Looking for Trouble(7)

She sighed. “It’s been three years. You know it’s okay to try and be happy again, don’t you? Gordon would want you to be happy…to move on and date again, and before you say it, I’m not talking about driving into Raleigh to have sex. I’m talking about truly dating. He’d hate you being alone, and I do too.”

“Renée, I—”

“I’m serious, Clay. You spent more than twenty years in denial. Then you were true to yourself but had your happiness ripped away from you entirely too soon. It sucks, and I hate it. It’s not fair. I’d do anything to change it, but we can’t. And yes, I know you’re honest about who you are now, but you’re still not living. You can. You should. You deserve happiness.”

He closed his eyes, his chest feeling too tight. He didn’t have the words to tell Renée that yes, he missed Gordon, but in that moment, it wasn’t only the man who’d taught him it was okay to love another man that filled his mind. That this was about Mike, who had likely been his first crush, even if he hadn’t known it at the time. Who had definitely been the most important person in his life for years, and the fact that he was dead. That they hadn’t spoken since he was eighteen years old, when he’d lost almost everything in one swoop. That there was a letter out there for him, but that he was too angry, too sad, to want to read it. And that he couldn’t help but be a little curious about the boy who’d tricked him to deliver it.





CHAPTER FIVE




Dylan


Dylan pulled up in front of the small mechanic shop in Bailey Springs, still unsure if he was doing the right thing. It had taken him a couple of days of sulking, something he’d always been told he was good at, but then he jumped in his old car and drove the last half hour to his destination.

He was doing this. He couldn’t control if Clayton read it or not, but Dylan damn sure planned to fulfill his part by delivering his dad’s letter.

But of course…of course his car had to start screwing up, because why wouldn’t it? The universe had always fucking hated him. At least it had waited until he pulled into town.

“Hey there.” A guy with dark hair tossed a grease rag over his shoulder and approached Dylan when he got out of the vehicle. “She’s a beauty.”

“Thanks.” Dylan beamed. Cars weren’t really his thing, but this one had been his dad’s baby. He knew his father loved hearing someone praise it. “I’m pretty sure the smoke coming out of the engine isn’t a good sign, though. I know jack shit about cars.” Fuck. He shouldn’t have admitted that. Now this guy knew he could take advantage of him.

“Never admit when you don’t know much about cars.” The man winked and headed for the hood. “Good thing I’m honest. Let’s look at her.”

He opened the hood and began looking around.

In the silence that followed, that comment sent Dylan’s brain back to Clayton and what had almost happened the other night. Thinking about Clayton made his chest feel too tight again as guilt made his blood run thick. Jesus, the look on Clayton’s face when he realized who Dylan was. The betrayal there that Dylan should have known he would see regardless, since his dad had told him he’d hurt Clayton, but it had also been laced with a pain that nearly stole Dylan’s breath.

“You traveling through?” the mechanic asked, still looking under the hood.

The question made his pulse jump. Did this man know Clayton? He was younger than his father, so Dylan didn’t think he would have known his dad. The guy would have been years behind when his dad left. Dylan knew how small towns like this worked, though. Were there stories about his dad? Had he heard them? Did anyone know he had passed? Clayton had looked stunned by the news.

“Um…kind of?” he replied. “I drove out from Oregon. I don’t know exactly how long I might be here, even without considering the car trouble.” All that depended on Sad Eyes. He decided to play it safe for now and not mention his father’s best friend from childhood, or even why he was here. He didn’t know why, but he chose to keep his dad to himself.

The mechanic ran a hand through his hair. “I’m not gonna lie—she’s old, and I’m a little worried, but I’ll get it figured out. Are you staying with a friend, or do you have a room or anything?”

No, no, he didn’t. None of the above. “I’m hoping there’s a motel close by?” He hadn’t even looked into it. Once he’d been ready to go, he just jumped in his car and went. He was good at that—jumping without thinking and then scrambling later.

“Yeah, there’s one not too far down Main Street. I have a few things to do before I can really try to figure out what’s going on here.”

The twist in Dylan’s gut told him bad news was likely coming. What would he do if he couldn’t get his dad’s car back to Portland? “I can get my stuff and walk to the motel. You can call me later when you figure out what’s wrong with it.”

“I can give you a ride if you want,” he offered. “I have to go pick up some parts.”

Dylan smiled. It was strange being here, in the town his father had grown up in. The people were nice, that was for sure. He was surprised that he felt strangely at ease, comfortable in this foreign town. But the pleasant feeling was twisted up in the truth of why he’d come—his father’s passing and whatever had happened between his dad and Clayton. Whatever had happened to make his father leave town at eighteen and never go back.