Looking for Trouble(38)
Remember our pact? I’ve been thinking about that a lot. We were crazy kids, but we were crazy together. My memories with you—you, me, and April—are some of the best I have. The two of you and Dylan are the most important people I’ve ever had in my life. I’m sorry I lost sight of that. I’m sorry I hurt you.
Forgive yourself. You deserve it. Know that I’ve always loved you, you’ve always been my best friend, even when I didn’t show it.
I hope life has treated you well, and I know I don’t have the right to ask any favors of you, but can you keep an eye on Dylan? He’s a good kid. He doesn’t always see it. He reminds me of you in that way. He has this big, bleeding heart and takes the weight of the world on himself, blames himself for things he shouldn’t. His mama left him, and I think he feels like it’s his fault. He doesn’t have anyone in the world when I’m gone. I’ll rest easier knowing he has you.
Love always,
Mike
Clay’s chest tightened, his eyes stung.
“Clay?” Dylan said, voice soft, as he approached. He wore only a T-shirt and a pair of boxer trunks. His eyes darted to the letter, then to Clay’s face. “I’m sorry. I didn’t realize. I’ll give you some space.”
Clay wrapped his hand around Dylan’s wrist and tugged him to his lap. Dylan went easily, arms around Clay’s shoulders, his legs over the arm of the plastic chair, as Clay held him, squeezed him tight, thankful he was there, and cried.
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
Dylan
Dylan closed his eyes, ran his hand through Clay’s hair and shushed him, let Clay hold him as he cried.
It was a foreign experience for him, being able to be there for someone like that, supporting someone instead of being the one who needed support. The fact that it was Clay, this man who didn’t seem to need anyone—no, it wasn’t that he didn’t need anyone, but that he never allowed himself to show it—made the moment swim deeper into his chest.
The paper made a crumbling sound as Clay’s hold on him tightened. The sun was just peeking over the lake, dawn waiting for them. When Dylan had woken, pleasantly sore and reaching for Clay, even though he knew he shouldn’t, he’d been crushed but not surprised to find the bed empty.
He hadn’t even noticed the letter was gone, had just gotten up and seen Clay, shoulders slumped, by the pond. God, he’d wanted to go to him, felt the need bubble in his chest, but he hadn’t been sure he should. Then? Then he hadn’t given a fuck because he’d been able to tell just by seeing him from behind that Clay was upset, and that had been all that mattered.
An unexpected anger shot through him when he realized what had hurt Clay was the letter from his father, the one Dylan had come to deliver. Had it been a mistake? Had his dad not tried to make amends the way he’d told Dylan he was? No, that didn’t make sense. His father wasn’t like that.
“I’m sorry. I feel terrible that I brought this letter here and it’s hurting you.” He’d done a whole lot of hurting Clay since he’d arrived, demanding he confront a past he obviously didn’t want to confront. But then, if he hadn’t come, he wouldn’t have met Clay, and even the thought of that felt wrong.
“No.” Clay shook his head and wiped his eyes. “Don’t be sorry, Trouble. Christ, I can’t believe I lost it like that. I don’t do that.”
“You can do it with me,” Dylan replied, not sure if it was the right thing to say, but it was how he felt.
“I know.” Clay looked at him, his eyes searing Dylan’s soul and making him tremble.
“Are you cold? You can go inside.” Clay ran his hands up and down Dylan’s legs.
“No. I want to stay out here with you.”
“We might break the chair.”
“I don’t care about that either. It’s not my chair.” Dylan winked, earning a smile from Clay. “Do you want to talk about it?”
“No,” Clay replied, and Dylan’s heart stumbled. He shouldn’t be surprised. What was so special about him that Clay would want to share with him? “But I think I need to…with you.”
Dylan’s pulse sped. He wanted to be that for Clay, so badly. Wanted to be someone Clay could go to. “Okay, whenever you’re ready, Sad Eyes.”
Clay’s lids fluttered, closed for a moment before he took a deep breath, his chest moving against Dylan’s side. “Mike, April, and I were best friends. We were always together. I don’t know how much you know about your dad’s childhood, but his dad wasn’t around. He was always making promises to Mike he didn’t keep, and that hurt him a lot. But he had us—April and me—and that helped.”
“I knew that…about his dad. He told me he always wanted to be a father…that the most important thing for him was to be a better father to me than his had been to him.”
“He told me that too once, that he would never be like his dad. I knew he wouldn’t be. He was too good a man. He wanted to be a good father all his life.”
“Yeah,” Dylan replied, heavy melancholy weighing him down. “He was a good man and dad.”
Clay’s hold on him tightened, and Dylan appreciated the support.
“He fell in love with April. God, he loved her. He wanted to love her in ways his own dad hadn’t loved his mom. He wanted that dream family with her, ya know?”