“Ohhh, don’t, Dylan.” She hugged her knees and, dropping her forehead down to rest on her knees, rocked gently back and forth. “Don’t do that,” she sniffed.

He sat up and put an arm around her, but she shrugged him off.

“Don’t do what? What did I do?”

She ran her hand across her face. “Don’t be nice to me. Don’t call me Sweetheart.” She took a deep breath and wiped her hands on her jeans.

“Oh I see. It’s easier to remain coolly distant if I am not nice to you.”

She nodded mutely, not looking at him.

“Well, I can’t help it. I’m just a nice guy.”

Chelsea had to laugh, in spite of herself. What a crazy day this had been...

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