Page 13 of Needed You

Garrett should have just punched me in the gut. Why is he telling me this? My stomach rolls at the thought of Dare hurting and the fact that I was the reason he couldn’t get through Nate’s death in a healthy way. “I’m not sure what you want, Garrett, but Saturday night was the first time I saw him since I left. Six years ago. And he seemed to be doing just fine when I ran into him.” Visions of Dare and the guy he was with flash through my head. I frown again. “Also,” I say, my voice softening, “he’s definitely not a kid anymore. I’m not sure what you want from me. I was never his babysitter, and I’m not going to start now. I don’t know him at all anymore.” There’s a reason for that, I want to add. But I keep it to myself.

Garrett seems to sense my emotion and holds his hands up in front of him. “Okay, okay. I was just going ask that if you see him around or you’re out at the Exchange and you notice he’s fucked up, can you either let me know or help him out? I’m worried about him, and I can only do so much. When I’m working, I can’t keep an eye on him myself. I’ve asked the other guys, but their relationship with him was different. You know how it was with us in the Wolf Pack, and Dare’s kinda always unofficially been a part of it.”

I shrug and twist my face, guilt rising up in my chest again. “Okay, yeah, sure” is all I can really say. And anyway, it’s the least I can do, isn’t it? Keeping an eye on Dare. Hell, I’ll sit with him every night if it’ll make up for what I did, disappearing on him when he apparently needed me more than I knew. But I’m not going to share that with Garrett.

“Thank you. I’m sorry if this was uncomfortable. I’m just worried about him, you know?”

I nod, and he thanks me and turns to leave the store. He fires up his bike and waves as he takes off, the engine’s thrum fading away into the distance. I stand behind the desk for a long time, trying to figure out what that was all about and why Garrett would try to pull me into whatever mess Dare has made.

As I move on with the rest of my day, Garrett’s words play on repeat in my head.

When you left, I think he fell apart even more.

What am I supposed to do with that information? I can’t help the nagging feeling that it’s my fault Dare fell apart. I should have been more available to him.

Chapter 8

Darian

“Ugh!” I let out a sigh and drop my forehead to my desk. I’ve been working late into the night most of the week, trying to finalize these initial sketch ideas for the Miller project.

It’s now Thursday, and I just want to be done with this and send it over. But my mind isn’t letting me focus. It keeps going back to Saturday night, to that look on Lev’s face when he realized who I was—it was like . . . shock and a sliver of desire. Or maybe I’m making shit up. All I know is that he’s still hot as fuck and he’s giving me designer’s block. I’m not sure that’s even a thing, but I’ve got it. I hate that I can’t just lose myself in the process like I usually do. The client wants a very specific design and for the colors to integrate into one another, and I just can’t seem to get it to look like something I find acceptable to hand in to them. I take pride in my work, and I won’t just give them something subpar to call the project done. But this is getting ridiculous with the number of hours I’ve spent just sitting here, unable to make anything work.

My stomach growls, and I look at the clock, unsurprised but also irritated to see it’s much later than dinnertime. I slam my hand on the desk and push my chair back, brushing my hair from my forehead. I reach for my phone and send a quick text to Ryan.

Me: Did you eat?

He responds almost immediately.

Ryan: Not yet. What’s up?

Me: I’m stuck on this project and need a change of scenery. Meet me at the diner?

Ryan: Sure, give me 10 and I’ll head out.

Ryan is seriously the best best friend. He’s the first person I came out to as bisexual, and he didn’t even bat an eye. Honestly, I really didn’t really have to come out to him in the formal sense. He just noticed that when we would go to parties, I would disappear with people, sometimes a girl and sometimes a guy. One night he asked, and I told him. Sure, he gives me a hard time and jokes about it, but I think that’s because he’s so incredibly straight that the thought of any dick other than his own freaks him out.

He’s also just easy to be around and kinda accepts me for exactly who I am now. I feel like when we lost Nate, life became two-dimensional, divided cleanly into “before Nate” and “after Nate.” Ryan only knows this version of me. I like that, because there is no “before Nate” with us, and it’s definitely better that way, since I’m a different person than I was before. His dad is in real estate, and his family moved here from a small town about forty minutes away to help Ryan’s grandfather grow their client base to keep the business afloat. I think they’ve been more successful here, but Ryan’s dad wants him to take over the family business when he’s ready, and Ryan wants nothing to do with it. I’m not really sure how that’s all going to go down.

Because he wasn’t around “before Nate,” Ryan has no problem letting me talk about Nate and my parents whenever I need to, and he never pushes me for more. There were many nights that I crashed at his house, not wanting to be alone or after getting messed up, although that’s happened less in the last year since he’s now in a serious relationship with Katie, which takes up a lot of his time. But that’s how it goes. I like Katie, though, and the two of them are a perfect match. I assume they’ll get married eventually.

I’d love to find something like that.

A few minutes later, the smell of fried food and garlic attacks my nose as I open the door to the diner and walk into the lobby area. Ryan’s already there, standing in the corner and looking at his phone, so I walk over.

“Hey,” I greet.

He pockets his phone and gives my shoulder a shove. “What’s up, asshole?”

I step back into place. “Did you give your name?”

“Yeah. She said it would only be like five minutes.”

Just as Ryan says that, the hostess calls his last name, and we turn to follow her through the restaurant to a booth in the back room. I prefer this, being tucked in a corner and not in the middle of the restaurant, and I wonder if Ryan knew that and asked for it.

We get ourselves settled and look over the menu as a server comes by and takes our drink orders. Once she’s gone, we both go back to perusing the menu.

“So, what’s Katie doing tonight?” I ask. “I’m actually surprised that you’re free to come out alone.”