When You're Mine - Layla Hagen Page 0,39

didn’t get to explore very much. I was broke in college, so I only did things that were free or super cheap. Once I started working, I was always like ‘Oh, I’ll see this another time. I live here, after all.’ And after my accident, I suddenly wanted to see and experience everything. Want me to share my list with you?”

“Sure. But only if you’re my guide.”

I grinned. “Hell yes.”

I took out my phone, pulling up the list. We discussed it all the way to my dad’s house, which was in a quiet suburb way out of the city.

“Did your dad move here after his stroke?” Dylan asked.

“No, it’s the house he bought when he moved to New York. It’s much smaller than the house I grew up in, with only one bedroom, but it has a small yard. I made it wheelchair accessible after his stroke. We were lucky it was all on one level, but there were still a few steps to replace with a ramp at the entrance, and we had to redo the bathroom completely.”

“That’s a lot of work.”

“It is. On the bright side, I know so much about renovations now that I could flip houses as a side hustle.”

“Wait, you did it yourself?”

“Most of it, yeah. It was too expensive to hire contractors for everything.”

Dylan looked at me intently without saying anything.

I fidgeted in my seat. What is he thinking?

A few minutes later, we arrived at Dad’s house. I loved his place. It was cozy, and the small yard in the back was shielded from the neighbors' view by evergreen trees I planted myself.

Dad was in the kitchen, watching his phone. There was glass all around him.

"You're up to shenanigans again, Dad," I said, startling him a little. When he watched his videos, he was so absorbed he didn't hear anything else around him.

"Mel, you're here." He glanced at Dylan. "With a friend?"

"Yes, Dad. This is Dylan. He helped me get you that medicine. I told you about him, remember?"

"Thank you, Dylan. That was very kind of you."

"No problem, sir." He was looking at the splintered glass.

“Call me Martin.” After a few seconds, he added, “Sorry about this, kids. I’m not even sure how it happened. I tried to set the jars on the counter. After I knocked down the first, the rest fell like dominos. I’m usually not this clumsy, right, Mel, honey? Tell him your dad is not an old fart.”

"Dad, don’t worry about anything. And no, you’re not a klutz.” Winking at him, I glanced at Dylan and continued. “I'm going to get some cleaning supplies. The most important part is to take the glass away."

Dylan nodded.

I went into the small cupboard where Dad kept all the cleaning supplies and brought a broom. When I returned to the kitchen, I noticed Dylan had already picked up some of the bigger pieces of glass and thrown them in the trash. He’d rolled up his sleeves, revealing those mouthwatering forearms. He caught me checking him out and winked at me.

Grinning, I cleaned the rest of the shards and then brought the mop, washing the stickiness off the floor as well as the countertop. I also cleaned the wheelchair because the wheels smelled like pickles.

“Did you try to rearrange the cabinets again?” I asked Dad. He did that from time to time.

“Yes,” he replied guiltily. “I took them all out and put them on the counter, but I put them too close to the edge.”

The jars had been filled with pickles and jams, so it was all a bit stinky and sticky. I opened the door to the backyard to let in some fresh air. Dad’s dog, Buddy, came in.

“Oh, Dylan, can you keep him occupied so he doesn't cut himself if there are any little pieces of glass left? I want to vacuum up the rest."

"Sure. What’s his name?”

“Buddy,” Dad said.

I smiled, watching him stroke Buddy’s belly and pat him on the head. For someone who thought he wasn't an animal person, he sure had a way with dogs.

Once I was done cleaning up, I told Dad, "Okay, I think you can move freely now."

"Thanks. I was starving."

“I can heat your dinner," I offered. "What do you have?"

"Tuna steak."

“We could order in and have dinner together,” Dylan said.

Oh, wow. I didn’t expect this in a million years.

“That would be great,” Dad said. “Honey, the Chinese restaurant is our best bet. They deliver very quickly. I want the chicken with vegetables, without soy sauce. The