against my shoulder like she was exactly where she wanted to be. That worked for me, because this was exactly where I wanted her.
With me.
I reached down and pulled the comforter and top sheet back, then eased her onto the mattress. I followed her into bed and pulled her into my arms, surprised again at how well we fit together. She snuggled against me with a sleepy sigh; within minutes, her breathing evened out and I knew she was asleep.
It wasn't until much later that I realized she had never told me what was wrong. For reasons I didn't understand, I couldn't help but wonder if she had deliberately distracted me from asking again.
Chapter Twenty-Two
Morgan
I was shaking so bad that packing was taking twice as long. The shaking surprised me—I'd never been one to be so out of sorts that I physically reacted so this was new to me. While it normally wouldn't bother me too much, it bothered me now. I had neither the time to wonder about it nor the extra time to deal with it.
I needed to leave. Now.
I woke up twenty minutes ago with three absolutes whirling in my sleepy mind:
I needed to leave.
I didn't want to leave.
It was only a matter of time before Mrs. Young found me.
That last thought is what catapulted me from the warm bed in a near-panic. It was the second thought that made me hesitate, both with surprise and a fear that I knew exactly why I didn't want to leave.
And it was both of those thoughts that only made me more determined to leave. I had to, I no longer had a choice.
I tossed my flip flops on top of the small toiletries kit then looked around, wondering if I was forgetting anything. I didn't have much, which meant I couldn't really afford to leave anything behind. The only thing I hadn't packed was the silky sleep camisole I'd bought the other weekend during the unusual 'shopping spree' Addy and Jacqui had dragged me on. I'd worn it that night in the hopes of surprising Dylan, thinking he might enjoy it since it was definitely sexier than what I usually wore to bed. I wasn't even sure if he'd really seen it since we'd had that weird kind of argument/non-argument that night.
I hadn't worn it again and knew I wouldn't wear it anytime in the future. Packing it would be a waste, even if it didn't take up any room. Should I leave it behind? Throw it in the trash? Something else?
I grabbed it from the bed and carefully folded it then, for reasons that made absolutely zero sense, I walked over to Dylan's dresser and opened one of the drawers. Maybe he'd remember it, maybe he wouldn't. Maybe he wouldn't even see it. And maybe, just maybe, he'd think of me when he did see it—hopefully with a smile but more than likely with a frown, since I was leaving the way I was.
Since I was leaving, period.
I tossed the camisole in the drawer then, on an impulse I didn't stop to question, I grabbed one of Dylan's t-shirts. It was gray, with that funny bee logo emblazoned on the front circled with the words Property of New Orleans Bourdons. I held the shirt up to my nose and inhaled, imagining I could smell Dylan's essence in the soft cotton.
Before I could question exactly what I was doing, I tossed the t-shirt into my duffle bag and zipped it closed. The shirt would be entirely too big on me and a small part of me felt guilty for taking it, but I wanted something to remember Dylan by, something I could hold close to me. Technically I was stealing it but I didn't think Dylan would mind, if he even noticed.
At least, I hoped he wouldn't mind. Maybe he'd even understand.
I looked around one last time then grabbed the duffle bag and headed down the steps. There was only one bus that left for San Diego on Sundays and I'd already missed it. I figured I'd hang at the bus station if I needed to and get the morning bus tomorrow. Or maybe I could find somewhere else to hang out until then. All I knew was that I couldn't stay here. If I did, I might lose the courage to leave and I couldn't afford that.
A spurt of irrational panic flashed in my chest and I quickly swallowed it back. The feeling that time was running out