Page 100 of Chasing After You
He just reached over and laced his fingers with mine.
“Is there anyone here? Staff? Or… or Victoria…?”
“No,” Dorian said quietly. “Victoria’s in her rehab, remember? She can’t leave there without my permission. As forstaff, no. I have the old landscaping team come out once every two weeks, but that’s it.”
I looked over at him. He wasn’t watching the estate—he was watchingme, like I was the only thing worth seeing.
“What if I panic when we go in?” I asked.
“I’ll take care of you,” he said simply. “I’ll be right next to you the entire time. You don’t have to be strong every second. Not with me. I promise, angel.”
My chest pulled tight, and I nodded meekly before looking back out the window.
The car stopped as we pulled up to the front entrance. Dorian stepped out first and came around to open my door. He didn’t offer a hand like I was fragile, but he stood close enough that I could feel his presence in every breath. I stepped out slowly, looking up at the looming facade of the house.
“It still smells the same,” I whispered. “Like wood polish and money.”
He smirked faintly. “You can smell that from out here?”
I huffed a laugh, bitter and hollow, but it helped. “Yeah.”
“Come on,” he said, wrapping an arm around my waist as we walked to the door, his bag slung over his shoulder.
“Do I need my bag, too?”
“Nope.”
“Okay… well, when do I get to know what my surprise is?”
He leaned in, voice low in my ear. “Soon. Let’s take a look around first.”
I kept walking, every step bringing me closer to getting inside my old prison. I almost thought I wouldn’t be able to do it—to go inside.
But I did.
Because he was beside me.
Because I knew he could shoulder the weight of the past for me without breaking under its crushing pressure.
Because I trusted him.
And that made all the difference.
We passed old portraits, and tall mirrors I remembered staring into as a kid, hoping to see someone stronger looking back. But all I saw then was someone scared. Someone who didn’t belong. I still felt like that sometimes. And even though I’d grown, gotten taller, stronger, even though I was bigger than a lot of the guys I met, I still felt so small.
So… insignificant.
Recently, that feeling had been fading to the background, quieted by Dorian and his compliments, his thoughtful actions, everything.
His hand rested lightly on the small of my back as we approached the old guest wing. My room used to be at the end of the hall, tucked away like an afterthought. A place to store the extra kid. When Dorian opened the door for me, I braced myself for the memories to slam into me, for me to recognize the blanket I loved or my old wardrobe.
But it was gone.
All of it.
The room was pristine—pale green walls, a sleek desk by the window, and a daybed with decorative pillows that didn’t look like anyone had ever touched them. It was an actual guest room now.
I stepped inside, slowly.
