Looking for Trouble(11)
“I’m fine,” Dylan said again as he stepped inside. “God, I can’t believe I lost it on you like that. You must think I’m—”
“Brave,” Clay found himself saying. It wasn’t something he’d planned, but the word had fallen from his lips all the same, and he knew it was true. “I think you’re very brave, and you obviously love your father very much. It took a lot of guts to drive here, not knowing what to expect. You don’t know me, and you’ve never been to the area, and yet you came because you wanted to do it for your father. You did it all without a reliable car and without knowing what would happen. That’s—”
“Stupid,” Dylan cut him off. “It was very stupid.”
He turned and walked farther inside, leaving the door open. Clay paused, took a deep breath, and then walked in, closing it behind himself. “Maybe it wasn’t the smartest thing to do, but that just makes it all the braver.” Clay wouldn’t have done it. He would have hidden away in his misery, pretended everything was fine, but he wouldn’t have done anything to change it.
Dylan sat on the edge of the bed and looked down. “Do you really think so?” he asked, his voice quiet. This Dylan was such a contrast from the one he’d met that night. Where he’d been confident and carefree then, tonight he was insecure and lost.
“I do.” Clay shuffled from one foot to the other, unsure what to do. He wasn’t the best at comforting people—not anymore. He’d learned to be in some ways for Gordon, because Gordon hadn’t let him get away with anything less. But now Gordon was gone, and Clay had gone even deeper into his shell than he had before.
“You can sit down, Sad Eyes. I don’t bite.”
“I know that,” Clay replied briskly, then asked, “Sad Eyes?”
“Oops. I didn’t mean to say that. It’s how I saw you that first night. Tonight too.”
That assessment of him was like a punch to the gut…and something he knew was true.
Dylan Sutton was nothing but trouble. Clay could see it now. Still, Clay sat beside him, exhaled a deep breath, and closed his eyes when Dylan leaned over and rested his head on his shoulder.
CHAPTER SEVEN
Dylan
Dylan knew he should get up, that he shouldn’t be leaning on Sad Eyes the way he was, but goddamn…he was so tired. So worn out. He just wanted…someone. He didn’t want to be alone. Was not wanting to be alone a bad thing?
Clayton had said he thought Dylan was brave. He didn’t feel anything close to that, but he wanted to be. He just didn’t really know how to do that. He was away from home, without family, or money, and he’d killed his father’s car. He wasn’t sure anything else could go wrong.
“I don’t know what happened between you and my father,” he told Clayton. “I know that whatever it was, he messed up. I know he hurt you, and I know he regretted it. He said you were one of the two best friends he ever had.”
The muscles in Clayton’s shoulder tightened against his cheek.
“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to say the wrong thing.” Though apparently he was pretty good at it.
“You didn’t say the wrong thing; not necessarily. It’s just…difficult.”
Dylan wasn’t sure how he knew Clayton wasn’t done speaking, but somehow, he did. So he waited, quietly, listening to Clayton breathe and focusing on the feel of his shoulder loosening beneath him.
“He was one of my best friends too.”
There was a melancholy edge to Clayton’s voice that landed in Dylan’s chest. Then…then his thoughts went all sorts of directions he’d never even considered before.
He darted away from Clayton, his back against the headboard. “Holy shit. You and my dad didn’t…” His dad had been straight as far as Dylan knew, but something about the pain in Clayton’s voice made him wonder if somehow there could have been more.
Oh God, what if he’d kissed and almost been fucked by someone his dad had hooked up with?
“What? No. Your dad would never have done that. He was most definitely straight.”
Okay…Dylan still wasn’t satisfied with that answer. He didn’t know why it should matter, but he couldn’t keep himself from asking, “Did you want to? Were you in love with him or something?” He didn’t think something like that would have come between them. Dylan couldn’t imagine his dad turning his back on his best friend because the man had feelings for him. God, how would it feel if he found out that was their history?
“No, I wouldn’t say that. Looking back, I guess I probably had some kind of crush on Mike, but I didn’t realize it at the time. I wasn’t in love with him, but I loved him.” Clayton chuckled humorlessly. “He was stubborn as hell, sort of moody at times, and always thought he was right, but he was also loyal and had a big damn heart. So yes, I loved him, but I wasn’t in love with him.”
Dylan didn’t figure that was something Sad Eyes gave away very easily—his love. He wondered how many people had actually earned it.
Clayton shook his head. “I don’t want to talk about Mike right now. I know you want to give me that letter, but I don’t know if I want to read it.”
“I understand.” And really, he did. Whatever had happened between them had obviously been heartbreaking. “But maybe you’ll change your mind. I know you want me out of your hair, and I can’t say I don’t understand why you do—though in my defense, you shouldn’t want me gone. I’m quite a good time.”