Chapter 3
lost boy
RILEY
By the time I make it to the Upper West Side, it’s almost eight. I’m tired, sweaty, and irritated about using my precious free time to play babysitter to a grown man who should know better than to ghost his entire family.
The annoyance quickly turns into guilt, though. What he’s going through is horrific, and he deserves compassion.
Ugh, I’m so conflicted.
Also mildly anxious. Why do I care this much?
The doorman, James, buzzes me in with a nod, no questions asked. This isn’t the first time I’ve shown up in the last two months. It’s becoming a fucking habit, and I’m not sure how I feel about it.
On the slow ride up to the penthouse, I mull over my life choices, from dating guys who turn out to be assholes to coming to Hade’s rescue the moment I’m asked.
He’s fine; he’s going to be fine. I’ve repeated those words since I stepped out of the studio, but the tiny voice in the back of my mind continues to challenge me with questions like, What if he’s not?
It’s not just that Hayden isn’t answering calls or texts.
It’s not just that he’s isolating again.
It’s the pattern. Since Owen’s death, he’s been through so many cycles like this.
Some days, he’s as lively as he’s ever been, but those days are inevitably followed by days of silence—and those have been more frequent over the last several weeks.
The way he’s declining lately scares me.
So does how easily he brushes off the concern any time one of us brings it up.
He says he’s grieving, but it’s so much deeper than that.
According to Piper, he’s stopped writing music.
The label gave the band a year off to grieve, but now, it looks like that was a disservice.
When he’s in the kind of state I assume he’s in today, he shuts himself away. He refuses to fly home to California to see his family. He won’t even hang out with Jimmy and Bo.
I know what depression looks like—hell, I lived it.
I fucking danced through it, smiling and playing it cool while the stress of trying to be the best of the best and fighting for ballet roles was burning me alive.
I know how good a person can be at hiding their worst parts when they don’t want to burden those they care about.
And Hade is really damn good at it.
The desire to hide our pain can be strong, but holding it inside hurts more. I can help him, but only if he lets me.
I tap the key card he gave me when he bought this penthouse several years ago, and when the lock clicks open, I take a deep breath and brace myself. You can do this, Riley.
Inside, the only sound comes from the TV. I close the door and kick off my shoes, easing my duffel bag to the floor before I wander down the dark hallway toward the glow of the screen.
His living room is massive, but it feels empty.
There’s no natural light today, with the curtains drawn over the floor-to-ceiling windows overlooking the city.
The charcoal gray sectional is half-buried under a crumpled throw blanket and a pile of his clothes.
The grand piano in the corner takes up a fair amount of space, but it’s covered in stacks of unopened mail.
If I took a closer look at the guitar in the stand beside it, I’d probably find dust. Empty containers and glass bottles litter the coffee table.
The air smells like stale takeout and weed, the only movement the flicker of light across Hade’s face as he sits slumped on the couch.
He’s in a black hoodie, hood pulled up, and black sweatpants. His attention is glued to the screen, but he’s wearing a vacant look, like he’s not actually seeing the movie. His phone is face down on the coffee table, probably on silent.
Straightening my spine, I step further into the room.
“Seriously?” I put my hands on my hips. “You can’t answer a single phone call or text because you’re too busy watching Fast & Furious?”
Hayden jumps slightly, his wide eyes meeting mine, his mouth open.
“I never should’ve given you a key,” he rasps.
His words sting, but he’s hurting, so I let them slide. “Hunter and Piper are freaking out,” I say, moving closer. “As are your parents. I’ve sent a million texts, four voicemails. Each one was increasingly aggressive, so I’m sorry in advance.”
He sits up, but he won’t meet my eye. Instead, his focus drifts back to the movie.
My blood heats with anger. I’m too tired for this behavior. “Hayden, what’s going on?”
“Sorry. I put my phone on silent.”
“The issue with your phone is secondary.” I stop in front of the TV so he can’t ignore me. “You disappeared on everyone. Again.”
“Everything’s just…loud.” He roughs a hand down his face.
It’s not the first time he’s used that word. Not painful, not stressful. Loud. Like his thoughts are screaming inside his head, but no one else can hear them.
I ease onto the cushion beside him and take him in. God, it’s fucking worse than I thought. His dark green eyes are rimmed red, his usually clean-shaven jaw covered in thick stubble.
My heart aches for him.
Why are you doing this to yourself, Hayden?
The man looks like he’s fading away.
Words bubble inside my throat, but none of them feel right. They won’t fix this situation. A single visit won’t either. I need to show up, again, and again, and again, until he understands I’m here for him no matter what.
So, I swallow my words and sit beside him.
After what feels like an eternity, he turns to me. “So. The date. How’d it go?”
I groan. Why did I mention it the last time I was here? “I don’t think I want to go there.”
“I need the distraction. I’m bored.”
“And whose fault is that? Last week, you promised you’d get out more.”
“I always keep my promises, Ry baby.”
Fuck him. Why does he need to say my name like that?
“I went to see a friend two days ago, but her life is not as entertaining as yours.” He frowns, as if the thought of this person irritates him. “Please.”
“Fine.” I sit back and stare at the ceiling. “The date was good, and I had high hopes. But…turns out, he’s married. Found out today, when he came to pick up his daughter from my ballet class, wedding ring and wife in tow.”
He drops his head back and lets it loll to the side. “Are you serious?”
Blinking back the sting of tears, I face him. “Mm-hmm.”
“Jesus.”
I focus on the ceiling again, my chest tightening. “I’m the biggest loser of all time when it comes to love and relationships. I genuinely think I’m cursed. Maybe someone hexed me, and I’m forever cursed to attract emotionally unavailable men and pathological liars.”
He chuckles throatily. “You’re not cursed.”
I huff a humorless laugh. “I’m chronically unlucky, and I have the data to prove it. Years of receipts. At this point, my love life is nonexistent, and my relationship history is a tragicomedy.”
“I’m sorry. You deserve better.” His voice is deep, guttural.
Brows furrowed in surprise, I study him. He’s angry for me. It’s weirdly comforting—and maybe a little heartbreaking, because he clearly doesn’t believe he deserves better.
“Thanks.” I tamp down the urge to reach out and touch him. “I’m going out with Nastya this Friday. Gonna drink tequila and dance until we’re too exhausted to stand. I need to let loose a little. It will do me a lot of good.”
His expression turns more thoughtful, his lips tugging down.
A heavy emotion shifts behind his eyes, but he doesn’t speak.
He doesn’t let it out. Not just with me, but with anyone.
He never told me what happened to Owen. I know nothing outside of what is available on the web, and he didn’t tell Piper either.
It’s eating him alive. He’s consumed with guilt, but I don’t understand why.
“I should probably go,” I say.
“Maybe you can stay,” he says, his voice barely audible. “Watch Fast & Furious with me?”
The request sends a thrill through me, but I’m afraid of who I am when he’s around, of what being near him does to my body, my head, my heart.
I want to stay, to keep him company, to be here for him, but spending more than a few minutes with him is a terrible idea. Plus, I have an early class tomorrow.
With a sigh, I rub my chest. “It’s late. I’ve got a bunch of little ladies to teach at eight a.m.”
“Next time then.” He gives me a half smile, a pretense at best.
I stand slowly and hover over him. “Will you please turn your phone on? That way the family won’t send a search party—a.k.a. me—again.”
He brings a hand to his face in a quick salute. “Yes, ma’am.”
“Eat something healthy. And go take a shower, for God’s sake. You need to take care of yourself.”
That gets a laugh. A real one, low and tired, but real. It works its way under my skin, flows deep in my veins, and heads straight to my heart.
Before the sensation causes me to drop back onto the couch and give in to the temptation to stay longer, I turn and stride for the elevator. “Bye, Hade,” I yell over my shoulder.
“See you, Ry baby.”
Without my permission, a smile blooms on my face. At least he can’t see it. He doesn’t need to know I have a crush on him. He doesn’t need to know I’m still that silly schoolgirl who fell in love with her sister’s best friend.
At the mouth of the dark hallway, I turn back and survey him one last time.
Hayden doesn’t look lonely. He looks lost.
And I hate my stupid heart for how badly it wants me to find this lost boy.