Page 65 of The Equation of Us

“I should probably go,” I say, understanding the situation. “Give you guys some space.”

He doesn’t argue, which tells me I’m right. “I’ll walk you back.”

“You don’t have to do that,” I say. “Your brother—”

“Will be fine for twenty minutes.” Dean reaches for his hoodie. “I want to.”

The simple statement, combined with the protective gesture, creates a warmth in my chest I’m not ready to examine too closely.

We walk through the quiet campus together, the night air cool against my skin. He keeps a respectable distance between us—anyone seeing us would assume we’re just friends or classmates—but there’s an intimacy in the silence we share, in the occasional brush of his arm against mine.

“I’m sorry about tonight,” he says finally.

“Don’t be,” I repeat. “Family comes first.”

He glances at me, something unreadable in his expression. “Logan doesn’t usually show up unannounced. Dad’s remarriage is… complicated.”

“I gathered.” I hesitate, then add, “He seems like a good kid.”

“He is.” Dean’s voice softens. “Too good, sometimes. Takes things too hard.”

“Unlike his stoic older brother?” I tease gently.

A small smile touches his lips. “We have different coping mechanisms.”

“Let me guess—yours involves control, precision, and extreme compartmentalization.”

His eyebrows lift slightly. “You’ve been analyzing me, Shaw.”

“It’s what I do,” I say with a shrug. “And you’re not exactly subtle.”

He laughs, a genuine sound that sends warmth through me. “Fair enough.”

We reach my dorm entrance too quickly. Dean stops, looking down at me with an expression I can’t quite read in the dim light.

“Another time?” he asks, his voice low.

“Definitely,” I agree, meaning it.

He hesitates, glancing around to ensure we’re alone, then leans down to press a brief but firm kiss to my lips. “Text me when you’re inside.”

“I will.”

He starts to turn away, then pauses. “Nora?”

“Yeah?”

“Sleep well.”

“Goodnight, Dean.”

I watch him walk away, his tall figure disappearing into the shadows, before turning to enter my building. As I climb the stairs to my floor, I find myself smiling despite the interrupted evening. Tonight wasn’t what either of us planned, but I saw parts of Dean I might never have seen otherwise—the protective older brother, the surrogate father, the boy who once made charts to track his hockey progress.

The man behind the carefully controlled exterior.

And somehow, that glimpse feels more intimate than anything physical we might have shared.

Chapter Twenty-Three

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