Looking for Trouble(45)
Plus, he couldn’t help but factor Clay into it. Would he want to stay here if it wasn’t for him?
“Of course. That’s why I mentioned it now.” Troy nodded toward the road. “Should we head back? I can drive you home if you don’t want to wait for Clay to get off work.”
He hated that, hated that he had to depend on everyone for everything. “Yeah, let’s go. And I can wait for Clay.”
Troy nodded, and the two of them began walking toward the Dancing Unicorn. They were almost to Clay’s Custom Ink when Dylan said, “Thanks. No matter what happens, thanks for giving me a chance and being so good to me.”
“Of course.” Troy grinned. “What are friends for?”
Those words meant more to him than Troy would ever know.
CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR
Clay
Clay couldn’t believe he was doing this. He’d been thinking about the upcoming trip for a good two weeks, trying to figure out what he was going to do. At first, he’d thought he would cancel it, but then he’d realized he couldn’t do that. He needed it. Clay had been going for the same dates ever since he’d lost Gordon. Somehow, it helped him deal.
The first time he’d come, he’d spent the whole damn time drunk. The second time was easier, and he enjoyed the cabin, nature, fishing. All things he could do at home, yeah, but it was different in the mountains. Plus, he loved Asheville.
Then he’d decided he couldn’t cancel, that he was just going to tell Dylan he had to go away for a few days and leave it at that. Dylan didn’t need Clay. He could have stayed home, taken a car service to work, and maybe enjoyed some peace and quiet, or spent time sewing and designing until Clay got back.
But the second he’d stood by that brick building and watched him—that sweet and sexy smile that always curled his lips, his jawline that was somehow soft yet also strong and defined—as he’d thought about how much he enjoyed being with Dylan, the way he made Clay feel, he’d realized he didn’t want to go without him.
He wanted Dylan with him, which was likely a little strange and fucked up, considering it was the anniversary of Gordon’s death, but it was how Clay felt.
“This is a pretty drive,” Dylan said from the passenger seat, making Clay glance his way.
“It is. You’ll like Asheville too. It’s a funky little town. On Friday nights they have the drum circle downtown. People dance, play music, eat food from the food carts and stuff like that. It’s a local tradition.”
“Okay, so you know we’re doing that tonight, right?”
Clay glanced at him and winked. “Why did I have a feeling you were going to say that? Just don’t expect me to dance.”
“Oh, come on, Clay; you’re dancing.”
“No, I’m not.”
“Yes, you are.”
“No, I’m not.”
“I’ll beg if I have to.” Dylan fluttered his thick, dark lashes expertly.
“You’re good at that, Trouble.”
“Thank you very much. I’ll continue until I get my way, you know.”
Clay had no doubt about that. But he liked that about Dylan, even if it was being used to evilly try to get him to dance. “We’ll see.”
“Wow, that was easy.”
“I didn’t say yes!”
“You said, we’ll see. Come on, Clay, everyone knows we’ll see means yes, Dylan. I’d love to dance with you.”
A laugh burst from between Clay’s lips. He couldn’t have held it back if he’d wanted to. Dylan made him feel light, like he shared the load that always weighed on his heart. “I swear, sometimes it’s like you’re not real. You’ve got some sort of magic power, Trouble. It’s like you’re made of sunshine.”
He felt the air in the cab of his truck thicken, knew Dylan stiffened beside him, but couldn’t figure out why. Maybe he’d said too much? He probably had. Hesitance made him itchy, scratched at his consciousness. Suddenly, Clay wished he could take the words back, not just for Dylan, but for himself. He was getting close, much too fucking close. “Listen, I—”
“Do you really feel that way?” Dylan asked, every syllable he spoke bending with the edge of hope.
“I, um…” Clay rubbed a hand over his face. He pulled into the driveway of the same cabin he stayed in every year. It wasn’t far from town but felt as if they were cut off from civilization, like it was just them, the trees, and the lake, and they made up the whole damn world. Clay killed the engine. “I’ve never invited anyone up here with me, but I couldn’t imagine coming without you.” That had to tell him something, right?
Dylan reached over and set his hand on Clay’s thigh. “I feel the same way, and I’m glad I’m here with you too.”
They were quiet for a moment, and Clay knew another question sat on the tip of Dylan’s tongue. Finally, he set it free. “Why? Not why did you want me to come, but why do you come here every year?”
Clay dropped his head against the back of the seat. He knew this question was coming, and why shouldn’t it? He owed Dylan an answer. He owed him more when it came to Gordon. “It’s, um…the anniversary of when I lost my partner…Gordon.”