Page 137 - My FlipBook

T R A I L O F C R U M B S

She took a sip, her stomach clenching against the memory
of the previous week. From the garage roof, the other cabins
formed a dark collage of shapes. Cold seeped through the
blanket beneath her. The air had stayed just cool enough to
maintain the snow. A flirtation with winter up to this point. She
leaned against Dylan’s shoulder, and he reached for her hand.
“How was your week?” she asked him.
Dylan laughed. “You want to talk about basketball?”

Anything about him, actually. Who did he come home to?
What did he worry about, and who worried about him?
Dylan took the can from her hand and set it by his,
precariously angled on the roof. He reclined her back, so she
rested her head on his chest. The heat from his body made up
for the damp blanket.
He traced his thumb along her hip bone where the bare

skin and belt loop met. Cold but somehow scalding where he
touched. She knew it began now. His hand on her belly, then
moving up her shirt. She became still—not even breathing—
and felt herself shrink next to his body, suddenly immense.
He pressed against her side. Reaching over, he took her palm
and held it against his chest, sliding it down his abs, lower.
She pulled her hand away and ran it up his back. His body
shifted onto her, crushing. She needed the beer just out of
reach. Even Matt’s toxic punch. Something. He bent to kiss

her while he fumbled with the button on her jeans, tugging
them over her hips. It’s what’s done.
Her lungs collapsed, imploding under his weight. Held
under water too long. Arms that weren’t her own pushed

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