me down—somehow—but he didn't seem to have a team of guards at his heels ready to take me in, kicking and screaming. Maybe I needed to give him the benefit of the doubt? Surely, I couldn't turn my back and leave him to the snowstorm.
Then again, I was already imposing on Ruth enough. I couldn't just invite my sometimes-lover and maybe baby daddy into her home. Perhaps I should just go with him...
"I tell you what," Ruth suggested, tucking her gun away, "I'll let him in just until the storm passes. No one should be trying to drive through that mess, and I'd never forgive myself if you left with him and ended up in a crash. But if at sunrise you don't want to leave with him, then you don't have to. Clear?"
Stunned again at how incredible she was, I just jerked a nod with a thick lump of emotion sitting in my throat.
Ruth patted my shoulder in a comforting way, like she could read my mind, then tucked my failed pregnancy test into her pocket. When she unbolted the door and swung it open, Dylan was right there on the doorstep with his hands stuffed in the pockets of his jeans. He wasn't even wearing a coat, and I could see a slight shiver running through his tense shoulders.
"You can come in and stay till the storm dies off," Ruth told him in a stern, don't-fuck-with-me tone. "But if Brooke doesn't wanna go with you come morning, you leave. No arguments. Are we clear?"
Dylan shot me a quick look, then returned his gaze to Ruth with a nod. "Yes, ma'am. Understood."
She narrowed her eyes at him for a moment, then stepped aside to let him into her home. Fucking hell, it was like the room instantly shrank by at least half.
"Head on through to the sitting room," Ruth told us. "I'll prepare the guest room for you, Brooke. Your friend can sleep on the couch."
Dylan's brows flicked up as he ripped his intense stare away from me. "I'm so sorry, ma'am; I didn't introduce myself. I'm Dylan—"
"Dylan Grant," she cut him off. "I'm old, not stupid. I know full damn well who you are, son." The grim set to her mouth and small frown indicated she knew who he was and didn't approve.
Clearing my throat, I awkwardly made my way through to Ruth's sitting room, where a fire crackled in the open fireplace. I didn't just assume Dylan would follow me, but he did nonetheless, like a huge shadow echoing my footsteps.
I chose one of the big, overstuffed armchairs so he couldn't sit beside me. But he just took a seat on the sofa directly opposite instead, and maybe that was worse. I couldn't escape his gaze when he was staring straight at me.
"Why are you here, Dylan?" I asked in a soft voice when the tension became too much for me to bear. I was sitting with my hands tucked under my thighs in an attempt to calm my tremors, but it wasn't doing a whole lot of good. "How did you even find me?"
One of his black brows quirked. "Seriously?"
I frowned. "Yes, seriously. Do you have a tracking device on me or something?"
He shook his head. "No, of course not. But you didn't exactly hide your tracks well, Brooke. It wasn't a hard trail to follow when you were seen by so many people at Walmart. Warde is the closest town to camp, and it’s tiny. Strangers stand out."
Well, now I felt stupid. "Oh."
"What are you doing here, Brooke? You ran away from camp right before a snowstorm was due to hit. Do you have a death wish or something?" His frown was deepening into a scowl, and his nostrils flared with anger.
I let out a bitter laugh. "Leaving means I have a death wish? No offense, Dylan, but staying seemed like a considerably worse option for me. Your girlfriend is way too bloodthirsty for my liking, and she had absolutely no interest in my innocence."
His frown darkened. "How many times do I have to tell you that I'm not in love with Riley? I love her, yes, but as a good friend. Same as how I love Beck, Jasper, and Evan. They're my family, Brooke. You're—"
"An easy lay," I finished for him with a sneer. "Heard, loud and clear. So why the fuck are you here? Or do you seriously think I know where those files are?"