Afterlight (Fanfiction) - EDITING ✓

chapter eleven

Chloe

     BEING with Dean felt like stepping into a quiet reprieve from the chaos that had consumed my life—a fleeting slice of paradise. He listened, really listened, as though each word I spoke mattered more than the world passing by outside his car windows. His attention stayed on me even as his hands gripped the steering wheel, his eyes flickering briefly to meet mine in between focusing on the dark roads.

It didn't hurt that he was attractive in a way that felt effortless. The kind of rugged charm that could've belonged to a character in one of those romance novels I used to read before my life turned upside down.

We'd been driving for a while, the hum of the car filling the silence when neither of us spoke. Thankfully, Dean didn't live too far from Justin—just about forty miles out in London, Ontario. I stared out at the faint glow of the moon illuminating the darkened streets, wondering if the distance was far enough.

"Everything okay over there?" Dean's voice broke through my thoughts, tinged with concern.

I blinked and turned to him, realizing I'd been silent for too long. "Just thinking," I replied softly, my voice heavier than I intended.

"Well, don't think too hard," he teased lightly, a grin flickering across his face. "We'll be at my place in a couple of minutes. You'll be fine, don't worry."

I nodded, offering a weak smile that didn't quite reach my eyes. His confidence was comforting, but the ache of uncertainty gnawed at me. Fine? Was that even possible anymore?

Dean turned down a quiet neighborhood lined with modest homes, the streetlights casting long shadows across the pavement. He pulled into a driveway bordered by a neatly trimmed lawn.

"Home sweet home," he announced with a slight chuckle, cutting the engine. He wasted no time getting out and coming around to my side, opening the door for me like I was someone who deserved that kind of care.

His hand found mine as he helped me out of the car, his touch steady and grounding. The air was cooler here, crisp and clean, and for a moment, I inhaled deeply, hoping to fill the hollow ache inside me.

Dean led me into the house, where the scent of fresh linen greeted me. The space was immaculate, the kind of clean that spoke of both pride and solitude. Dark brown leather couches sat against freshly painted walls, and the marble countertops gleamed under the kitchen light.

"You have a beautiful home," I murmured, glancing around in quiet awe.

"Thanks," he said with a small smile, moving toward the freezer. He pulled out a blue gel ice pack and walked over to me, handing it to me. His dark eyes softened as they searched mine. "For your eyes, they are swollen from the crying," he murmured.

The cold stung against my skin, and I flinched slightly. "It's freezing," I mumbled, letting out an involuntary yawn. "I'm fine, really."

Dean chuckled, lowering the ice pack but staying close. "Are you tired?" he asked, tilting his head with a boyish grin.

"A little," I admitted, brushing a strand of hair out of my face. "It's been... a day."

His eyes narrowed slightly, studying me. "What happened? Do you want to talk about it?" His voice was gentle, but there was a quiet insistence, like he truly wanted to understand.

"Maybe tomorrow," I said, my voice trailing off as another yawn escaped. "I'm too exhausted to even think about it right now."

"Of course." He smiled warmly, reaching out to playfully tap my nose with his finger. "The couch is mine, and you can have my bed if you want."