Flutter

by Olivia Evans

  “Dylan has nothing to do with this! I’m so sick of everything in my life revolving around you and your campaign. I’m not a puppet!”

  “Presley, go to your room,” Presley’s mother said, her tone sharp. “And I’m advising you now that speaking again would be a mistake. I think this situation has escalated far enough.”

  After a moment of eerie silence, Dylan heard a door slam. Exhaling, he pressed the elevator button and worked on keeping his breathing even. He had never heard Presley talk that way to anyone, least of all her parents. She was nearing the end of her rope, and for both their sakes, Dylan had to figure out a way to pull her back. Everything would work out; he’d make sure of it.

  The next morning, feeling a little guilty for eavesdropping, Dylan told her about overhearing the conversation. Before she had a chance to get angry, however, he explained he’d come up with a plan.

  “They usually start serving pretty early at the soup kitchen,” he explained. “Your father just wants pictures for the press. Let’s be real, he’s not going to stay there a minute longer than he needs to. He might be able to fool everyone else, but we know better.”

  Presley rolled her eyes. “Of course.”

  “So I’ll have Grandmother push Thanksgiving lunch to Thanksgiving dinner. She’ll do it. Then once you’re done around noon, you can tell them you’re going over to Sunny’s for the night. That’s where you stayed last year, right?”

  “Yeah. But how does this end up with me at your grandmother’s in the Hamptons?”

  “Have your dad’s driver drop you off at Sunny’s house. That way, if he asks, the driver will confirm he took you there. I’ll wait for you around the corner. As soon as he pulls away, I’ll pick you up, and we’ll be on our way. It’s only a couple hours’ drive. We’ll be there in time for the pre-dinner show.”

  “So I’d spend the night there? With you?”

  Dylan’s throat bobbed as he swallowed, and his cheeks flushed. “Yeah. If you’re okay with that.”

  “Yeah. I’m okay with that,” Presley whispered back.

  Throughout the rest of the day, Dylan couldn’t stop thinking about Presley or the way she looked when she realized he wanted her to spend the night. He’d wanted to take things slow, make her understand what she meant to him, but he worried if he waited much longer he might cause permanent damage. Besides, he was ready. Ready to tell her how he felt. Ready to be with her in every way possible.

  “We all set?” Dylan asked, grabbing Presley’s bag and throwing it in the back seat of his car.

  Presley nodded, her smile contagious. “They didn’t even bat an eye. When I told them Sunny’s parents were out of town again, they immediately said I could go. Of course, they invited her to come stay with us, but when I reminded them she’d have to bring her three dogs, they backtracked right away.”

  Dylan laughed and put the car in drive. “Of course they did. Those dogs don’t exactly fit your mother’s decor.”

  “No joke.”

  “So, did your parents say anything about me?” Dylan asked, slipping his hand over the top of Presley’s thigh.

  Presley’s lips thinned, and when she spoke, her voice was filled with annoyance. “Yes,” she answered, her tone clipped. “They are quite pleased I’m spending the day with my friends instead of allowing you to monopolize all my time.”

  Dylan scrunched his face. “Your parents are complete dicks, you know that, right?”

  “Oh, I know.”

  “You know what else?” Dylan asked, pulling Presley’s hand to his lap and lacing their fingers.

  Presley smiled. “What?”

  “I don’t give a shit what they think about me. As long as we’re good, the rest of the world can fuck off.”

  Presley leaned across the seat and pressed her lips to his cheek. “I couldn’t have said it better.”

  For the rest of the drive, Dylan filled Presley in on what to expect once they arrived at his grandmother’s place. He told her about the food, his family, the house, but studiously avoided the topic of their sleepover. With her hand already on his leg dangerously close to his junk, he couldn’t have handled it. As much as he wanted to be with her in that way, it would be her decision in the end.

  A gasp slipped past Presley’s lips as he pulled into the horseshoe driveway. “Dylan, this is beautiful.”

  “Eh, I’ve seen better,” Dylan quipped, his eyes focused on her chest.

  Presley laughed. “There you go again, romancing the shit out of me.”

  With a wink, Dylan grabbed their bags and walked around to her side of the car. “Damn straight.”

  “Seriously though, I’ve seen pictures, but they don’t do it justice.”

  Dylan looked over the beach house where he’d spent so many summers. The exterior was painted a brilliant white. Glossy black shutters and a sloping black roof framed large windows that stretched up the three stories. His eyes zeroed in on the window of the bedroom they would share. Pulling in a deep breath, Dylan let the sounds and smells of the ocean lapping at the beach at the edge of the property wash away a little of his anxiety.

  Throwing his free arm over Presley’s shoulder, he pulled her toward the house. “Come on. Grandmother is dying to see you.”

  Walking through the front door, Dylan looked around the large foyer. No matter how many times he’d been there, he never stopped appreciating the way the light streamed in through the three-story windows adorning the front of the house.

  “Wow,” Presley exhaled, clearly impressed. Before she could say anything else, however, Dylan’s grandmother wrapped her in a hug.

  “Presley, look at you,” his grandmother cooed, her pink lips pulled back into a smile, her signature flowy blouse and tailored pants perfectly pressed. Leaning forward, she placed a kiss to Presley’s cheek. “You look beautiful. I’m forever grateful my grandson finally pulled his head out of his ass and courted you properly.”

  Presley blushed and smoothed her hands down the front of her thick cream-colored sweater while Dylan rolled his eyes. “Only you can mention pulling my head out of my ass and use the word courted in the same sentence.”

  His grandmother threw her shoulders back, her white curls bouncing around her face as she sighed dramatically. “I can be as classy or as crude as I please. It’s one of the many joys of being old. I can say whatever the hell I please.”

  Presley giggled. “Thank you for having me. I’m sorry you had to delay dinner, but I really appreciate the gesture.”

  Dylan’s grandmother waved her hand dismissively. “It was no trouble at all. Besides, it doesn’t matter if we eat at noon or six, someone will get drunk and make an ass out of themselves. It's a Walker tradition. If you survive today, you and Dylan will be together forever.”

  Dylan stepped to Presley and wrapped his arm around her waist. “If that’s the case, we’re golden.”

  Dylan’s grandmother looked between the pair, a hint of mischief in her blue-gray eyes. “You two are so much like Grandpa Ryan and me, God rest his soul. It warms my heart to think at least one of my grandchildren has a chance at real happiness.”

  “All right, Grandmother,” Dylan said with a soft smile. “Let’s not scare Presley off. How about we gather everyone for dinner? I’m sure they’re quite entertaining by now.”

  His grandmother let out a groan and smoothed her hands down the front of her gold top. “Those cousins of yours might be a mess, but they sure do make me laugh. Let’s see if they’ve properly paired up with their dates.”

  Presley giggled, obviously remembering Dylan’s story about the previous Thanksgiving. “This is going to be awesome.”

  And it was. Over the next several hours, Presley laughed more than Dylan ever remembered. In the midst of Dylan’s family, both the charming and the crass, Presley fit right in. It made Dylan’s chest tighten. She was always meant to be a part of his life in this way. All throughout dinner, Dylan held her hand, touched her leg, whispered into her ear. He couldn’t keep
his hands off her. She was everything he’d ever wanted. She was his best friend and the girl he loved more than anyone in the world. He’d had his doubts in the past, but seeing her today with his family, he felt more than certain she felt the same way.

  Once the dinner table was cleared and Dylan’s grandmother had retired to bed, Dylan and Presley along with his cousins and their dates made their way out to the back patio. For the next few hours, they sat around the fire pit in lounge chairs covered with blankets as his family shared some of their more colorful stories, making Presley gasp and cover her face in secondhand embarrassment. For Dylan, her reactions were better than the stories. As much as he could have listened to her laugh all night, he was ready to have her to himself.

  “Are you tired?” he asked, pulling Presley closer and kissing her temple.

  “I’m ready to go to bed,” she answered. The look on her face told Dylan that sleeping was the last thing on her mind. He sucked in a sharp breath and nodded. His stomach twisted with anticipation.

  Pulling the blanket off them, he rose to his feet and extended his arm. He noticed the tremble of her fingers as she took his hand and stood. Hand in hand, they hurried through the back door and up the stairs, laughing at the catcalls of his cousins echoing in the distance.

  “This is us,” he whispered, pushing open the door to their bedroom. He waited as Presley stepped inside, her eyes sweeping around the large room. The light from the bedside lamps cast shadows around the room. Between them stood a large four-poster bed, its fluffy white bedding warm, inviting, and kind of scary. On the far side of the room, the door to the bathroom stood slightly ajar. Presley started to move toward it but paused. When Dylan pushed the bedroom door closed, Presley turned and wrapped her arms around Dylan’s neck.

  “Today was perfect.”

  Dylan nodded and put his arms around her waist, walking them farther into the room as he spoke. “It was. Sorry there wasn’t a fight. I think they were behaving for you.”

  Presley tsked and shook her head. “Maybe next year.”

  Dylan threw his head back and laughed before pulling her tight against his chest. “Next year. I like the sound of that.” He actually loved the sound of that.

  Presley pushed her fingers into the hair at the nape of his neck, causing a shiver to run down Dylan’s spine. “I know we’ve only been dating a few months, but it doesn’t feel like it. I can’t explain it. You’ve said it before, but until today, I didn’t realize how right you were. What I’m trying to say is—”

  “Stop,” Dylan interrupted, his brows pulled together. As much as he wanted to hear what she was going to say, he couldn’t let her do it first. Not after all these years. “Don’t you dare tell me you love me. Don’t steal my thunder. I’ve been waiting years to say those words to you. Let me have this.”

  Presley’s mouth fell open, and a burst of color filled her cheeks. “What?” she whispered.

  Dylan pushed her hair behind her ear and cupped her cheeks. He was going all in. “I love you, Presley. I’ve loved you for a long time. I have no idea how you didn’t see it, because I felt like it was the most obvious thing in the world. But none of that matters now. We’re here, we’re together, and you’re my girl. I love you.”

  Tears rolled down Presley’s cheeks as she nodded. “Every time I see you, I get these crazy butterflies in my stomach. I feel like I might float away some days, like this can’t be real. But then I see you and I know it’s real, and the butterflies are even more intense than before. I’ve never felt this way about anyone. I never want my butterflies to go away, and for some reason, I just know that as long as I have you, they never will. I love you, too, Dylan. So much.”

  Dylan swallowed his emotions. He didn’t need to lose his shit now. “Thank fuck,” he choked, causing Presley to laugh.

  She popped up on her toes and pressed her lips to his. “I’d like you to take my clothes off now.”

  Dylan nodded and dropped his hands to the hem of her shirt. “I’d like that too,” he whispered, pulling the material over her head and tossing it to the floor. Kissing her softly, he backed her to the bed and pushed her down gently. Popping the button of her jeans, he slid the material down her legs, kissing the inside of her thigh, her knee, and her ankle.

  Stripping out of his own clothes, he crawled over her and kissed her again. “Are you sure?”

  Presley licked her lips and nodded. “I’ve never been more sure about anything in my life.”

  “I love you,” he said again, moving between her parted thighs.

  “I love you too,” she murmured.

  Chapter Ten

  Present Day

  Dylan moved through the halls of Grace in a daze. He hadn’t slept much the night before, and when he did, his dreams had been plagued by blood, broken butterfly wings, and broken promises. His hand moved without thought to his chest, his fingers pressing against the coarse material of his white coat. Underneath was his butterfly tattoo, half dead and half alive. For years, it had represented his life and his love; now it meant so much more. It wasn’t just about him anymore. He wasn’t the only one floating between life and death.

  “Are you okay?” Joel asked, his brows drawn together.

  Dylan jolted from his thoughts and turned toward Joel. “I’m fine. Apparently, I don’t have the same stamina as you,” Dylan joked, noting that Joel looked as tired as Dylan felt.

  Joel’s eyes narrowed slightly. Dylan needed to be more careful. He needed to remember that Joel was just like him. He was trained to be observant. When Joel didn’t speak, Dylan sighed.

  “I’m worried about my grandmother,” Dylan admitted, relieved to tell Joel something that was at least partially true.

  Joel’s expression turned sympathetic. “Is she sick?”

  “No. Nothing like that. She’s just getting older, and I worry that my family doesn’t always have her best interests at heart. They don’t look after her like I would.”

  “Ah,” Joel said with a nod. “So, I take it you’re the favorite, then?”

  “Of course I am,” Dylan laughed as Dr. Edmonds approached. “Hello, Dr. Edmonds.”

  “Dr. Walker. Dr. Gaines,” he said, nodding at both Dylan and Joel before turning his attention back to Dylan. “If you have a moment, I’d like to speak with you in my office.”

  Dylan’s stomach rolled, and his pulse thundered in his ears. “Of course,” he answered, surprised by how calm he sounded. Looking at Joel, Dylan shrugged. “I’ll see you later.”

  “Later,” Joel called as Dylan turned and followed Dr. Edmonds to his office. He wasn’t certain what Dr. Edmonds wanted to talk about, but if it had anything to do with Hilltop, he knew today would be his last day as a doctor.

  “Have a seat, Dylan,” Dr. Edmonds instructed as he made his way around the desk and eased into his chair.

  “This feels a lot like being called to the principal’s office,” Dylan joked, trying to disguise his nerves.

  Dr. Edmonds raised his brow, a small smile lifting the corner of his mouth. “Are you speaking from experience?”

  Dylan pushed his hand through his hair and chuckled. “Maybe once or twice.”

  “Huh.” Dr. Edmonds relaxed back in his chair. “I never took you for the rebellious type.”

  Dylan mimicked the other doctor’s position and clasped his hands in his lap. “Only on Mondays.”

  Dr. Edmonds laughed and nodded. “If ever there was a day to rebel, that’s a good one.” Clearing his throat, he opened a folder on his desk and pulled out a sheet of paper, all traces of humor gone from his face. Dylan’s heart once again began to race.

  “How are you enjoying working at Hilltop?” he asked, his eyes boring into Dylan.

  “I-I like it just fine,” Dylan stuttered, his palms clammy.

  “I realize it’s less hands-on than your duties here. You don’t treat patients, and your typical duties are those of a nurse,” Dr. Edmonds continued, unaware of the color slowly draining from Dylan’s
face.

  “I enjoy my time at Hilltop,” Dylan reiterated, his voice low. “I might not be treating patients, but I do enjoy spending time with them.”

  Dr. Edmonds folded his hands on top of the desk, studying Dylan for several moments before letting out a heavy exhale. “I understand you’ve met Zach.”

  Dylan’s eyes widened before he quickly schooled his features. Clearing his throat, he nodded. “I have.”

  “Tell me about that.”

  Dylan shifted in his seat as he tried to figure out what Dr. Edmonds was fishing for. Could Zach have told Dr. Edmonds about their conversation? Was it Cody? If either of them had, his career was over. “It was nothing important. He just introduced himself and asked a few questions about me, and then he was gone again.”

  “Interesting,” Dr. Edmonds hummed, his expression thoughtful.

  “Did I do something wrong?”

  Dr. Edmonds leaned forward, his eyes wide as he shook his head. “No. No, of course not. Actually, you’ve done something that no one else has been able to do.”

  Dylan’s brows furrowed. “What?”

  “You had a real conversation with Zach. Sure, many of us have had the displeasure of his company, but it’s typically when he’s causing trouble. Not once has he shown himself for the sole purpose of introductions.”

  “Oh,” Dylan exhaled.

  “Zach has never confessed to his mother’s murder,” Dr. Edmonds explained. “We have no idea why he did it, what caused him to snap. If someone could get him to talk, someone he trusted, maybe we could get the answers to figure out a way to help him.”

  “He doesn’t trust me,” Dylan argued, finally realizing what Dr. Edmonds had in mind.

  “But he does,” Dr. Edmonds corrected. “At least, that’s what Cody told me this morning.”

  Dylan’s lips parted as disbelief colored his face. “He told you that?”

  “He did. When I asked him if Zach would talk to you again, he said he would. Do you understand what this means?”