Looking for Trouble(70)

It was all a whirlwind after that.

The fire department and paramedics showed up. Clay refused to leave until he knew the damage. He insisted that Dylan go to the hospital and get checked out, promising he would go soon.

Clay didn’t show up at the hospital. He called and asked Dylan if he could have Troy pick him up. And the thing was, Dylan understood. If he were Clay, he wouldn’t be able to look at Dylan after what he’d done either.





CHAPTER THIRTY-EIGHT




Clay


His body ached as though he’d spent the day with hundred-pound weights attached to all his extremities. He’d spoken to the fire department and the police department and his insurance. It had been a hell of a day, and now he stood in his front yard, with Dakota next to him, looking at the charred remains of his home. The place that had been his sanctuary, his comfort through heartbreak and loss. The home he’s shared with Gordon and the one he’d planned to share with Dylan.

It was gone.

His chest broke open at the thought.

It was gone. How could he have lost his home?

He’d lost his home. The place he’d shared with Gordon. He needed to figure out how he would grieve that.

It was…a lot to accept. It didn’t seem real. Christ, he wished he were dreaming. That he was in bed with Dylan, could roll over and hug him, smell his citrus scent, before they got up and cleaned up the glass from the butter dish and laughed over how hungry they’d been for each other.

But that wasn’t the case. It wasn’t a dream—his home was gone. Clay didn’t know how to work through that.

Dakota whined at his feet, and he sat down in the grass beside her. She nudged him, put her nose against his face in what he knew was love and support. “I know, girl. I know.” He wiped the few stray tears that fell, scratched Dakota’s head.

He didn’t know how long he sat there, looking at the burned structure that had been his home. He kept telling himself he needed to get up, to go get Dylan so they could figure out what their next step was, but he couldn’t seem to make himself move.

Dylan’s car was still there. Clay had wondered if maybe Troy would have brought him back for it, but apparently he hadn’t, and Clay was still not moving, and the sun was going down.

It had been one of the longest days of his life.

And still, he didn’t move.



It was eight in the evening when he called Dylan. “Hey,” he said softly. “Sorry I didn’t get ahold of you sooner. I had some things to deal with, and then I came to the house. I haven’t been able to make myself leave.”

“I’m so sorry, Clay. God, I’m so sorry.”

“I know…I am too.” He still couldn’t wrap his brain around it. When he’d carried Dylan to bed the night before, he’d been euphoric…the happiest he’d ever been, and just that quickly, everything changed. Clay sighed. “Can you text me Troy’s address? I’ll come and get you, and then we’ll go to a hotel for the night.”

“Are you sure? You don’t have to.”

Clay frowned. Why would he ask that? “Yeah. Unless there’s some reason you don’t want me to.”

“No, no. Of course not. I just…well, we can talk when you come and get me.”

Clay’s heart dropped to his feet, and he felt like the same fire that ravaged his home was now burning through him. All he wanted to do was get Dylan, curl up in bed with him, and pretend the day hadn’t happened, but he could tell by the softness of Dylan’s voice that something was wrong. Well, of course something was wrong. They’d just lost their home. But he knew Dylan well enough to know it was more than that.

“Yeah…okay, Trouble. I guess we better talk.” Maybe things hadn’t been as patched up last night as Clay had thought. His gut twisted, tied itself in knots.

“Okay…I’ll text you.”

“Okay,” Clay replied, hating that they were tiptoeing around each other. “I love you,” he said, and when he didn’t get a reply, he realized Dylan had already hung up.





CHAPTER THIRTY-NINE




Dylan


He felt like he was going to vomit.

He’d never seen Clay look so bad. His clothes were dirty, and he had dark circles under his eyes. He walked as though he could hardly carry his own body weight…as if he didn’t want to.

They were quiet most of the way to the hotel. Clay asked how things had gone at the hospital and Dylan assured him he had checked out okay. Dakota whined in the cab as though she could sense the tension between them. And how could there not be? Clay’s home was gone. He’d lost the place he’d shared with the love of his life, and it was all Dylan’s fault.

How could Clay ever forgive him?

They got checked in, and Clay handed Dylan a key, telling him he was going to take Dakota out. Dylan went up to the room, not sure what to do with himself. They didn’t even have clothes. He had no idea what was lost. The truth was, they could have lost everything. Everything.

He sat on the edge of the bed just as he heard the door click open. He looked down, hands in his lap, as Clay came inside.

“I’m sorry we don’t have any of your stuff. They asked me if I wanted them to walk me through what was left, and I couldn’t make myself go inside. Maybe tomorrow…”