of grass a few feet away, and squatted.
I turned away, giving him the privacy he deserved, and tipped my face toward the sky. Morning stretched wide and clear, the kind of blue that felt almost too pure to last. Birds chattered from the treetops, their songs weaving through the hush of pine and damp earth. The air carried that sharp, clean sweetness storms always left behind, and for one fragile heartbeat, it felt like the world was perfect—like if I reached for it, the moment might dissolve in my hands.
George sniffed around as I let my mind wander—back to the firelight, the weight of Dean’s forehead resting against mine, and the kiss that had left me breathless.
Then all of a sudden George’s body went rigid. I followed his line of vision to a bush, where a blur of brown fur darted from one patch of grass to another. George's ears shot up and he tilted his head.
“Oh, no.”
And then he exploded forward, tearing the leash from my hand as he bolted down a mud-covered path after a rabbit.
“GEORGE! STOP!” I yelled. But he didn’t stop. He didn’t look back. He didn’t evenconsiderlistening to me.
Branches whipped at my arms as I sprinted after him, sandals sliding on the damp earth, George tearing through the clearing up ahead of me. His ears flying, paws pounding, absolutely thrilled with himself.
“GEORGE! YOU MENACE! GET BACK HERE!” I shouted, half-gasping, half-laughing. “I am not built for this!”
But George didn’t care. George was a creature after his own destiny. And apparently, destiny involved giving me a heart attack before breakfast.
I rounded a bend?—
And slammed straight into a wall of heat and muscle.
