Page 96 of A River of Crows

Sloan leaned away. “Why would I?”

Dylan shrugged. “I thought you had a good visit with your dad. Thought you wanted to build a good relationship.”

Sloan crossed her arms. “The only reason the Hadfields want me there is PR. Because they want the media to see that I’m supporting Dad now.”

“And you don’t want the media to know that? That you support him?”

“I don’t know if I support him. And the Hadfields just want to play like we’re some big happy family. It would be so awkward.”

“Understandable,” Dylan said. “But if you want to be there and don’t want to do it alone, I’ll go with you. Unless that would make it weirder.”

“As much as I’d like to see Felicity’s face when I walk up with you, I’m not up for the rest of it.”

Dylan groaned and threw his head back against the couch. “So, you’d only want me there to make Felicity jealous and not for moral support?”

“A little of both.”

“I really don’t get the thing with Felicity.”

“Sibling rivalry.” Sloan smirked.

“But you didn’t even grow up together.”

“But she got the best of Dad. She was his little girl. She was his real family.”

“That’s really not a healthy—” He stopped and shook his head. “Sorry,” he said. “You need a boyfriend, not a shrink.”

Sloan leaned forward till she was inches from Dylan’s lips. “You’re right. I don’t want a therapist, just you.” Sloan inhaled Dylan’s woodsy cologne and saw the tiny flecks of gold in his deep brown eyes. She needed to forget about last night, about tonight, about Noah, about everything. She pressed her lips against Dylan’s, anchoring her hand to his belt, then slipping a finger beneath the waistline fabric. She deepened the kiss before pulling away. “Come on,” she whispered, standing and offering him her hand.

Dylan hesitated only a moment before he took it and let her lead him into her bedroom. His skin felt hot, feverish.

Sloan closed the door as he sat on the bed. She couldn’t help but notice he looked uncomfortable.

“Everything okay?” she asked.

“Yeah.” Dylan tapped his foot. “Can you turn the light off?”

“Sure.” Sloan flipped the switch before taking a few steps toward her bed. She kissed Dylan again, pushing him gently onto the silk comforter. But when Sloan tried to raise his shirt, he seemed to tense. He stopped kissing back. “Is this about my mom? The door’s locked.” Sloan laughed; it was like she was in high school again, sneaking Noah into her room. Ugh. Stop thinking about Noah.

“It’s nothing,” Dylan said, pulling his shirt off, revealing another T-shirt underneath. “Sorry.” He laughed and removed that one too.

Sloan ran her hands down his chest and brought her lips to his neck. He moaned softly, reaching past a gap between the buttons on her blouse to touch her skin. She fumbled to unbutton her shirt, tossing it behind her.

But when she reached for his belt, Dylan jerked away, pushing his back against the headboard. “I’m sorry,” he huffed. “I can’t.” He reached around him on the bed. “Where’s my shirt?”

Sloan stood and turned on the light, trying to make sense of his rejection. She felt her neck and ears reddening.

When she turned around, she caught sight of Dylan’s back just before he pulled his shirt over it. It was littered with scars. Round ones like cigarette burns and long thin ones like he had been whipped. Dylan picked her shirt up off the floor and handed it to her, keeping his head turned. “I’m sorry,” he said again. “This part is hard for me.”

Sloan slipped her arms into her blouse, holding it closed in front. “Don’t apologize. I didn’t mean to push you. I thought you wanted this.”

“I did want this. I do want this. Please don’t take it personally. Intimacy is just hard for me. I’ve had positive sexual experiences, but my mind mostly goes to the negative, no matter how much my body fights against it.”

Sloan sat beside him, putting her hand on his back, staring at his other shirt still on the floor. It made sense now, why he wore layers even in the heat of summer. “I’m fine with waiting.”

Dylan kept his eyes on the carpet. “I get it if this is a deal-breaker.”

Sloan laughed. “Come on, Dylan. A wife in another town—deal-breaker. Going slow—not a deal-breaker.”