“Fletcher?” Shock rocks through my core forcefully enough that I feel like my legs are going to buckle beneath me.
“I know you better than anyone, Dylan. I’m the one person you have left in this world that knows everything about you. I know your morning routine, the way you have to snooze your alarm three times before dragging yourself out of bed. I know that your favorite book isThe Bell Jarand that you used to carry around a worn copy in your school bag. I remember you telling me that you liked it because you could relate to how the main character struggled with a sense of belonging. I know you’re afraid of the dark, not because of the dark itself, but what lurks beyond it. I know that you throw yourself into things because it’s easier than focusing on your trauma—the fact that you didn’t have a mother who cared enough about you to stay clean during her pregnancy. Or why don’t we talk about how lonely you felt when your dad was away, but you didn’t feel like you could tell anyone because it was his one way of supporting you?
“I know your most embarrassing moment, and all about your vulnerabilities—the self-doubt, hoping that through all of your hard work, it would make you good enough. That's why you seek to have control. Because if you have control you can’t get hurt. You’ve always tried to overcompensate by being perfect because you felt like if you were, nobody would bother to look below the surface and see who is really there. But I see you. I see the cracks beneath the polished facade. And do you want to know something else, little viper?” He breathes in deeply, his hand releasing my arms from above my head. “I know that you pretend to want normal—thehouse with the picket fence, the boyfriend that will give youjust becausegifts, a boring nine-to-five that’ll actually leave you miserable. But you don’t, you never have, you just tell yourself you do because it’s what everybody else would expect. You crave something more. It’s always been hidden there under your glass skin, waiting for something to crash into it and break it free. You want the passion, the fire, the kind of life that doesn’t fit into neat boxes because that’s exactly what you’ve had, and you refuse to admit it makes you unhappy. That’s why nothing has ever felt just right. So tell me again how I don’t know you? Tell me how that little boyfriend of yours could possibly know you better?”
The hand that he had released from holding me against the door grazes down my side, leaving a scorch of heat in its wake. My rational mind is screaming at me to push him away, but his words have drawn me in. I’m rattled and I’m repulsed by his intensity… I’m also surprised at the level of detail he’s paid to my life… but he’s still Fletcher. He’s still my dad’s best friend, older and off limits in all the ways that count. “This isn’t normal. This isn’t the you that I remember.”
He tilts his head, weighing my words. “Normal is boring, little viper. You need someone to take care of you… all alone in the world. Your dad, he always told me to watch out for you if anything ever happened to him.”
“But not like this. This isn’t what he would’ve wanted.” I try to step away from him but he blocks my way, an immovable force.
“It might not be what he wanted, but it’s what you need,” he growls out, and I hate that I feel this pull towards him. As if he’s known the truth all along and has been waiting for me to admit it. As if he’s the only one with the key to desires even I haven’t discovered yet. “I just want what’s best for you, Dylan. I always have. These… boys, they are never going to get you like I do… never care for you like I can. You need a man. When I take you, Dylan… because it is when…” His voice is low, rough, and dripping with a heat that coils in my stomach. He leans in, his lips so close to my ear that his breath brushes against my skin, sending shivers down my spine. “It won’t be gentle. I won’t hold back. I’ll give you everything I am, and I’ll take everything you have to give. No reservations, no apologies. These boys wouldn’t know how to touch you the way I’m going to touch you. They wouldn’t know how to fuck you the way I’m going to fuck you. I’m going to erase every trace of them from your skin.”
My knees threaten to give out beneath me, the intensity in his eyes pinning me in place. There’s nothing soft in his gaze now, only raw, unrelenting hunger that makes my pulse race and my breath falter. “I don’t do half-measures, Dylan,” he continues, his tone dark and filled with promise. “And when it’s us, when I finally have you, you’ll feel every ounce of it. Every. Single. Thing.” I swallow hard, trying to form words, but my mind is a haze, caught between the thrill of his words and the ache of his retreat as he pulls back slightly. His lips quirk into a crooked smile, dangerous and knowing, as if he can see every thought racing through my head. “But not yet,” he says, his voice softening but no less commanding. He steps away, the sudden distance leaving me cold and wanting, but his parting words hit me like a bolt of lightning. “When the time comes, Dylan, you won’t question what I want. You’ll feel it, and you’llbegfor it.”
I’m stuck in between silence and the torment of dialogue I want to throw at him. But before I can, he leaves me with one more piece of tantalizing conversation. “If you don’t stop seeing him, little viper, you aren’t going to like what happens next.” And then he is gone, stepping out into the cold night air before I can say anything at all, leaving me with conflicting feelings despite the violation. How I was going to reconcile this Fletcher with the Fletcher I grew up around, I had no idea. I should still call the cops, because this man is a stranger. His actions are terrifying, and yet the strings connecting our past are like a psychological pull I can’t ignore. Not when he’s made it clear he isn’t going to leave well enough alone.
Chapter
Nineteen
DYLAN
Ididn’t end up going to sleep for the rest of the night, my mind reeling and anxiety spiraling. Instead, I sat on the couch, Alaska a welcome presence against my side as the silence of the room overwhelmed me. I had known Fletcher for as long as I could remember; the last time I had seen him was when I was fourteen years old. Fletcher had been twenty-eight, and at that time he had been like family—he was a constant in my life from the time I was seven years old when he had been assigned under my father after he enlisted. He had offered a level of stability in my life that I hadn’t had because of my mother’s absence. He seemed to understand my grief better than I did when I would wonder why I didn’t have a mom like all of the other kids my age. He was an extension of our family, someone I could lean on when everything else felt uncertain.
I’ve never had a reason to question his presence in my life, there was never a reason to think about boundaries. He had always been kind, steady, and protective—but I wonder now if that protective nature had gone a bit too far. I know for a fact that his concern has always been genuine, but now that I’m looking at it with the information I have… there are moments I can look back on where maybe his attentiveness, the interest in my life, was a littletoomuch. I replayed those memories in my mind, over and over until the early hours of the morning when the sun began to rise over the horizon.
He never started asking about boyfriends until the last year I saw him, but when he did it was always with more curiosity than any other family member or friend should have. I remember now how his eyes would linger a second too long when we spoke. But I’d never had a reason to think twice about it. He was just… Fletcher, to me. My dad’s best friend, someone who had pretty much always been there. But now I can’t help but think what if his interest had been something more than just caring. It was the little things—how he would show up when I needed someone to talk to, or if I needed comfort after something significant happened in my life. His presence had never been intrusive, but looking back it felt as though he had made sure he was always a part of my life, always available to catch me when I stumbled. I hadn’t thought of it that way before. He wasn’t trying to control me or limit my options, he just wanted to be there for me. However, I wonder if his desire to always protect me, to be the first one to offer help, was just a way of keeping me close.
None of it felt malicious—feels malicious—even now. Not in the way I had first feared. Lines had definitely been blurred though, with how Fletcher had made himself such an integral part of my life, and how easily I had come to rely on him. The idea of trust had always been simple: he was safe, he was family. But now that trust felt complicated, tangled in the realization that Fletcher’s affection, his devotion, might have been more about a closeness that he had always wanted to protect, but in a way that wasn’t always healthy.
I close my eyes, trying to make sense of it all. Fletcher wasn’t predatory, isn’t predatory, not in the way most would think. I know that much. But I also understand that the love and protection he had offered me, while real, had come with an intensity that I hadn’t fully recognized until now. And it made me question whether our relationship, built over years of familiarity and care, had always been a little bit too close for comfort. I didn’t know whether to continue tofeel betrayed or entertain the way my body seems to respond to him. But is it possible that I’m only responding this way because of the power he holds over me, the history we share complicating that?
I’m thankful it’s Sunday because I’m not sure if I would be able to focus on anything else. How am I supposed to justendthings with Callum? He would know that something is up and would ask me for details, and I don’t know how to give him any without putting his life in danger—or further danger. I have no doubt that if I brought this to his attention he would try to take things into his own hands, and I can’t be responsible or have it on my conscience if anything were to happen to him. Which leaves me between a rock and a hard place. Could I talk to Thea about this? I don’t even know where to begin with trying to explain the full weight of the situation.
His words echo in my mind, sinking deeper than the last.When the time comes, Dylan, you won’t question what I want. You’ll feel it, and you’ll beg for it.I can barely breathe at the thought. His voice, low and controlled, lingers in the air like smoke. I’ve never felt this helpless, this exposed, yet the dark promise in his words… I stand up, trying to steady myself but his gaze penetrates my mind. The emerald of his eyes, the way they glimmered with the beauty of a serpent’s gaze, promising nothing but danger. It won’t let me go. He’s in my head, pulling my strings, making me question things that should’ve never been a question in the first place: control, power,desire.
The ache of his retreat leaves a chill in its wake, a cruel reminder that I’m alone in the tension between us. And yet, there’s something intoxicating about the distance, something in the way his words keep me tethered to him as he’s gone. His promise is still there, hanging between us like a challenge, and part of me already knows that when it happens, when the time comes, I won’t have the strength to resist. I’ll beg. And I’ll want it. Just like he said I would. And somehow, that thought—frightening as it is—thrills me more than I care to admit.
I wakeup later to several missed calls and text messages from both Thea and Callum alike. I had made my way to my room some hours earlier and must have fallen asleep due to my sleepless night and the adrenaline dump aftermath. Thea’s messages are more regarding if I wanted to catch up on the phone at some point this week and then harassing me for not responding to her. Callum’s on the other hand is making sure that I didn’t regret anything that was done between us the night before because he hadn’t heard from me. I know that I should break it off with him now, use it as an excuse to end it so he doesn’t get physically hurt… but damnit. I don’t want Fletcher to ruin the one good thing I’ve had in a while. So, stupidly I text him back with reassurance, immediately regretting it because I know I’m being selfish. I try to unsend it but it’s too late—Callum has read it, and bubbles pop up on the screen showing me that he’s replying.
Good to hear from you, love. I was getting worried that I might have scared you off. I hope we can talk more about last night soon. I haven’t been able to stop thinking about you – Callum xo
I can hear the relief in his words, a touch of his lilt accentuating them as he seeks to find some sense of reassurance, and it makes my stomach turn. What will Fletcher do if he finds out I didn’t end things with him? What will he do if he sees us together, knowing I’m not heeding his warning? He wouldn’t actually…killhim, would he? But I realize that I don’t know the answer to that and that terrifies me equally. I feel my phone buzz again. Another text, this time from Thea.
I know you have some saucy first week of college classes in person tea to spill. Text me back, bitch!
I roll my eyes, half smiling at her persistence, because if only she knew the half of it. This entire situation has just gone from bad to worse. I need to figure out what to do, what to say, how to let him down without ruining what little connection we’ve had. Because we aren’t only seeing each other, but we work together, and the last thing I want to do is find another place to work to prevent things from being awkward. I want to text Thea back but the bubble from Callum pops up again. Another message:
If you need space, I understand. Just please don’t shut me out. I can’t bear the thought of you not talking to me.
He’s more in tune with my mind right now than I thought he would be, my previous message to him being perhaps more quick and abrasive than I’d like. I stare at the words, unsure of how to respond. Every word feels like a line pulling me deeper into something I should never have let myself fall into in the first place. But I can’t help it. I want to keep him close as much as I know I should push him away. I have plenty of excuses I could come up with, but I don’t. I tap out another quick response, hoping it’s enough to ease his worries, to hold him off for a little longer, but guilt gnaws on me as I hit send. Maybe it’s better to have this conversation in person anyway, so I send another message asking if we can do exactly that, to which he gladly says yes.
An hour later, we’re sitting in a booth at a twenty-four seven diner, the fluorescent lights casting a sterile glow around us despite the daylight still shining through the windows. Callum sits across from me, his face a mix of concern and curiosity as his eyes rest on my own like a weight. The silence sits between us as both of us wait for the other person to say something. He breaks the silencefirst. “I can’t help but think that maybe you were being dishonest with me earlier when I asked if everything was alright. If we did anything last night that pushed it too far, or…”
Shaking my head, I cut him off. “It’s not that, truly. Far from it. It’s just been a while for me since I’ve had anything with anyone, and there are a lot of things in my life right now that are complicated to say the least.” At least that much was true, between my dad’s death and the discovery of my stranger, of Fletcher.
He nods, his eyes searching mine as if trying to decipher what’s left unsaid. “I get that. But if you ever want to talk, I’m here. You know that right? If you feel like we’re taking things too fast, I won’t take it personally. You’re worth the wait.”