Tempted Trapped and Too Late to Run

Dylan turned to Clara and noticed she was still a little spaced out. He gently took the empty glass from her hand.

A few minutes earlier, she'd been sitting there alone, zoning out, and had finished her glass of wine without even realizing it.

When her fingers brushed air, Clara blinked, staring at her palm for a few seconds before coming back to herself.

She looked up and met Dylan's eyes. The moment their gazes locked, it was like she'd touched something hot-her heart skipped and she stammered, "I..."

Before she could say anything else, Tara cut in, turning to Jackson. "Jackson, did Carter hit you last night?"

There was a small scratch on Jackson's cheek-something no one else had noticed, but Tara had picked up on it right away.

With the focus shifting to Jackson, Clara faded into the background.

Jackson ran his finger along the rim of his glass and grinned. “Nah, just caught by some broken glass. My grandpa still packs a punch. Even at his age, he managed to smash three glasses."

Everyone chuckled, and suddenly the room felt lighter.

Tara started chatting about old times with the others. She'd known this group for years—they'd been through a lot together.

But all the memories were lost on Clara. She didn't remember any of it, hadn't been part of any of it.

It felt like being at a reunion for childhood friends, except she was the outsider who couldn't join in.

Not that she wanted to, really. But it was obvious Tara was bringing up these stories on purpose, just to make her feel left out.

If Clara actually liked Dylan, maybe she would've felt hurt. But she didn't—so she just sat there, perfectly calm.

Every now and then, Tara would drag Dylan into the stories, usually about something from when they were kids.

"Dylan, remember that time you and Richard snuck onto the base and almost stepped on a landmine? You both got spanked in front of everyone when you got back."

They'd both gotten in serious trouble. Dylan was the oldest, and Richard was only a year younger, so Dylan ended up taking most of the blame.

But even as a kid, Richard had been a little troublemaker. Especially when he was with Dylan-he even

worst punishment. fo

0 compete over who got thenoveldrama

So when Dylan got fifty lashes and Richard only got twenty, Richard had been outraged.

"We made the same mistake! Why does he get thirty more lashes than me? That's not fair!"

Everyone at the base had burst out laughing, and one of the elders

nudged Richard with his foot. "If you put this kind of energy into something useful, you'd go far, kid.”

Before the laughter had died down, Dylan had raised his hand, deadpan.

"I'd like to donate my extra thirty lashes to Richard, just to keep things fair. I don't mind letting him win this one."

Richard's dramatic protest turned into a running joke, and even years later, the story still made the rounds at family gatherings.

Tara had obviously heard it from the older folks, and she brought it up now to draw everyone in.

But Dylan just shrugged and said, "I don't remember."

Tara didn't miss a beat-she just moved on to another story.

Only Richard glanced up, shooting Dylan a look no one could quite read.

The whole vibe in the private room had warmed up, all thanks to Tara's easy way

of keeping the conversation going.

She seemed ready to keep the stories coming, but then the

manager came in quietly and el.net one's here to see you o

outside-a relative."

Tara stood up at once. "I'll be back in a minute."

As soon as she left, everything kind of fell silent.

Nicholas didn't even like Tara much, but even he had to admit—she had a way of

making the room feel alive.