Page 98 of Chasing After You
I slid into the passenger seat of Dorian’s car, still chewing over the awkwardness of breakfast. Dorian didn’t say anything for a few miles, just drummed his fingers on the wheel and kept his eyes fixed on the road ahead.
I figured we were headed home. That was the plan. Or, well,had been.
But then we passed the exit that would’ve taken us back to the interstate, and my brows furrowed.
“Uh… where are we going?”
Dorian didn’t look at me. “The airport.”
“Theairport?” I repeated. “What for? I thought we were going home.”
He finally glanced over, a small smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth. “Change of plans.”
My heart kicked up a little. “Are you kidnapping me?”
“If I were kidnapping you, I’d have you naked and hog-tied,” he deadpanned, tapping the screen where my upbeat road trip mix was still playing softly.
“Hot,” I breathed. Catching myself, I shook my head and asked, “But really, where are we flying to?”
“Tallahassee.”
The word landed heavily. My breath caught. “You’re joking.”
“Nope.”
“Youwantto go back there?”
His eyes softened for a fraction of a second. “I think it’s time you saw the house again.”
I swallowed the lump in my throat. “Why? Why now? And why didn’t you tell me?”
“There’s something there for you,” he said simply, like that explained everything. “A surprise.”
“I—” I struggled for words. “Dorian, I haven’t been back there since… you know. I don’t… I don’t think I want to see it again.”
“I know,” he said quietly. “I’m sorry for not saying anything about it earlier, I just knew you’d try to get out of going. Can you trust me on this, Josh? Please?”
I turned to stare out the window, heart racing, stomach fluttering like a warning bell and butterflies all tangled into one. The idea of stepping foot back into that house was like tearing open an old wound.
I leaned back in my seat, exhaling slowly. “Okay,” I said. “I trust you.”
He reached over and laced his fingers through mine on the center console. “I’ll take care of everything.”
“I know,” I whispered, gripping his hand tightly.
I didn’t know what the surprise was. But I knew that I wanted to face whatever was comingtogether.
* * *
The airport made me feel like I’d stepped into a shiny, loud parallel universe. People in sleek luggage ads stared down at me with perfect teeth and matching designer suitcases while travelers chatted or frantically rushed to catch their plane. I clutched my backpack tighter, still wearing my hoodie and scuffed sneakers.
Dorian, of course, looked like a celebrity. Tailored coat, dark sunglasses, and an air of quiet menace that made even the most harried TSA agents glance once and then decide not to look again.
He handed over our IDs, boarding passes already pulled up on his phone, and steered me through security like he’d done this a thousand times.
First class check-in. Priority lane. Lounge access.
I felt like a fraud.
