Dylan seemed focused. His jaw was clenched, left foot flat against the wall as his eyes remained trained on the opposite corridor. There was something about it that screamed Badboy. Maybe it was the posture of the simple pose, but I couldn't help think that he came straight out of Young adult fiction novel where the bad boy on the motorcycle showed up to get his girl. 

He turned back, noticing me as I stood rigidly in the doorway of the room. In a few short seconds, he went from being focused to perfectly and unreasonably annoyed. 

I took a step forward, stumbling slightly and leaning against the wall to balance my weight. Dylan walked over briskly. In the moments that followed, I stared foolishly at him as he extended his hand toward me, offering his help after he'd so carelessly insulted me. 

"Well?" he started, "Are you gonna accept my help or not?" Dylan shook his open palm in front of me. It was more force than a choice because if I didn't accept it, I didn't have a clue what would happen. After the manhandling of my face, I would probably be tossed over his shoulder and carried out like a caveman. 

I had nothing to say. My instinct would've been to retaliate with speech but instead I slipped my hand into his and allowed myself to be pulled forward. It was much-needed help, my legs were still weak and I was light as a feather. The trip to the elevator, then down those stairs and to reception could've been disastrous if it wasn't for Dylan being there.

At Reception, I signed what I needed to for my release, then, as Dylan ended his brief bit of flirting, he grabbed me by the arm and proceeded toward the door.  It was then I realized that I had nothing. No friend, no home, no family. I was completely dependent on the specimen of human that was next to me. By chance, he was the person I had shared a secret that only one other person in the world knew. 

Cancer was killing me and I was ready to die. 

As I walked out of Haywood Laney, I felt like my heart would stop at any minute. My whole world had been changed and I had slept right through it, tucked into a bed of white dreamless ignorance. My footsteps halted causing Dylan to slightly trip as his grip on my arm stopped him. He turned back immediately, wearing the face of someone who was about to deliver some cutting words, but there were none. He was silent. 

The tears that had begun to soak my face seemed to stop Dylan from delivering any more blows to my self-worth. I needed that. I needed some sympathy from him, even if it would last just as long as the tears did. 

Dylan seemed to sense what I felt. That loneliness. The reality that I was completely alone. That I had nothing and no one. The fact that, no matter how many times before I'd felt like there was no reason to go on, this was the time when it became real. When it became so true that I could die and no one would even know that I was gone. I pitied myself, but Dylan pitied me more. 

He scooped me up into his arms right outside the door of Haywood Laney. With my face buried in his shirt, sucking in deep heavy breaths that made me sound like I was having an asthma attack, he carried me to his car. The parking lot seemed to be far away, but he didn't hurry. He gave me time and walked at a leisurely pace not once uttering a word. '

Once at the car, Dylan gently lowered y feet to the ground. I leaned against the car instinctively. It was a silver Ford Mustang. I'd seen it a few times when leaving work, watching Dylan drive away with a lucky female employee. Now, it would be me who occupied the passenger seat but in a less than glamorous fashion. 

He opened the passenger side door, guided me in, and then pulled the seatbelt and clipped it over me but even then the tears continued to bathe me. I felt pathetic, useless, helpless. I felt empty. 

The driver's side door opened and Dylan slipped into the car. He pulled on his seatbelt quickly and started the engine as he straightened up. "I've already spoken to a few colleagues of mine about getting you a consultation and then hopefully started on treatment." Dylan paused, waiting for a response from me. When there was none he backed the car out and grumbled, "I'm not gonna sit by and watch someone die. Not again."

As we drove, I slowly dozed off the sleep, hypnotized by the sound of the engine as it hummed along the road. The next time I opened my eyes, I found myself no longer in the car, but in a room. The clicking sound that the ceiling fan made every few rotations was what woke me up. 

Dark blue sheets covered me from my shoulders all the way down to my toes. And inside the peach colored room, aside from floor length windows to the left and the door to the right, there was only a TV. 

"Wonder if Dylan Stone went out of his way to get me my own apartment?" I sat up cautiously, careful not to disturb the bed too much except for the side in which I slept. I recalled what happened last before I woke up and then decided to call for Dylan. After all, I wasn't gonna just start walking around, I had no clue where I was and if it was Dylan's house, self-exploration seemed rude without express permission. 

I cleared my throat, "Dylan? Dylan Stone?" I called continuously. After a few minutes and no response, I gave up. If Dylan or anyone else was there, they would get me when they saw fit.  No one did and my curiosity won out. 

I escaped into an empty hallway. In it, I found an even more vaguely decorated bathroom; Shower, toilet, and sink. As I continued down the hallway, I stumbled upon 2 locked doors, none of which gave me any indication as to what lay behind or if there was anyone else in the house. 

Taking a right, I turned into the apparent living room which was no different and only consisted of a single love seat and a large flat screen mounted against the far wall. A few more unidentifiable doors could be seen as I peered around the confusing layout of the house. I avoided them and instead decided to inspect the kitchen. 

So far, through my brief explorations, it seemed to be the only place in the house that was used. It was properly designed and beautifully decorated with marble countertops and solid wood cabinets that looked handcrafted.

All the large kitchen appliances looked to be state of the art and brand new, even the fridge had the store and delivery sticker still attached to the handle. The small appliance collection was impressive. Vitamix, Blender, Convection oven, even a professional grade 1200 WATT Microwave. 

"Did he seriously get all this stuff for me? What the hell, Stone? How do you expect me to pay you back for these?" I questioned, mumbling to myself and closely inspecting the 4 slice toaster that sat on the countertop. 

The silence around me became unexpected broken as Dylan spoke. "You called for me?" he asked from behind. I instinctively jumped, turning so quickly that I banged my hand into the faucet. "I was . . ." I shook my hand, biting my lip as the pain vibrated throughout my hand and wrist,  "a long time ago but you never responded." I answered. 

Dylan smiled, I assumed from the fact that I was near dancing to get rid of the pain that was causing my face to contort like a 5-year-old needing to use the bathroom. I took notice through squeezed eyelids that Dylan wasn't wearing much clothing. 

His flashy corporate attire was gone, replaced by messy, torn and paint riddled clothing. The shirt barely covered his chest and I was able to see, for the first and maybe the only time, that Dylan's tan extended far beyond his neckline. It was a glorious sight. 

It only occurred to me that the pain was gone and I had been completely focused, when Dylan said, "You're staring," as he walked past me. Embarrassed, I quickly closed my eyes and waited to see what Dylan was doing. 

From the fridge, he pulled out two neatly packed containers of food and placed them on the countertop along with a ceramic plate from the cabinet above the microwave. 

I rubbed my hand along my thigh, calmly gathering the courage to speak to him, "So, where am I exactly? I mean, there doesn't seem to be anybody living here so I thought that maybe. . ."

Dylan chuckled, cutting me off, "You're at my house, Lilith. And sorry for being rude but I'm a bit busy."He motioned to the things he'd laid out on the countertop, "These are for you. Please eat to your heart's content and once you're satisfied, I'll show you where your things are?"

As Dylan hurriedly left the room, I stepped around the counter and called after him, "My things are here so I thought I should say thank you, but I'm more concerned about when you had the time to move everything. You don't seem like the kind to put your life on hold for others." 

He glanced back at me from over his shoulder, "You're right. I'm not that kind of person but since you were out for eight days I had plenty of chances." The cold manner in which he'd spoke left chills on the back of my neck. 

Though I was grateful for Dylan's help, I hadn't asked for it so I felt especially wronged when I was treated like someone who needed more pity than the world had to offer. His icy tone and overall demeanor toward me was something that I didn't think I could tolerate for however long I would be there. 

"If you don't want me here then why are you helping me?" I asked. "Is it the pity?" My voice cracked and I quickly shut my mouth regretting the last ten plus words that had found their way through my lips. My thoughts and words matched but I didn't like being seen as a reproachful person. Maybe that was the reason I was stuck with Jenny for so long.

I'd always assumed Dylan was a nicer person. True he was someone interested mostly in sex and women, but what man wasn't. I just thought that he would at least be nice about it. Instead, I was coming to the realization that he was not nice. The person that everyone wanted, that they all clamored about, the man that Jenny was devising an entire 5-year plan around, he was completely different than the sordid individual that stood in front of me. 

I blinked, my eyes becoming dry and tired from the activity, and felt the air shifting toward me. I stood my ground, holding my breath as I waited for him to take action, but nothing of the sort was done. Dylan leaned over me where I stood near the countertop. I opened my eyes carefully and saw a change, his features had softened. I melted. 

"Uh . . ." I croaked. But Dylan shushed me, gently pushing his finger against my lips. 

"I'll only say this to you once," Dylan started, he pulled his finger away from lips and I instantly licked away the dryness with the tip of my tongue. He cocked an eyebrow, slightly pulling back his head in a moment of shock. 

 "Lilith, I'm not doing this for you. To be quite honest until you collapsed my only thoughts of you were what kind of underwear you wore. You don't appeal to me in a sexual way and you lack confidence. I hate that. However, you have the ability to give me something that I've desired for quite a long time." 

The embarrassment from what Dylan said threatened to strangle me. My lips trembled, parting just enough for those words that he had prompted to come forth. "And what's that?"

His lips moved carefully making sure I caught every syllable. My own heart was beating faster as if what he would say would have such an impact that it would cause me pain. It didn't. It confused me. The word Dylan uttered stumped me and I no matter how long I thought about it, I couldn't piece together anything that made sense. 

"Redemption."

He wanted redemption. 

A/N

Please do leave your comments below. I would love to hear your thoughts, maybe even if you could spot the changes or additional info that I put in there. Thank you all for reading once again, and be sure to vote. Good luck in the Watty's everyone.