18. Alex

CHAPTER 18

ALEX

Ford had bought Boston a farm.

It was the most ridiculous and most on-brand thing he’d ever done, and being at the farm alone while all my friends were there and so grossly in love made me want to crawl out of my skin. They’d all given me such a hard time about isolating myself, but they had no idea how insufferable they’d become. Kale’s controlling asshole streak had been amped up to eleven from the first day he found out Carter and I were involved with each other, and it hadn’t calmed down since. The relationship between Kale and Ford had become contentious at best, with Boston, who was normally immensely level-headed, even being worn down about his brother’s antics.

Being stuck upstate with Carter and his husband in the mix didn’t help matters, but I could only think about one thing at a time. Dylan’s rebuke the last night we’d been together echoed sharply around my mind and I just needed a minute, needed a break, to catch my breath in silence, but there was no escape from my friends—or their happiness.

Kale had been the last to arrive, his presence ratcheting up everyone’s nerves more than Dalton Fox’s existence ever had. Boston and Ford deliberately poked at him, and by the time Kale raised his voice and shouted at all of us, I was ready to get on my bike and go back to the city.

“I don’t care who you fuck!” Kale yelled, at none of us in particular. “I care that you lied to me about it. That you didn’t trust me enough to tell me the truth!”

“Maybe you guys should sit down and have a chat,” Tate suggested, grabbing Christian and hauling him toward the back door. The two of them went onto the wraparound porch, leaving the five of us alone, staring at Kale like his confession was an actual thing that existed in the space between us.

“I don’t think this involves me,” Dalton said, giving Carter a wary look.

“You’re right.”

Dalton nodded and took his leave, joining Christian and Tate on the porch. Our group was once again reduced further and I’d never been more jealous of anyone in my life.

“Not everyone owes you their truth, Kale.” I stood up and smoothed my hands down the front of my jeans, thinking about just how many truths I hadn’t shared with my friends and why. “You can’t fix everyone or everything.”

“I don’t want to,” he countered.

“Then why can’t you just let people live?” I asked.

“I care,” he choked out, turning his attention toward the door separating him from his boyfriend. “I care too much.”

“You can’t control it,” Ford said. “ I couldn’t control it.”

Ford was obviously talking about the development of his relationship with Boston, and Kale’s immediate reaction was to open his mouth to argue, but he snapped it closed before any words managed to come out.

“It’s not all about you,” Carter said gently, the softness of his words making my heart twist in the middle of my chest.

No wonder your ex married someone else.

“You’re not the main character in everyone else’s story,” Brooks said.

I took a step backward, and another, and another.

We were a group of four, but I was on the outskirts and their issues with Kale were not mine. I dealt with him when he’d shown up at my door, red-faced and furious over the idea I’d played with Carter hard enough to leave marks. I didn’t buy into his rage or his petty behavior, and I’d long ago made peace with his controlling nature. It wasn’t something I tolerated in my life, and I wasn’t going to defend him or fight him now.

I slipped out onto the porch, letting the boyfriends who’d assembled there know my friends were still alive and in one piece. Sliding down the wall, I bent my legs at the knee and stared off toward the rolling fields that stretched for acres beyond the back of the house.

It pained me to admit, but I missed Dylan.

And being surrounded by my friends, all so clearly and fully in love, it shifted my own feelings for Dylan into a new perspective. One I hadn’t been so willing to acknowledge back home. The developing relationship between him and me had been doomed from the start, built on an uneven foundation. As long as Dylan was struggling for money, fighting to hold on to the thing that meant the most to him, he’d never be able to fully let me into his life. Even if he understood the expectations I had, even if he wanted to meet them, there was always going to be something that took priority over me.

Maybe it was selfish or unhealthy for me, but I didn’t want to come second to anything or anyone. I didn’t think for one second that any of my friends weren’t the first priority of their partners, or vice versa. I’d seen it most recently with Brooks and Tate who had basically entered each other’s orbit and never left. The same with Boston and Ford, Kale and Christian, even Carter…Beamer and Dalton Fox.

I was jealous of them. Envious of the way love had come so easy to them while I’d spent weeks trying to claw and scratch it out for myself. I truly believed Dylan wanted to be with me, but I also didn’t know if want was enough.

I’d never know if I didn’t try.

I’d just pulled my phone out of my pocket to call him when there was a commotion from inside the house. Dalton was through the door before I could even get to my feet, but I was quick to push around him. Inside, the two of us found my best friends tangled together, not in a fight, but a hug. I brushed past Dalton and flung myself around the mess of limbs and heads, eyes watering when Brooks’ fingers dug into my back and pulled me close.

With my eyes closed and my friends there, it was like it had been before. Back when we’d been inseparable and unstoppable, before our loyalties and allegiances had been tested. Kale, from the middle of the bunch, muttered an apology before we all broke apart like at the same time we’d remembered we weren’t alone.

Ford sniffled, and Beamer rubbed the bottom of his right eye. For the first time in what felt like forever, I almost felt at peace. The only thing that would have made it better, made it right, was if Dylan was waiting on the porch for me. If he was with the boyfriends of my best friends…if we were all one group, together and unbreakable.

Even after we all stepped back further, Boston going to Ford, Christian coming for Kale, and Dalton practically running to Beamer, I didn’t feel the same separate aloofness that had been wrapped around me for months. The memory of Dylan, even sharp around the edges, lived in my chest and my mind, and if I wanted to make things right with him—which I did—I would. When I got home from the farm, I’d call him. We would talk like two civilized adults, because if Kale could do it, so could we, and then we would try again. I would forgive him for his cruelty and hopefully he would forgive me for being me.

“We have to go.” Brooks’ voice was low and urgent in my ear, his fingers curled around my wrist. I glanced at him sideways, his stare shifting from me to Kale. “We need your plane.”

“What’s wrong?” I asked, staring down at the firm way he held me.

“Dylan’s in the hospital.”

“What?”

Brooks’ fingers tightened around my wrist.

“You heard him,” Tate spat, all his unspoken accusations following in the heat of his glare. “He was dumped outside the ER, nearly unconscious.”

Brooks reached for Tate with his other hand, and Tate moved to him like they were magnets.

“That’s all I know,” Tate muttered, dropping his face into the crook of Brooks’ neck. “That’s all they’ll tell me until I’m there.”

“Who’s Dylan?” Kale asked.

Ford sighed heavily. “Don’t start now.”

“It was an honest question.”

“Can we please just use the plane?” Brooks asked, interrupting. “It will get us there faster.”

“Sure, yes.” Kale pulled his phone out of his pocket and frowned at his screen, fingers flying. “You’re good.”

“You have some explaining to do,” Tate said to me, yanking Brooks toward the door with so much force it dislodged Brooks’ fingers from around my wrist.

“And you say I’m bad,” Kale said under his breath.

“Dylan is…” I trailed off, not sure how to answer the question because I wasn’t sure who Dylan was to me anymore beyond… “He’s someone important.”

Tate scoffed, and Brooks and I followed him out of the house.

“Please don’t ask me,” I said to them both once we settled in the car.

They didn’t say anything to me, didn’t ask me, didn’t even acknowledge my presence. Not for the drive to the airfield and not for the flight back to the city. I was an interloper between them, not anyone to Dylan in their eyes besides the man who’d let all three of them down. Brooks had asked me to get Dylan on track and Tate had expected Brooks to pick a man who could live up to the job. Instead, they’d gotten me, and whatever had happened left Dylan unconscious in the hospital.

Was I wrong for reacting to Dylan’s words the way I had?

On the short flight to the city, I questioned every decision I’d made when it came to Dylan. From paying him for sex the first time, the second time, to thinking that I could take someone who didn’t know better and hold him to a standard he didn’t understand. All the missteps had been mine—not his—and if I had a chance to do it over, I would have handled everything differently.

I’d given Dylan enough rope to hang himself when that was the last thing he needed. Brooks had told me as much the day he showed up at my house. Dylan had needed structure and control, and I’d been too nervous, too shaken to give that to him. Too worried about scaring him off to be honest with him—and myself—about what I needed.

Tate continued to ignore me after we arrived at the hospital, rushing into Dylan’s room before Brooks and I could even try to get in the door.

“One at a time,” the nurse had warned. “He’s awake, but needs his rest.”

Leaning against the wall outside Dylan’s hospital room, I scrubbed a hand down my face, well aware I couldn’t avoid the impending line of questioning forever.

“Do you want to tell me what happened between the two of you now or wait until Tate is done in there?” Brooks finally asked me.

The answer was a resounding no, but I owed him—and Tate—the truth.

But still, even after everything, I didn’t know if I could bring myself to tell either of them the whole truth. Just like we’d talked about with Kale less than two hours earlier, some truths were meant to stay private. There was a lot about Dylan’s situation that wasn’t mine to share with Brooks, and enough about my own that I didn’t have the words for.

At the end of the day, the trust between Dylan and I had been damaged.

Consent had been revoked.

Vocally.

Repeatedly.

And emphatically.

The door to Dylan’s hospital room swung open and Tate came for me, guns blazing, just like I knew he would.

“You promised he would be okay,” he whisper-yelled, inches away from stabbing his finger into my chest.

“I tried.”

“You tried,” he mocked.

Brooks attempted to talk Tate down from his anger, but there was no calming him. If I was the best place for him to drop his confusion and his hurt, carrying that for Tate was the least I could do. All things considered.

“Did not.”

“What did you do wrong?” Tate asked. “Why did Dylan change his mind about being with you?”

“That’s not for me to answer, and frankly, even if I had the answer—it’s not your business.”

“He’s my best friend!”

“You sound like Kale,” Brooks interjected, his tone soft, but the accusation biting. It was enough to zap all the wind out of Tate’s sails, and he turned away from me, toward Brooks.

“I don’t know him well, but I know that was an insult.”

“You cannot control the lives of the people around you,” Brooks clarified. “If you try, you will only push them away.”

Tate’s anger bordered on turning physical, and I recognized the helpless feelings inside of myself too.

“I care about your friend,” I said gently, because it was the simplest truth. “I wish I could have helped him more.”

“You helped,” Tate grumbled a concession that was miserable enough to break my heart.

Had I helped or had I only delayed the inevitable?

“Not enough, obviously.”

Tate combed a shaky hand through his hair, throwing himself against Brooks’ chest and I again found myself the lone man out.

“He’s okay. “ Tate shared, relief loud and clear. “He was drugged and left unconscious on the curb outside the emergency room. He said I could tell you this, by the way. I’m not?—”

“I know you’re not breaking his trust.”

“He’s even more worried now about paying his half of the rent.”

That was just like Dylan, ignoring the real problem to instead focus on something absolutely irrelevant. His rent was a non-issue as far as I was concerned now, whether Dylan liked it or not.

Brooks whispered something to Tate, pushing him back enough to wipe Tate’s tears.

“I didn’t want to assume, but I figured you would loan me the money to cover it until he’s back on his feet,” Tate muttered.

“I won’t loan it to you, Tate. I’ll give it to you.”

“I hate that,” he said.

“ I’ll give it to you,” I offered.

Tate’s jaw clicked.

“Fine.” He accepted my money far easier than Brooks’, which I loved. “Dylan said they want to keep him until tomorrow for observation. He doesn’t want me to stay all day. He said he’ll call me when he’s ready to go home.”

“Do you believe him?” Brooks asked

“This time.”

“Let’s get you home then,” Brooks said. “Get you cleaned up and get some food in you and we’ll wait for the call.”

My feet grew roots, sticking me to my place in the floor as the two of them readied themselves to leave.

“Thank you for trying,” Tate said softly, nothing like Kale. “I know it’s not your fault.”

“I’ll try again if he wants me to,” I said.

I hoped he wanted me to. I needed him to want me to.

I wanted to make this right, not just for Tate, for Brooks, or for Dylan, but also for myself.