Page 30 of Art of Love

He took a deep breath and glanced up at the sliver of the moon. “I don’t trust easily. Not after…” He shook his head and then turned back towards her. “I dropped my guard with you. Don’t make me regret it.”

She felt as if she’d been slapped. All she could do was give him a silent promise with a quick nod of her head.

“From here on out, I’ll expect only the truth. You give it, and you’ll get it.” His eyes searched hers.

“That’s fair,” she whispered.

He swallowed and then took her hand, and they walked the rest of the way in silence, a different kind this time, one not filled with tension or suspicion but with something steadier. A quiet understanding. A fragile trust.

When they reached her car, she turned to him, her hand already on the door. “I’m not good at this either,” she admitted. “The… trusting part.”

Abe smiled gently, reaching out to brush a windblown strand of hair from her cheek. “Yeah. I figured as much”

For a moment, they just stood there, the ocean behind them, the sliver of a moon hanging high above them with all the stars.

This time, she let him make the move.

When he finally lowered his lips towards hers, she felt her entire body vibrate with desire. At least he hadn’t kicked her out or, worse, called the police on her and had her hauled in for B&E.

When his mouth covered hers and she tasted him on her tongue, she relaxed and melted like she had during that first kiss.

This was something she’d never had before. Something she so desperately wanted to explore. To understand more deeply.

Then, without another word, he pulled away.

“Goodnight, Dylan,” he said softly, and then he turned and started walking back down the beach.

She waited, watching until he was nothing more than a shadow before she got in her car and closed the door.

She sat there for a long moment, her fingers resting on the wheel, unmoving. Her lips still tingled, her chest was tight from the warmth of his kiss and the deeper weight of everything that had just passed between them. She drew in a breath, long and slow, trying to slow her racing thoughts.

This wasn’t what she’d come here for.

And yet it was the only part of this town that felt real.

Why hadn’t he turned her away the moment he’d found out who and what she was? The only answer she could come up with was that he was telling the truth. He wanted to find who was driving that night as badly as he’d said.

She’d felt that in her bones from the moment she’d started watching him. Really watching him.

Whatever had happened more than five years ago, Abe Collins had had nothing to do with the death of the woman he had loved.

And it was clear that he had loved Kara. If the look in his eyes in that faded photograph wasn’t proof enough, the way his voice cracked when he spoke about her left no doubt.

The roads were quiet as she drove back towards her house. The porch lights throughout town flickered on as night fell fully over the coast, casting shadows over picket fences and gravel driveways. Everything about the town looked the same. But it wasn’t. Not really. And neither was she.

Once inside the log cabin, she kicked off her running shoes by the door and made her way into her dad’s small office at the back of the house. The room still smelled faintly of old paper and leather from her dad’s years of use, and she found a strange comfort in that as she powered up her laptop.

Her inbox chimed the moment it connected to the Wi-Fi.

Kevin Sinclair.

She stared at the name for a second, debating whether to open it or not. But eventually she clicked.

Any updates? It’s been over a week since you returned to Pride. I’m starting to get the sense you’re holding something back. If you’ve found anything, even something small, you need to tell me. I’m not paying you to go dark. Call or email, your choice.

Dylan leaned back in her chair and stared at the screen, chewing her thumbnail. He wasn’t wrong. She was holding back information from him. But she couldn’t tell him that Abe knew who she was now. Not yet. Not when everything had shifted so completely in just a matter of hours.

Instead, she clicked reply and began to type.