Dex is more than just a safety net. He’s a reminder that there are good people out there.
That I deserve to surround myself with better people.
And for the first time in a long time, I believe it.
CHAPTER 138
A FRIENDLY FACE
MARGAUX
Dex arrives at Sunset Cay just after noon, his presence impossible to miss. He strides out of the airport with a leather jacket slung over his shoulder, tattoos curling up his arms and disappearing under the fabric. His long brown hair is tied back in a messy man bun, and his sharp green-and-hazel eyes scan the arrivals area until they land on me.
My breath catches. He’s even hotter than I remembered—or imagined. His outdated social media photos don’t do him justice. He radiates a quiet confidence, and an intensity that makes my pulse quicken.
“Margaux,” he says, his voice low and warm, and suddenly, every feeling I’ve been trying to suppress comes rushing back.
“Dex,” I manage, my voice small and shaky.
He pulls me into a hug—brief but firm, grounding. “It’s so good to see you,” he says, pulling back to look at me. His gaze is filled with concern, and I can’t help but avert mine, afraid of what he might see if he looks too closely.
We don’t say much as we drive back to the apartment. Dex doesn’t push, doesn’t ask questions I’m not ready to answer.He’s just here. Solid. A quiet, protective presence that feels like a shield against the lingering chaos.
Later, Dex checks into a hotel nearby, giving me space without even needing to be asked. It’s considerate, just like him.
But as the evening wears on, the fear creeps back in. I haven’t received official word that Timmy has left the Cay yet, and every creak of the apartment feels like a harbinger of his return.
I text Dex.
Me:
Can you come stay in the spare room?
His reply is immediate.
Dex:
Of course. Be there in ten.
When he arrives, he’s carrying his duffel bag and wearing a loose tank top that shows off even more tattoos. He doesn’t comment on the nervous energy radiating from me. He just gives me a small smile and heads to the spare room without hesitation.
“I’ll be right here if you need anything,” he says, and the reassurance in his voice feels like a warm blanket.
For days, I avoid looking directly at Dex for too long. His intense, searching gaze is unnerving, like he can see through all the walls I’ve carefully built around myself—every time he’s glanced at me, I’ve looked away.
Scared of what I’ll find if I look too deeply, because I trusted the kindness in Timmy’s eyes, and look where that got me.
But tonight, as we sit on the mattress that serves as my bed and couch, surrounded by the remnants of my old life—items to be packed, donated, or trashed—I finally meet his eyes. I see himfully for the first time, and I’m ready for him to see me—all of me—no matter what that means.
Even if he can’t handle my darkness, I’m willing to risk it all.
His gaze doesn’t waver, either. It’s steady, calm, but full of something I can’t quite name.
Not pity.
Not judgment.
Just…understanding.