Page 158 of Dirty Like Dylan

I didn’t know how or when or if he was going to talk to Dylan about any of this, but I knew, either way, I had to take a step back. Bow out of the equation and let them work this out—whatever it was between them—first. No matter how long it took.

They were best friends long before I ever met them, and Ashley was probably in love with Dylan long before I ever was, too. They were sharing women and complicating things between the two of them long before I got all twisted up in it, and I had no business in the middle of it, complicating things any worse than they already were.

Especially when I didn’t even want to be in the middle of it anymore.

I knew right now, hearing those words, that I didn’t.

He came in my face…

And somehow, I wasn’t in the middle anymore. It felt like Dylan and I had somehow switched positions and now everything was out of balance.

Or maybe I was never in the middle at all.

I hugged my cardigan tighter around my waist and looked away. “It’s cold out here. I should get dressed. Can you still take me into the city today?”

“Yeah,” he said. “Of course.”

I nodded and started toward the house, but Ashley’s voice stopped me.

“What if I tell him,” he asked me, “and it doesn’t work out?”

I turned to face him. “What if it does? What if it’s the best thing you ever had?” These were questions I’d been asking myself a lot lately—about Dylan and myself. “Isn’t that what’s really got you so scared?”

Chapter Thirty-One

Amber

After lunch, Ashley gave me a ride into the city in his boat. Then he drove me to Jessa Mayes’ baby shower in his truck. And I barely knew what to say to him.

I tried not to insult us both by making small talk. Ashley wasn’t a small talk type of person, and neither was I. We’d shared comfortable silences before, but this time I couldn’t get comfortable at all.

I kept silently berating myself for my advice to him. Objectively, honesty was decent advice. But it was advice I really should’ve been taking myself.

Where did I get off telling Ashley he should bare his soul to Dylan when I didn’t even have the courage to do it myself?

Just like Ashley, I was afraid to tell Dylan how I felt about him. What I hoped to have with him. Somehow, the fact that the guy was so damn laid-back about everything only made it seem harder.

Before I met Dylan Cope, I might’ve thought it would be easier to pour my guts out to a person like that. Not so. Ashley was incredibly easier to open up to. I could predict his responses, and I knew he’d pull no punches with exactly what he thought. At least I would know where I stood with him the second the words were out of my mouth; sooner, even.

But Dylan?

The man had very possibly spent years pretending he didn’t notice his best friend was in love with him, and politely tolerating his affections, out of some misguided desire to spare him pain.

I cringed just thinking about it.

What if he’d been tolerating my affections for the same reason? Because he was just too damn polite to brush me off or tell me that the end was coming?

What if Ashley was wrong, when he’d texted me that Dylan was in love with me? Dylan had said we should talk about it. But we still hadn’t done that. Thanks to me avoiding the subject.

But then again, he’d avoided it, too.

Worse, what if his reaction to me opening my heart to him was the same as my reaction to Ashley? What if I was just an enjoyable kink to Dylan, but not much more?

Oh, Jesus.

Poor Ashley.

By the time we pulled into the driveway of the old heritage house in Dunbar, I was pretty wound up about it. But what could I do? I’d just have to get in line, behind Ashley, and wait my turn. If it turned out what Dylan wanted was Ashley, I’d have to deal with it. If not… I’d just have to woman-up and tell Dylan how I felt about him… and hope he felt the same.

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