Page 2 of Peripheral Vision (Tethered in Darkness Duet #1)

Chapter

One

DYLAN

“ D ylan.”

“Dylan.”

“Earth to Dylan.” A hand waves in front of my face as I blink away my thoughts. “Where’d you go?” Thea asks, concern written all over her face.

Thea is one of my oldest friends on base, and she also happens to be my neighbor across the street.

We met when Dad and I relocated here during our last move.

She’s also one of the only friends that I’ve ever been sad about leaving, but we’ve already agreed to keep in touch—Virginia Tech isn’t too far away, after all.

But she has to stay because she’s already married with a baby on the way.

I can’t even think about being in a relationship, let alone settling down.

“Sorry, I just have a lot on my mind.” I take a sip of my coffee and set it back down on the table of the cafe we’re sitting in.

“That’s understandable. Is there anything I can do for you?”

“No. You have enough to focus on, and even if you could, I have no idea where to start. I just need to get through a week at a time.” I take another sip .

“I’m sorry I won’t be there for his funeral. You know I would have, if?—”

“I know,” I cut her off. “I know.” Thea has an appointment the day of my dad’s funeral, otherwise she would have ridden with me.

She offered to reschedule it, but it’s her anatomy scan and I told her she needs to focus on her family, as much as I would want her there. Speaking of… “How are you feeling?”

“I won’t lie, I know what I signed up for when I married Lucas.

But having to do most of this alone, with the exception of having you here of course, is hard.

I can’t help but be envious of all the women whose partners are able to go to every appointment with them and be able to sit together and plan out what color palette to paint the nursery, or what brand of diapers to buy.

It actually makes me nauseous because I would never have been the type to worry about those things.

Stupid fucking hormones.” She shakes her head, her black curls bouncing, and I snort.

Just as I’m about to respond, the door to the coffee shop swings open, and from where I’m sitting it gives me a direct view of the tallest man I have ever seen.

Thea follows my gaze and her jaw visibly drops.

“Holy shit, he’s huge. And hot.” The man still wearing his sunglasses swings his gaze toward us and I stop breathing.

“Thea,” I hiss as I turn back to look at her. “Could you have been any more obvious?” The man smirks and shuts the door before walking to the counter.

“Like I said, stupid fucking hormones. And leave me alone, I’m pregnant. I get a pass. Besides, it didn’t seem like he minded the compliment too much.”

“You’re incorrigible. He looks old enough to be our dad.” I playfully smack her arm.

“I’d call him daddy all day long.”

“ THEA ,” I gasp, my cheeks heating.

She chuckles. “I’m joking. I’m just trying to get you to lighten up some. You could use a good laugh in light of everything you have going on. ”

“Well, you’re doing a terrible job. Don’t make a career out of it.” I giggle, sending a wink her way as I stand up. Whatever level of heaviness that briefly lifted begins to settle back down as I continue, “I’ve got to get going, I need to go pick out my dress for the funeral.”

“I thought you had a dress?”

“Well, I did but turns out I don’t have the same scrawny body my sixteen-year-old self did. It ripped right up the side as soon as I leaned forward to grab something.” I shrug.

“Be thankful for it, girl. Cause you are F-I-N-E, fine.” She drags out the “fine” before saying, “Love you. Call me if you need anything. Oh, and send pics!”

“It’s a funeral, T, not a runway show.”

“It doesn’t mean you can’t look your best. Especially while you aren’t feeling your best. You gotta make up for it somewhere.

Look good, feel good.” She has a point. She’s always looking her best; with the extra attention she gives to her appearance.

Her toasted brown skin seems to glow with an inner warmth, especially now during her pregnancy.

It’s like her skin absorbs every bit of light, reflecting it back in a way that’s almost mesmerizing.

Her hair is always styled, framing her face just right, her outfits effortlessly chic, chosen to flatter her changing body.

Even on days when she’s tired, there’s a radiance to her that’s hard to ignore and easy to envy.

“Love you too. I’ll text you later.” I turn to leave and bump right into said tallest man I’ve ever seen.

Mortified, I keep my eyes averted, where they don’t even reach his shoulders.

I can feel his gaze penetrating the top of my head, his chest steady with his breath against the cascade of my own.

Goosebumps break out over my flesh before a deep rumble in his throat breaks the silence we found ourselves in.

“I’m so sorry. I hope I didn’t spill your coffee.

” I look to both sides and see where he is still holding it steady.

Of course I didn’t spill it. It’s like me trying to pull Excalibur from its stone.

Immovable. “I—I’ll get out of your way,” I stutter, and run out of there before I embarrass myself further .

Rushing down the sidewalk, I pull the light jacket I’m wearing over my tank top off, to rid my body of whatever extra heat had taken over when I bumped into the stranger.

Sweat trails down my back in little rivulets and I use my jacket to dab at my neck.

It’s been so long since I’ve been with a guy that I’ve seemingly forgotten how to act around them, age be damned.

But there was also something enigmatic—something electric in the air charged around us that felt different from interactions I’ve had with guys in the past. I’m blaming Thea for bringing his attention to us in the first place.

But God, the man hadn’t even spoken and he made my body sing in harmony with his in the matter of a few seconds.

Completely domineering and intimidating in a way that even the SEALS I surround myself with on a daily basis don’t possess.

I hadn’t even gotten a good look at his face, and yet…

The bell to the dress shop rings, snapping me out of my thoughts.

The clerk behind the counter looks up and says, “Welcome in. Let me know if there is anything I can help you find.” I nod at her and make my way toward the back where I know the black dresses are.

Everything in this shop is color-coded, making it more inviting.

I can’t tell you how many times I’ve come here to buy new items for my wardrobe when I’ve been dying of absolute boredom.

Usually that, or a local bookstore. Maybe not the best way to spend my time, as demanding as my school schedule is, but God forbid I stare at a computer screen every hour of the day.

That is the one thing I’m so grateful to be transferring to Virginia Tech in person for. It won’t feel so… robotic.

I scan several racks of black dresses before my eyes settle on a black half-sleeve that I pull off the rack and take to a dressing room to try on.

It’s classy without overdoing it and falls to about mid-thigh on me.

It’s a crew neck and is fitted around the waist where the top meets the sheath of the dress, which has several front pleats with an overlapping hem.

I don’t need to try on any more to know this is the dress I want to wear.

Plus, I have the advantage of being able to reuse it in the future.

After getting redressed, I take the dress and check out before making my way home.

As soon as I step out on the sidewalk, the sensation as though I’m being watched washes over me, and trickles down my spine like a spider.

I look in both directions before shaking my head.

“Jesus, maybe I should see about getting a sleeping prescription.” I blow out a breath and make my way to my truck, where it is parked several blocks away.

It’s still about midday and I’m not quite sure what to do with myself.

I suppose I could go to the local bookshop and see if I find anything that tickles my fancy.

I’m just not used to having this much free time, and I’m not sure that I like it.

I appreciate having the bereavement from school…

but still. If I spend too much time without doing anything, the thoughts will start to creep in, and they won’t be kind to me.

Even less so now that I’m sleep deprived.

I often wonder if I got that trait from my mother—the self-deprecation, the depression, the anxiety.

The onslaught of negativity that impacts my daily life, but I never let it show because it wouldn’t be the depiction of who my father thought he raised.

Instead, I lose myself to whatever I can fill my day with.

Most people would look at me and talk about how motivated and driven I am.

They don’t understand half of it or the ‘why’.

Or maybe it just simply has to do with the fact that a part of my subconscious remembers the hell of what it was apparently like when I was born.

My dad often explained to me that watching me was the most helpless he’s ever felt.

I was in the NICU for six months after being born prematurely and much too little.

I suffered seizures and had issues breathing and feeding.

He had told me once I was old enough to remember that he wasn’t sure I was going to pull through.

Mom had been on heroin, fentanyl, even dabbled in meth, and he had no idea because he had been gone for a large duration of the pregnancy.

I’m surprised I don’t have residual issues to be honest. Although, I have found myself wondering what drives somebody to use, let alone use when they’re pregnant.

That’s one of the only answers I never got.

Any time I tried to ask questions, Dad would shut down .