Chapter 15- Aftermath
1566 Words
Scarlett
Will stood there for another long second.
Like he was waiting for her to say something.
Anything.
To stop him.
To explain.
To choose him.
Scarlett opened her mouth—
But nothing came out.
And somehow that hurt worse than the argument itself.
Will looked down briefly before laughing quietly under his breath.
Not amused.
Defeated.
“Yeah,” he muttered roughly while shaking his head once. “That’s what I thought.”
Scarlett’s chest tightened painfully.
“Will—”
But he was already backing away.
His eyes flicked toward Dean one last time.
The tension between them felt sharp enough to cut through the entire driveway.
Then Will climbed back into his truck.
A second later, headlights disappeared down the street.
Leaving silence behind.
Heavy silence.
Scarlett stared at the empty road long after he was gone.
Like her brain still hadn’t caught up to what just happened.
Dean stayed beside her quietly.
Not touching her.
Not pushing.
Just there.
And somehow that made everything harder.
Scarlett laughed quietly under her breath before dragging a shaky hand through her hair.
“I walked in on him cheating on me,” she admitted softly. “So why do I still feel guilty?”
Dean shut the truck door beside her.
“Because you care about people even when they don’t deserve it,” he said flatly.
The words hit Scarlett harder than she expected.
Because maybe that was true.
Maybe she had spent so much time trying to hold onto whatever was left of her relationship with Will that she ignored the fact that it had already been falling apart long before the cabin.
The distance.
The distraction.
The way he stopped really looking at her.
And then finding him with another girl.
Scarlett swallowed hard against the ache building in her chest.
“I don’t even recognize us anymore.”
Dean’s expression darkened slightly.
“That’s not your fault.”
The quiet certainty in his voice almost unraveled her completely.
Scarlett looked away quickly.
“I should probably go check on my dad before he thinks I died.”
Dean shoved his hands into his pockets.
“I’m coming with you.”
Scarlett blinked.
“You don’t have to—”
“I know.”
The simple answer shut her up instantly.
Dean started toward the front porch like he fully expected her to follow him.
Which annoyingly—
She did.
The tension from outside still lingered heavily between them as Scarlett unlocked the front door and stepped inside quietly.
The familiar smell of home hit her instantly.
Laundry detergent.
Coffee.
The old cedar candle her dad always burned in the evenings.
Something inside her chest tightened painfully.
“Dad?” she called softly.
A muffled voice answered immediately from deeper in the house.
“In here.”
Relief hit Scarlett instantly.
Dean stayed near the doorway silently while Scarlett walked farther inside.
Her father sat upright on the couch now instead of reclined, concern immediately crossing his face the second he saw her.
“Jesus Christ, Scarlett.”
The sharpness in his voice made her freeze.
He was already standing before she even reached him.
“What happened to your face?”
Scarlett instinctively touched the fading bruise near her cheek again.
“I’m okay.”
Her dad looked entirely unconvinced.
His eyes scanned over her quickly like he was checking for more injuries.
“Does that look okay to you?” he asked roughly.
Scarlett swallowed hard.
“I said I’m fine.”
Her father frowned harder now.
“Sweetheart, you were supposed to be at a cabin with Will until Sunday. Now you’re home early, bruised, and Dean’s the one standing next to you. What happened?”
Scarlett’s stomach twisted painfully.
The silence stretched too long.
Her dad’s expression shifted immediately.
Concern.
Confusion.
Protectiveness.
“Tell me Scar.”
Scarlett opened her mouth—
Then closed it again.
Because where the hell was she even supposed to start?
Dean stayed quiet near the doorway.
Giving her space.
But still there.
Always there.
Her father’s eyes narrowed slightly.
“Scarlett.”
The softness in his voice almost broke her.
Scarlett looked down quickly.
“There was a party,” she admitted quietly.
“Things got out of control.”
Her father went completely still.
“What do you mean out of control?”
Scarlett’s throat tightened painfully.
Dean answered before she could force the words out herself.
“She got hurt.”
The controlled calmness in his voice somehow made the entire situation sound even worse.
Her father’s attention snapped toward Dean immediately.
“Hurt how?”
Scarlett closed her eyes briefly.
God.
She didn’t want to do this right now.
Dean glanced toward her once before answering carefully.
“Some guys at the cabin crossed a line.”
The room went silent.
Her father’s face lost all color instantly.
Scarlett wrapped her arms tighter around herself automatically.
Nothing happened.
Dean stopped it.
But suddenly standing here in her living room, hearing it spoken out loud—
Everything felt horrifying all over again.
Her father looked at Scarlett slowly.
“Did somebody touch you?”
The question cracked something inside her chest.
Scarlett looked away immediately.
Dean stepped in before she had to answer.
“They didn’t get far.”
The coldness in his voice made it painfully obvious exactly what he thought would’ve happened if he hadn’t gotten there.
Her father dragged a shaky hand over his face.
“Sweetheart.”
The words came out almost breathless.
Then suddenly he was in front of Scarlett, gently holding her face between his hands while carefully looking over the bruise again.
“You should’ve called me.”
Emotion instantly burned behind Scarlett’s eyes.
“I know.”
“You should never have had to deal with that alone.”
That one hurt.
Because she HAD been alone.
Until Dean showed up.
Her father finally pulled her into a tight hug.
Protective.
Careful.
Shaking slightly.
“You scared the hell out of me, kid.”
Scarlett held onto him tighter.
For one brief second—
She let herself feel safe.
Then eventually her father pulled back enough to look at Dean again.
The protective concern was still there.
But now there was something else too.
Understanding.
“You got her out of there?”
Dean nodded once.
“That’s all that matters.”
The simple answer hit Scarlett harder than it should have.
Her father studied him carefully for another long moment before nodding slowly.
“Thank you.”
Dean looked uncomfortable for the first time all night.
Which honestly felt a little shocking.
“I’m just grabbing some clothes,” Scarlett said quickly before anyone could make this more emotional.
Her father immediately frowned again.
“You’re not staying here tonight?”
Scarlett hesitated.
And unfortunately—
That hesitation answered everything.
Her father’s eyes shifted slowly between her and Dean.
Again.
That look.
Like he was realizing far more than Scarlett wanted him to.
But surprisingly—
He didn’t push.
Instead he sighed heavily.
“Text me tonight.”
“I will.”
“And answer your phone this time.”
Scarlett winced slightly.
“Okay.”
Her father’s eyes shifted toward Dean again.
The protective concern in his expression hardened slightly.
“And Dean…” he said carefully. “Keep my daughter safe.”
The room went quiet for a second.
Dean didn’t hesitate.
“I will.”
The certainty in his voice sent warmth rushing unexpectedly through Scarlett’s chest.
Then she escaped down the hallway toward her bedroom before her emotions could completely betray her.
Her heart was still pounding embarrassingly hard by the time she shoved open her bedroom door.
Everything looked exactly the same.
And somehow completely different.
Scarlett grabbed a duffel bag from her closet before pulling clothes from drawers mindlessly.
But the second she caught sight of herself in the mirror—
She froze.
Bruised cheek.
Messy hair.
Bags under her eyes from the exhaustion.
God.
What was happening to her?
A soft knock sounded against the open doorway.
Scarlett looked up instantly.
Dean leaned casually against the frame watching her quietly.
And somehow him standing in her bedroom felt way too intimate.
“You ready?” he asked.
Scarlett nodded too quickly.
“Yep.”
Dean’s eyes flicked toward the half-empty bag laying open on her bed.
“You forgot half your stuff.”
Scarlett frowned.
“How would you know that?”
A faint smirk tugged at the corner of his mouth.
“You’re panic-packing, princess.”
Unfortunately—
He was right.
Again.
Dean walked farther into the room before reaching past her toward the dresser drawer beside her.
The movement brought him close enough that Scarlett caught the clean scent of his cologne immediately.
Her pulse stumbled.
Dean pulled open the drawer calmly before tossing another hoodie into her bag.
Then another pair of pants.
Like he belonged there.
Like this was normal.
Scarlett stared at him in disbelief.
“You’re weirdly comfortable in my room right now.”
Dean glanced at her briefly.
“You were two seconds away from packing emotional support socks.”
Scarlett rolled her eyes instantly.
“There’s the asshole again.”
Dean smirked slightly.
“There’s the brat again.”
Scarlett rolled her eyes again, but this time it came with the faintest hint of a smile.
- Writer
