Tempted Trapped and Too Late to Run

Clara had zero interest in talking to him. Honestly, he'd always seemed to hate her—like he'd be thrilled if she just disappeared. So why was he suddenly acting different? She didn't get it.

She turned to leave, but his laughter stopped her. It was low and mocking. "You know, you're actually kind of fascinating. You look like trouble, but I never thought you'd be so innocent underneath."

The way he said it, it was almost like he wanted to embarrass her.noveldrama

Clara's brows drew together, her voice dropping. "Cut to the chase, Jackson. What do you want?"

Jackson tossed his cigarette in the trash, careful not to get too close he clearly didn't want Dylan noticing them. His lips twisted into his usual, sarcastic smirk.

"What do I want?" he echoed. "Just making sure you remember last night. You and Dylan were practically glued together in that lounge, and now you're telling me it was just an allergy? I can't tell if you're pretending or if you really forgot. But the way you chase after Dylan... well, now we all get why he can't let you go." Clara's hand slipped; the plate she'd been holding crashed to the floor, shattering. Her face went pale, then flushed. All those alcohol-blurred memories hit her at once-suddenly too sharp, too real.

Jackson watched her reaction and seemed to realize she wasn't faking it. He quirked an eyebrow and left before Dylan could look their way.

Clara crouched to pick up the smashed pastries, but the whir of a wheelchair made her freeze.

Dylan rolled up beside her, bent down, and picked up a piece of pastry. “What did he say to you?"

Clara's face changed again. She squeezed the pastry in her hand until it crumbled.

She spotted Tara heading over out of the corner of her eye. Quickly, she dumped the rest of the pastries and the broken plate in the trash. "Nothing," she muttered.

She didn't stick around for questions. Without another word, she hurried outside, desperate for air.

By the pool, her mind was a mess. Snippets of last night's kisses kept replaying, growing clearer and more impossible to ignore.

How did it come to this?

The shame and guilt of betraying someone she'd just lost twisted inside her, leaving her heart aching.

She didn't even know how to face Dylan anymore.

And Dylan he was confusing, too The letter had spelled everything out, and still, every year, he visited. Shelly's grave. So why was he still holding on?

He hadn't even been drunk last night, had he?

Clara lowered her eyes, remembering how intense and wild he'd been in the car.

The realization made her shiver, late and cold.

She took a deep breath, about to leave, when someone spoke behind her.

“Clara, I can't believe you're still getting along with Dylan. Bet your boyfriend's rolling over in his grave right now."

She turned and saw Simon.

He looked terrible-thin, bandaged, almost unrecognizable.

His eyes were dark, his smile sharp and bitter "Surprised I'm still alive? Guess got lucky. Dylan's scared I'll show up and tell you the truth. Because that explosion? He planned it. theard it myself."

Clara almost laughed. Like she'd believe anything Simon said.

He'd been off for a long time now-everyone knew it.

Simon stayed in the shadows, not coming any closer. "Don't believe me? Go look for yourself. You'll find something if you stick by Dylan long enough. Clara, maybe I hate that you don't love me anymore, but never wanted you dead."

He wasn't trying to convince her just planting a seed of doubt.

"Dylan will do anything to get what he wants. You'll see. That's all I've got for now.

If you want more, you know how to find me."

And with that, Simon really did leave.

He came out of nowhere and disappeared just as fast.

From a distance, Tara watched Simon walk away, a cold little smile curving her

lips.

She was the one who'd sent Simon here. And even if he got caught, he'd never give her up.

Simon wasn't the same person anymore.

Clara, Clara... you really have no idea how many people you've crossed.