Page 40 of Love.V2 (Occupational Hazards #2)

Tess

I woke up and, for a clouded, dizzy moment, thought I was back in Nashville.

But that wasn’t right.

I was in Chicago, on crisp hotel sheets that crinkled when Dylan rolled away, drawn like a moth to flame toward that familiar, abhorrent ringtone.

Everything in the room was dark, but the screen illuminated his face. He winced, the lights probably burning his retinas.

“Hello?”

I blinked. Another moment, another flashback. I was living in two worlds. Nashville, tense, hating every moment that Dylan wasn’t next to me where he should be. Chicago, confused, but happy. Waiting for him to return to me, like we’d promised.

Only he didn’t.

“What?” he hissed, and the leftover cobwebs of sleep cleared from my brain. “You’re sure?”

My heart pumped once, thudded. Something wasn’t right. Dylan shoved to his feet .

“They…right, yes. Yes, right.” He yanked the charger out of his phone, beelining to the closet. I sat up, clutching the sheets to my naked chest.

“Are you okay?” I whispered when Dylan threw his suitcase on the bed, shoving it open. I thought he glanced at me in the dark, but I couldn’t be sure.

“You’ll have to shut down the client updates…yeah. Shit, we have to talk about China.”

My face screwed up, trying to follow all the work words spilling out of his mouth. China? When was the last time he’d said anything about the foreign markets?

When he’d worked at Worther . I bit my lip, reminding myself that he still worked at Worther.

Some of the initial panic subsided. At least it wasn’t an emergency with his family. Right? He wouldn’t be talking about client updates if it was his family…

“Is it the twins? Your dad?” I hissed in the dark, just to make sure. Dylan’s head shook sharply once before he returned to his conversation, throwing clothes and electronics into the suitcase.

“…on a flight in about an hour. Yeah, text me the confirmation number.”

I stilled at his words before leaping out of bed. What the fuck was happening? What time was it? I scrambled to the couch where I’d dropped my phone last night, tapping the screen to life.

Four a.m.

I blinked at the sound of the zipper winding its way closed.

Dylan was still talking about markets and emails and board members.

I sank onto the bed, waiting. He didn’t even glance in my direction, rushing around the room and peeking into his briefcase, shoving his legs into a pair of jeans without his phone leaving his ear.

“Hold on,” he murmured to whoever he was talking to.

Finally . I leaned forward as he muted the phone, glancing at me. He’d turned the bathroom light on, and I could see his face. He looked…numb. Distracted.

“I have to go. To Nashville. I’m not going to make the Botto meeting tomorrow.”

My blood froze. “What?”

“I’m sorry, Tess, but I know you’ll knock it out of the park.”

I sucked in a breath. Why was he talking about the Botto presentation like it mattered? Didn’t he realize there were so many other things to talk about right at this moment? Namely, why he was walking out the door in a frenzy at four a.m.?

“Is everything okay?” What more could I ask? That seemed like the first thing to get out of the way before I grabbed onto his leg and held on so he couldn’t leave.

“It’s…I…” His eyes darted over my face, then back to his phone. I curled into myself, acutely aware of the fact that I was completely naked.

He rubbed at his brow. “I can’t get into it right now.” He paused, conflicted. “Trust me when I tell you, Tess, I wouldn’t be leaving if I didn’t absolutely have to. Do you believe me?”

Would I believe the Dylan from eight months ago? Absolutely not.

Now, though? I thought about our lists. His obsession with crafting me the perfect latte. His promise last night .

I’m not going anywhere .

“I believe you.” The words rasped out of me, and I could only hope I actually meant them.

Dylan sagged, as if his knees had literally weakened for a moment. “Thank you,” he whispered, leaning forward to press a kiss into my forehead. “Stay in the room for as long as you want. There’s a key on the entry table. I’ll…I’ll call you. If I can. Just…Tess, please…trust me.”

His plea traveled all the way across the room. He was already opening the door, rolling his suitcase through.

“Okay,” I whispered to no one as the door swung shut with a soft snick.

I crossed my arms over my chest in the cold room, glancing around and wondering what the hell had just happened.

And why did it feel like two hundred steps backwards?