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her body in such a way. It was difficult for even Dylan to understand. Even with his hands all over her, his discipline was something she couldn’t comprehend. She could feel him against her and she was well aware of his arousal, but not even then would he act on it.                                                       
    She rolled over and sighed as she looked out her window. The sun had not risen and her day was far from beginning. Despite the fact that it was still early, she could not manage to make herself go back to sleep.
    She stood to her feet and slid on a pair of oversized pajama bottoms. She slipped a sweatshirt over her head and walked out of her bedroom, making her way down the stairs.
    In the kitchen, the lights were all off, but the dawn sky was just enough light for Dylan to see. She stood over the sink and watched as Ben disappeared over the wall, and headed for his mother’s house.
    He was still shirtless. His body seemed to improve over the years, not that it needed to. There was a more chiseled appearance in his chest now. His muscles and tone were sharp, perfectly forming the angles that put his body together. His pelvic bone made a faultless V as it traveled down into his pants, driving her mad as she tried not to look at him.
    “Morning,” Linda called from behind Dylan. “What are you looking at?”
    Dylan nearly jumped out of her skin. “Nothing. I’m just looking.”
    “Are you hungry?”
    “Not yet.”
    “I’m going to make a big breakfast in honor of your brothers being home. Did you see Hugh and Brandon last night?”
    “Yes. Hugh only stayed a few minutes and Brandon brought me home. I have no idea where Charlie went.”
    “Charlie’s here. Why did Brandon drive you home?” Linda poured her coffee and raised an eyebrow at Dylan. “What was wrong with your car?”
    “I did too many shots.”
    “Oh, Dylan,” Linda said, shaking her head.
    “Jonah left his car there. Are you going to be angry at him?”
    “I’m not angry. I just don’t understand how you can go to work and come home drunk,” Linda answered, unprepared for her daughter’s snap.
    “No one was drunk, Mom.”
    Linda lifted her hands in peace. “Alright, I’m sorry.” She quickly changed the subject. “Do you think Ben will have breakfast?”
    “How should I know what Ben will have?” Dylan felt attacked even though she wasn’t.
    “Well, isn’t he here?”
    “No. Stop asking me questions.”
    “I think you should go back to bed, Dylan. You’re being really snippy.” Linda narrowed her eyes and stared. “What’s wrong?”
    “I just want you to let me breathe without hovering over my life every five seconds,” Dylan hissed. “Get a boyfriend or something.”
    “Oh yes, I’m the one who needs a boyfriend,” Linda snapped.  “I’m not the one flipping out on people for no reason.”
    Immediately Dylan felt the strong, stinging feeling of guilt consume her chest. Her mother, wife turned widow when Carl Mathews lost his battle with cancer more than nine years before, planned to never replace her husband.
    “I’m sorry, Mom. I just want you to stop hovering.”
    “I wasn’t trying to hover,” Linda replied. “I don’t even know what I said wrong.”
    “Nothing. You said nothing.”
    Linda put her arms around Dylan’s shoulders and surrendered. “I’m sorry. I just love you.” She waited for Dylan’s inevitable smile. “Help me with breakfast?”
    “Fine,” Dylan answered, attempting to cover her childish grin.
    Ben stepped in through the sliding glass door just in time for breakfast. He was showered and dressed in clean clothes. His brown hair was still wet and looked towel dried with no trace of evidence that a comb had gone through it yet.
    “Where’d you go?” Jonah asked.
    Ben smiled. “You were snoring, so I left.”
    Dylan felt her cheeks flush with red. She refused to look at his face while he stood above her,