Isabella
I blamed Dylan before I even saw him and that felt fair, mostly because it was.
The morning sun had barely settled over the small recreational park beside the rehabilitation center when I stood on one of the paved walking paths, glaring at absolutely nothing while forcing myself into another stretch.
My hamstrings protested immediately.
"Oh, this is definitely your fault," I muttered under my breath.
"Which part?" A foreign voice breezed straight to my ear, and I froze.
Slowly, I turned my head.
Dylan stood a few feet away with a paper cup of coffee in one hand, looking entirely too composed for someone who had become the greatest inconvenience in my life.
He raised an eyebrow, like he was silently asking me what I was blaming him for.
"The stretching," I clarified.
"I
