Page 81 of On the Run
“Toby,” Mason began. “If I made you feel like—”
“Hey, Mase? Baby?” Fenn appeared in the doorway. “Oh, hey, Toby. Nice to meet you officially. Not sure I said that earlier, what with you being, ah… busy.”
“Yep.” I smiled sadly. “Same here.”
He shifted his attention back to Mason, and his eyes—blue, like Beale’s, though not nearly as pretty—softened. He took one of Mason’s hands in his and stroked his other hand over Mason’s cheekbone. What would it be like to have someone look at you like that? I was pretty sure I wouldn’t get to know.
“I know you’re tired, love, but everyone got us housewarming gifts—like, a hundred of them—and Dale wants us to open his.” He shrugged, all helpless amusement.
“Okay, but I was in the middle of—” Mason looked uncertainly from me to Fenn.
“Pfft. Go on!” I made a shooing motion with my hands. “Open those gifts. I’ve seen what Dale got you, and you’re gonna love it.” He totally wouldnotlove it.
“You sure?” Mason lifted an eyebrow. “We’ll finish this later?”
“You know where to find me.” Back in the city, where I belonged.
Still, he hesitated. “I’m sorry if it seemed like—”
“Like you were being protective of Beale?” I smiled. “Don’t be silly. I’m really glad he has people looking out for him. He deserves that.”
“Yeah. Okay.” Mason slid his hand into Fenn’s. “Thanks, Toby.”
“Always, darling.”
As soon as he left, I zipped up my suitcase and made a phone call.
* * *
“Nope,I still don’t get it,” Littlejohn said. “Why’re you leaving?”
I sighed.
The windshield wipers on the freaking Mercedes SUV LJ had been hiding in his detached garage swiped side to side, and I fervently hoped this storm was somehow passing around Whispering Key. I’d seen Beale laughing with Fenn as I snuck away from the party, and I wanted to remember him that way—happy and carefree. I didn’t want the party ruined for him, either by my drama or the pesky raindrops.
“I just told you why. I’m not who I’ve been pretending to be. I’m Mason’s friend Toby, not Beale’s soul mate, and I have a whole shitstorm with Jayd to deal with back in New York.”
“That’s nonsense. Ya might not be Trey, but that’s just a nickname—I knew it wasn’t your real name from the first minute, but I figured I’m a man whose mama named him Littlejohn, so I ain’t about to judge someone who chooses something better for himself.”
I huffed out a short laugh.
“You showed us who you were every day you were here, Toby,” he insisted stubbornly. “An’ you might not have started out as Beale’s soul mate, but you ended up that way.”
“No. That’s not…”
“And who cares if you got your picture taken with Jayd? Who cares if you screwed your way through every woodwind in the orchestra? We’re real free love on Whispering Key.” He gave me a solemn look. “Just ask Lorenna McKetcham.”
I blinked. “I’d… truly rather not.”
“Alls I’m sayin’ is, the guy I got to know was as real as they come. So maybe Treyiswho you really are, and Toby is the lie.”
I snorted. “I almost wish my mother and I still spoke, just so I could explain to her that I’m really Trey and not Tobias.” Then I sighed. “I wish it worked that way, Littlejohn, I really do. I, uh…” Oh, what was the harm in admitting it at this point? “I really liked it here. You’ve been a good friend to me. From the very first Pizza Bite.”
“Well, back atcha, Toby. An’ I’m gonna think of you…” He sniffled. “Every time I make SpaghettiO Surprise.”
It was probably a sign of fatigue and emotional overwhelm that I was weirdly moved by this.
“Well, you have my number,” I reminded him. “If you need someone to watch game shows with, you can call me anytime.”
