Chapter 16- Dangerous Comfort
1437 Words
Scarlett
The walk back to Dean’s mansion was quiet in a way that felt heavier than silence should.
Not awkward.
Just full of too many things neither of them were saying.
Scarlett could still hear her father’s voice in the back of her mind.
Keep my daughter safe.
And judging by the unreadable expression on Dean’s face as he unlocked the front door beside her, he was thinking about it too.
The mansion was warm when they stepped inside, soft golden lighting stretching across polished floors and dark walls. The faint scent of cedar and expensive cologne lingered in the air, wrapping around Scarlett almost immediately.
Safe.
Which honestly made no sense considering who owned the place.
Scarlett dropped her duffel bag near the staircase before rubbing tiredly at her face. Every part of her felt exhausted now that the adrenaline from the night was finally wearing off.
Her bruises hurt.
Her head hurt.
And thinking too hard about anything involving Will or Dean felt emotionally dangerous at this point.
Dean shut the front door quietly before his eyes swept over her once.
“You’re limping.”
Scarlett glanced down automatically before scoffing.
“I’m literally not.”
Dean stared at her with complete disbelief.
“You do realize lying only works when the other person is stupid.”
Despite herself, Scarlett rolled her eyes.
“I’m tired.”
“No kidding.”
The sarcasm should’ve irritated her.
Instead it grounded her in a strange way she didn’t fully understand yet.
Dean loosened the sleeves of his dress shirt as he disappeared into the kitchen without another word. Scarlett frowned slightly, confused for all of three seconds before he returned carrying a bottle of water, pain medicine, and an ice pack wrapped carefully in a towel.
Of course he did.
“Sit.”
Scarlett looked at him for a second before leaning against one of the kitchen stools instead.
“You know you don’t actually have to keep taking care of me.”
Dean handed her the water first, his expression completely unreadable.
“Good thing nobody asked me.”
Her stomach flipped embarrassingly fast at the response.
Again.
Scarlett hated how easily he affected her now.
She sat down slowly while Dean leaned against the counter across from her, the low kitchen lighting softening some of the sharper edges that usually made him seem untouchable.
The rolled sleeves, tired eyes, and sharp lines of Dean Steele’s face looked unfairly good beneath the low kitchen lights.
It was honestly distracting.
Scarlett swallowed the pain medicine before pressing the cold towel carefully against her cheek.
Dean watched her for a second before sighing quietly.
“You’re holding it wrong.”
Scarlett frowned immediately.
“It’s ice, Dean. Not rocket science.”
“Move.”
The single word sent warmth rushing through her before she could stop it.
Dean stepped closer, gently brushing her hand aside before taking the towel from her.
“Hold still,” he said firmly.
His fingers brushed lightly against her cheek as he adjusted the ice pack more carefully against the bruise. The touch was surprisingly gentle this time.
No visible anger.
No cold intimidation.
Just quiet focus as he concentrated on not hurting her more.
Which somehow felt infinitely more intimate.
Scarlett tried not to stare at him.
Failed immediately.
Her eyes drifted over Dean’s exposed forearms, the tattoos covering his skin all the way down to his hands, and the expensive watch catching softly beneath the kitchen lights.
There was something unfair about how attractive he looked standing this close to her while acting like taking care of her was the most natural thing in the world.
His jaw looked softer tonight too. Less cold. More tired.
Human.
That realization felt far more dangerous than it should have.
“You keep staring at me like that,” Dean said calmly, “and I’m gonna start thinking you like me.”
Scarlett let out a quiet scoff even as heat crept into her face.
“You’re unbelievably full of yourself.”
Dean’s mouth twitched slightly.
“Wasn’t a no.”
God.
Scarlett looked away immediately, hating how easily he pulled reactions out of her.
Unfortunately, Dean noticed everything.
His thumb brushed lightly beneath her jaw as he adjusted the towel again, and Scarlett’s breath caught before she could stop it.
The movement was small.
Probably accidental.
But it still sent her thoughts spiraling in directions they absolutely should not have been going.
Dean’s eyes flicked briefly toward her mouth before returning to the bruise on her cheek.
The tension between them shifted instantly.
Quieter now.
Heavier.
So personal it almost made Scarlett nervous.
She swallowed hard before finally speaking.
“You don’t have to keep fixing everything.”
The words came out softer than she intended.
Honest.
Dean’s eyes lifted to hers slowly.
“That’s not really your decision anymore.”
The possessiveness in his tone sent a dangerous wave of heat curling low in Scarlett’s stomach.
And suddenly every moment from the last few days replayed through her head all over again.
Will ignoring her.
Finding him with another girl.
Getting attacked at the cabin.
Dean showing up.
Dean protecting her.
Dean taking care of her.
Her chest tightened painfully.
Because no matter how hard she tried to deny it, Dean had been the only person consistently showing up for her when everything fell apart.
Something unreadable flickered across Dean’s expression then, almost like he realized he’d said too much.
His hand lingered against her jaw for one last second before he finally stepped back.
The sudden loss of warmth felt immediate.
Dean cleared his throat before tossing the ice pack lightly onto the counter.
“You should get some sleep.”
Right.
Sleep.
Scarlett nodded as she stood from the stool, but exhaustion hit her almost instantly the second she straightened fully.
Dean caught her wrist automatically before she could stumble.
The warmth of his hand against her skin sent goosebumps up her arm.
Dean looked down at her carefully.
“Told you you were limping.”
Scarlett rolled her eyes softly despite the blush crawling into her cheeks.
“You’re annoying.”
“And you’re exhausted.”
Scarlett opened her mouth to argue, then immediately gave up.
Dean let his fingers slide from her wrist slowly before stepping back.
The brief contact should not have affected her the way it did.
But for one confusing second, Scarlett caught herself wanting him to touch her again.
Wanting him to stay close instead of putting distance between them.
And that realization unsettled her far more than it should have.
Feeling conflicted about the lost contact.
Scarlett grabbed her duffel bag before starting toward the staircase, but halfway up she paused and looked back down toward the kitchen.
Dean was still standing there watching her.
And for one dangerous second, neither of them looked away.
“Goodnight, Dean.”
Something shifted briefly in his expression before he answered.
“Goodnight, princess.”
Scarlett wasn’t entirely sure how she made it upstairs without completely unraveling.
Sleep should have come easily after everything that happened, but the second Scarlett closed her eyes her thoughts turned restless all over again. The cabin. Will. Dean standing far too close in the kitchen while his hands touched her with a gentleness she still couldn’t stop thinking about.
Hours passed and she's still wide awake.
She tossed onto her side before dragging the blanket higher, frustrated with herself for replaying every second of it instead of sleeping. But the more she tried not to think about Dean, the worse it became.
The way he looked at her.
The possessiveness in his voice.
The way her body reacted every single time he touched her.
It was confusing enough without the guilt tangled up inside it too.
Eventually Scarlett let out a frustrated breath before shoving the blankets aside completely, giving up on sleep altogether.
She tugged her oversized hoodie lower before quietly making her way downstairs barefoot, following the soft light still glowing from the kitchen.
She slowed slightly when she saw Dean sitting alone at the counter.
The top buttons of Dean’s shirt hung undone now, exposing glimpses of tattooed skin beneath the low kitchen lights while his sleeves remained pushed up his forearms.
He looked tired, slightly disheveled, and unfairly attractive because of it.
Laptop open in front of him beside untouched coffee and stacks of paperwork.
He looked focused despite the exhaustion lingering beneath his eyes.
But the second he heard her footsteps, his eyes lifted immediately.
Straight to her.
“Couldn’t sleep?” he asked quietly.
- Writer
