Chapter 29
Dylon
T here’s a light blinking on the hotel phone when I open my eyes. The clock reads 7 a.m. I’m going to be late for the plane. Leaving the bottle on the nightstand, I retrieve my phone from the bathroom, and there’s no time for the number of missed calls and texts.
I open my rideshare apps and realize with the traffic, it will be faster if I run home. The elevator is too slow so I plow down the stairs and out of the lobby at a dead run.
In hindsight, I should’ve called or texted Lars to ask him to grab some suits for me. He might have left without me. If we were together, he’d be hustling me out the door.
The professionals on their way to work do not appreciate a six-foot-tall man running like the world is ending. They yell obscenities at me, but I can’t slow down.
The doorman looks relieved and hurries to push the elevator button for me. I’m out of breath as I key in the code to our apartment and am shocked to run into Finn with a murderous expression.
“If you don’t have a good excuse for this, I’ll make your life miserable,” he hollers.
Lars flies in from the other room, and I think he’s going to crash into me, but he pulls back and I glance at a stoic Patrik .
“Are you okay?” Lars pats me down, searching for injuries. “Where did you sleep? We were worried sick.” His hair sticks up like he’s been running his fingers through it, and his dress shirt is buttoned wrong.
“I was at a hotel. I texted. No big deal,” I say defensively. I regret the words as soon as I say them. Again, the words echo from my past.
Lars rears back as if I’ve struck him, and his hands fall from my shoulders. “You were not fine. Your message was incoherent. I thought you were dead.” His voice shakes.
“That’s dramatic, isn’t it?” I joke to lighten the mood. A horrible mistake.
The pain on Lars’s face is hauntingly real, and Patrik makes a sound of disgust.
“I’m here.” Trevor backs into me, swinging the door I left ajar fully open, wheeling Patrik’s luggage. He throws his arms around me. “Thank god! We were going out of our minds with worry.”
“I went to a hotel,” I say dumbly, and Trevor clucks his tongue.
“Here’s your fucking suitcase, Mr. It’s No Big Deal,” Finn spits out and thrusts it at me. “You’re fucking welcome, asshole.”
“What’d I do?” Attempting to shield myself from their anger, I cross my arms protectively over my chest. I already went through hell and need support, not a lecture. I’m barely a functioning human, and I need my friends. Need a hug. Something besides their disapproval and anger.
Patrik speaks in Czech, and from his tone and the look on his face, he’s pissed at me.
“I know, Snug.” Trevor stands on his toes and grabs Patrik’s cheeks. “Vince is downstairs, so kiss me goodbye.”
“You have your keys?” I ask Lars, wanting to get him alone to explain what happened. That I left yesterday for us. For our future. For him.
“He’s not driving.” Finn punches my arm. “None of us slept last night.” He circles his finger to the group.
“I didn’t ask for that.” I should apologize for worrying them, but they have no idea how hard last night was. They don’t know anything, but I’m the villain. I sent a text so this wouldn’t happen.
“No, you just went to a hotel and ignored us all. Now I’m doing damage control because you couldn’t follow instructions.” Finn storms out, and Lars follows behind him without a word.
It takes me three seconds to throw a suit on and grab the handle of my bag, rolling it awkwardly to the elevator where Lars won’t look at me, and Patrik and Trevor are exchanging I-love-yous.
The car and plane ride suck ass. Lars won’t speak to me and sits with Patrik for our nonstop flight to Germany. I left for one night. One. I didn’t hurt anyone. Anyone but me.
“Has Finn killed you for the picture yet?” Austin asks from across the aisle.
“What picture?” All my nerves are frayed, needing sleep without temptation.
“Dude, you’re like a viral meme. Where have you been?” He hands over his phone, and there’s a GIF of me almost falling and Lars catching me with my Halloween costume belly and the shirt declaring me Lars’s property. “I can’t believe he hasn’t called you yet.”
I pull out my phone, still in silent mode, and scroll. Along with Lars, Finn, and Patrik there are also missed calls from my sponsor and Ari Dimon.
I’m so fucking screwed.
Mr. Dimon boards the plane and beckons me to his executive lounge. He sits and motions for me to do the same in the seat across from him. Back here, the seats face each other.
“Finn has explained his role in the costume and has offered his resignation.” He steeples his fingers.
“No! He told me not to wear it in public, and I never thought about pictures on the way to the car. It’s my fault.” Shit. No wonder Finn hates me right now.
“I’m concerned that in the middle of a potential scandal, he couldn’t reach you, which means he can’t do his job.” He raises an eyebrow, as if expecting me to challenge his statement.
“Again, that was my fault.” I scramble for part of the truth. “I got some potentially bad news, and I needed to be alone to process it, so I turned my phone off and stayed at a hotel.” Words tumble out, and his eyes narrow, about to call bullshit. “My family isn’t supportive of my sobriety, and I’ve been leaning on Lars so much that I kinda needed to do this on my own. I didn’t know about the picture, or I would’ve responded immediately. I just took a day to refocus my priorities, and it was the wrong fucking day. Sir,” I add because I should not swear in the presence of my boss.
Mr. Dimon flashes a smile before he schools his features. “I don’t like surprises, and if I find out you’re lying to me, you will be in violation of the code of conduct for your contract. I count on you to be available if needed. Full transparency, your sexuality or partner of choice is not my concern. My concern is your dedication to this team and the people who keep it running.”
“Sir, please don’t make Finn pay for my mistakes.” I can’t imagine this job without his snarky and knowledgeable input.
He nods sharply. “Is there anything I can do to help with your family situation?”
I blink at his unexpected offer. “No, but thank you. This is something I need to handle on my own.”
I have to make this right with Lars so I pass my seat and intend to ask Patrik to switch with me. They don’t see me from behind with their heads tilted together.
Lars’s voice is low and devastated. “I thought we felt the same, but he’s unbothered I was out of my mind, sick with worry. Dylon lives on emotion and always cares about other people. How do I deal with his indifference? I wonder if I matter at all.”
His palpable agony stops my heart. Any lingering anger and frustration evaporate. A pillar of sobriety is responsibility. Although I didn’t intend to hurt him, I did. Addiction is inherently selfish, and that’s what I was yesterday.
He doesn’t sound like a man who wants to break things off.
I.
Fucked.
Up.
“Mr. Felix, please take your seat for takeoff.” A flight attendant gently ushers me to my seat, away from Lars.
The next time I approach Lars, he’s sleeping and Patrik scowls at me. “Ve didn’t sleep all night. Talk later,” he says, not interested in my excuses .
I should have listened when he needed to talk, but my insecurities and fear led me to run away.
Slumping in my seat, I wait until after takeoff to text my sponsor and tell her I’m safe and ask if we can make time to talk when I land in Germany. I don’t wait for a response and turn my phone off. I read the text I sent Lars from the hotel, and it’s a jumble of words that do not make any sense and I understand his overreaction was valid. Complete fuckup, party of one.
It’s chaos at the airport and hotel. With everyone fucking running their mouths about our meme, there’s no time to talk to Lars privately.
Once we have our room assignments, I knock on Lars’s door. The need to plea for forgiveness claws at my throat, but first I have to apologize. I knock again, checking my phone so I don’t look like a complete asshole.
Benz exits his room, dressed to go out. “Hey, Lars left. Come with us since we’ll all be jetlagged, we might as well…” He stops himself with a look of horror on his face. Obviously, they’re going drinking.
“Nah, thanks for the offer. Have fun.” My room is down the hall and around the corner. Lars hasn’t left me behind in over a year. Even before I moved in, we were close and did everything together. Every once in a while, he’d want to stay in, needing some solitude so I’d go out with the guys without him, but never, not ever, the other way around.
This can’t be the end.