Page 31 of Peripheral Vision (Tethered in Darkness Duet #1)

Chapter

Nineteen

DYLAN

I didn’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 hi s attentiveness, the interest in my life, was a little too much.

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 to feel 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 just end things 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 wake up 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… kill him, 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.