Page 88 of Heartland

“Do they say that?” I ask. “I thought you were the smart, accomplished one.”

“I wear many hats.”

We both laugh. This is probably the most fun I’ve had with my sister in a long time. Until she asks me one more question.

“What does Chastity think about your stance on dating?”

“I don’t know. Why?”

Daphne gives me a sideways glance. “Have you considered breaking your rule for Chastity?”

“No,” I say quickly. “Because that never ends well. If we break up, I lose a good friend. Not to mention all the people who will hate that idea. Leah and Isaac. Griffin. Mom.”

“So you won’t date her because you don’t want to disappoint her?”

“Yes,” I say. “That’s exactly why.”

She grabs another box and shakes her head. “I don’t know Dylan. It sounds like you already have.”

Well, fuck. That’s a depressing idea. “You always know what to say to a guy.”

“It’s my superpower,” she agrees.

Twenty-Seven

Dylan

I giveChastity the space she needs. Until Wednesday comes and goes with no call from her, I’m a very patient man.

If by “patient” you mean irritable, grumpy and generally hard to be around.

“It’s algebra night,” I complain to Rickie and Keith as we eat dinner together in the living room. “She didn’t call.”

“I noticed that,” Rickie says, shoving another bite of lentil curry into his mouth.

“You did? Why?”

Rickie shakes his head. “Because you’ve spent the week moping around the house, checking your phone every few minutes.”

“It’s making me crazy.” And I mean that in so many ways. I’m worried about Chastity. I’m worried about our friendship.

But at the same time, I can’t help remembering the heat of her kiss. Every time I close my eyes, I’m back in her bed, tasting her skin, hearing her moan.

Not only am I horny as fuck, but I feel like an asshole. That night turned into an experience she regrets, but my libido can’t leave it alone.

I just need to see her and talk to her and calm the fuck down, whether that means going back to the way things used to be, or explaining just how naked I want us to get so we can give it another try.

She’d never want that, though.

Would she?

“That’s it.” I stand up, grabbing my empty plate and stepping over Rickie’s feet. “I have to get out of here.”

“There’s people coming over,” Rickie says. “I’m making a rum punch. Chill out and have some drinks. You’ll feel better.”

“I won’t,” I admit. “I got some things I need to take care of.”

* * *