Chapter Nine #2
“I don’t know,” I tell him, honestly. “We shouldn’t assume the worst. There are other possibilities. He could just be hiding from Kirkland or someone else.”
He nods, his features smoothing. “Yeah, that makes sense.”
His face brightens, and I force myself not to react.
I know the jealousy swelling in my chest is wrong and not fair to Dylan.
What we had was years ago. We’d been kids.
Of course, he’d been with other people. I had, too.
But sitting here, so close to Dylan again, and knowing he wants someone else makes my throat tight.
“Do you love him?” I shouldn’t ask. I don’t want to hear the answer, but I can’t help myself.
He shoots me a confused frown. “Who?”
“Matthew.” Who else?
“I told you already, we’re not together.”
“You’re going through a lot of trouble for someone you’re not with.”
He sighs and leans back on his hands, eyeing me speculatively. “We’re just friends. That is probably as far as it goes. He works for me, and we’re friendly.”
“You’ve hired an investigator, put your life on hold to check out some middle-of-nowhere town with your ex, making things extra awkward, for someone you’re just friendly with?”
Dylan smirks. “It’s not that awkward.”
I shoot him a pointed look. “If you say so.”
“Seriously, it’s been good being with you again.”
Those eyes, dark blue like the deep end of the ocean, hold my gaze.
I can feel myself sinking into his depths, but I drag my gaze away before I drown.
Instead, I focus on gathering the napkins, the empty soda can and water bottle, then stand and dump them into the trash can next to the desk.
“Do you feel responsible for him? Is that why this is so important to you?”
“I mean, in all the time I knew Matthew, he never mentioned family or friends. If I didn’t look for him, I’m not sure anyone would. I don’t know who I could even call to tell them he’s missing.” He kind of reminds me of myself.
“After I left home, my car broke down, and some creep robbed me and tried to shove me into his trunk.”
My insides ice over at the thought of what could have happened to him. He’d been so fucking young to be out on his own like that. “Holy shit, did you report him?”
“Um, no. I was trying to keep a low profile and actively avoiding the police. Anyway, I was exhausted, freezing and soaking wet from the rain when I shuffled into The Maple Shade. George, the man who ran the place, could have tossed me right back out into the rain, but he didn’t.
Instead, he gave me a job and a place to stay, and I guess I was trying to do the same for Matthew. I know what it’s like to have no one.”
Me. You could have had me, but you left me behind. I keep the thought to myself, though. There’s no point in rehashing the past. It’s water under the bridge now.
Dylan hauls himself to his feet, scoops up the pizza box and sets it on the dresser. Before facing me again, the few feet between us feels like miles, and despite promising myself to leave the past behind us, I blurt out. “I thought you were dead.”
He blinks, confused. “Me?”
“You left my place late.” After you dumped my ass. “And you never made it home. No one heard from you again. It was years later, back when I first started with the Burlington PD, that I looked you up and knew for sure you were still alive.”
Dylan sinks down onto the edge of the bed, as if his legs have given out from under him. He looks stunned, as if the possibility that I would have wondered what had happened to him hadn’t occurred to him. “Shit. Hunter, I’m sorry. I thought you knew and have figured it out.”
“Figure what out?” What’s he talking about?
“It was my parents. They’d been threatening to send me to one of those wilderness camps to fix my behavior.”
I knew about his parents’ plans for him. It was one of the reasons he’d agreed to tutor me. What better way to show his parents he’d turned over a new leaf and put the drinking and smoking and fighting behind him than to help a dumb jock figure out trig?
“There’d been a couple of black SUVs in the driveway when I got back from your place.
I didn’t go home that night. I drove right past and kept on driving.
After that, I had to keep a low profile until I turned eighteen.
I couldn’t risk them finding me. Anyway, I thought word would have spread that my parents tried to send me away, and you would have known why I had to leave. ”
“Shit.” I drag my fingers through my hair. “I didn’t hear anything when I got back to school on Monday. Maybe no one else knew.”
“Maybe.” His teeth tug at his bottom lip, his dark brows drawing together in a thoughtful frown.
Then he smiles, his expression lightens, and I can feel it in my chest. “I spent years looking over my shoulder, afraid my parents would drag me home and send me away, but what if they never even looked? What if they were relieved I was gone?”
I remembered his parents. I only met them once, but they struck me as disinterested at best. I’d always believed that all their threats to send him to one of those wilderness camps had been more about curbing Dylan’s behavior because they’d been embarrassed, not because they’d been concerned about his welfare.
“I can look into it for you.” I’m not sure what to say. I’m not really his boyfriend. Hell, we’re not even friends anymore. “I could see if they filed a missing person report.”
He lets out a humorless chuckle, falls back against the mattress, and scrubs both hands down his face. “No, it’s fine. They’re not my family anymore, if they ever were.”
The sight of him stretched across the bed, hair falling back from the fine, straight lines of his face, shirt bunched up from his waist, exposing his smooth, hard stomach, makes my mouth go dry and my skin hot.
I want to kiss him again. I want to cover his body with mine, lick into his mouth while his slender frame wraps around me.
Fuck! What the hell is wrong with me? I’m a grown-ass man. How am I still lusting after Dylan Moore like a teenage infatuation?
I let out a slow breath. I’m tired, that’s all. I just need to sleep, and when I wake up, everything will be back to normal tomorrow, or as normal as it can be while you’re tracking down your ex-boyfriend’s friend.
“So how do you want to do this?” I ask, nodding at the bed. “Take turns sleeping on the floor and the bed?”
Dylan pushes up on his elbows. “We’re grown men. I think we can share the bed without something happening.”
I huff out a laugh. “What if I want something to happen?”
The words leave my mouth before I can stop them. Dylan goes still, and I want to bang my head against the wall. What the hell is wrong with me?
I open my mouth to try to play it off as a joke, but Dylan’s gaze meets mine, his guarded expression impossible to read.
“I’d be okay with that.”