Page 13 of Chasing After You (Twisted Desires #3)

Dorian

He was right there, only steps away from me.

Finally.

And he wasn’t running away.

I had imagined this so many times—rehearsed it, replayed it in my head over and over again over the course of eight long years. But now that I was here, and he was in front of me, I was drowning in everything I couldn’t control. I felt paralyzed by the sight of him.

By the proximity of him.

He looked exactly as I remembered, yet nothing like it all at once.

Older, obviously. More worn in some places.

Taller and stronger. A layer of light stubble framed his jaw.

Maybe even a little tanner. But he still had those inquisitive and emotive green eyes; he still had the same dirty blonde hair.

Still… mine , in that strange, twisted way that had never gone away.

When he turned and saw me, looked me in the eyes for the first time since he’d left, my heart stuttered in my chest. His mouth parted like he wanted to say something, and I leaned in slightly, hungry—starved—for the sound of his voice.

Instead, a small, choked noise came out.

It hit me in the stomach harder than any punch ever could, knocking the air out of me.

I didn’t move. Not forward, not back. I simply watched him.

And he watched me, like I was a ghost returned from the grave.

God, I wanted to say something poetic.

But I couldn’t think of a single word.

Because his eyes were just as beautiful as I remembered, and I wanted those eyes on me—only me—for the rest of his life.

I wanted him the way an addict wants a high. The way a starving animal wants the hand that feeds it.

I wanted to kneel at his feet and worship him.

I wanted to bite him until he bled, and sob into his shirt, and make him promise not to leave again.

I wanted to break every clock in the world and live in a day where we never grew apart.

I wanted to wrap my hands around his neck and choke him for making me live without him.

I wanted to thank him for letting me find him again.

I wanted to know every damn thought he’d had in the past eight years.

I wanted to stop his heart only to reach into his chest and pump it myself.

I wanted everything , and I wanted it now.

I opened my mouth, lips parting for that first impossible word—and then I heard a voice behind him.

“Fuck.”

My eyes flicked past Josh, narrowing slightly as I took in the small figure emerging from the hallway. I knew Oliver would be here when I decided to come. Still, it grated my already buzzing nerves to have him interrupt our reunion.

My gaze drifted back to Josh, studying his aching expression.

He hadn’t moved a single step toward me.

Oliver’s voice had startled him, had brought his fear to the surface as he was reminded of the threat I posed.

I could work with that.

Fear was honest.

“Hi,” I said finally, my voice low and steady, even though my heart felt like it was slamming against my ribs in an attempt to get closer to Josh. “You look… older.”

I watched as his eyes portrayed the emotions washing over him. There was fear, of course, but also a little excitement, a lot of guilt and deep, heavy sadness, and love. Love for me.

He didn’t say anything. Just blinked, like I was a mirage that might vanish if he made a sound.

“I didn’t come to cause a scene,” I added, tone calm and measured so as not to spook him. “I just wanted to see you again. To see if you’d let me talk to you. Privately.” I shot a pointed look towards his friend.

Oliver shivered, but still stepped closer to Josh, like he could protect him from me.

I tilted my head slightly.

“I’ll leave if you want me to,” I lied.

But we all knew I wouldn’t.

Not now. Not ever.

Not unless Josh was coming with me.

Josh hesitated, seemingly struggling to find the right words to say. “You’re all grown up,” he stated.

I smiled. “I am.”

“Did… did you mean what you wrote in your letter?”

My eyes flicked down his body, catching him clenching his apron in his fists, fingers shaking. “Yes.”

His brow furrowed, a conflicted expression on his face. “But…”

I reiterated, “I would like to talk to you alone, big brother. We have a lot to catch up on.” A wave of pain washed over his face as he heard me call him that.

“No way,” Oliver piped in, stepping forward again. “There’s no goddamn way that you’re going to talk to him alone. For all we know, you just want to get him secluded so that you can attack him.”

Before I had the chance to tell him that he didn’t have any business getting between us, Josh spoke up.

“We can speak here. We can sit on opposite sides of the cafe. Oliver will sit on that side.” He pointed to the right. “And we’ll sit over there.” He pointed to a table that sat directly against the left wall. “That’s what I’m willing to do.”

Meet him halfway , I told myself.

“Fine,” I said simply, without looking at Oliver again. My eyes remained locked on Josh, hungry, desperate, afraid to lose contact. “That’s more than I thought I’d get.”

He nodded slowly and cautiously, then swallowed. The motion nearly undid me.

I could do this. I just needed to be careful with my words.

I followed his lead without hesitation as he gestured toward the corner table. My legs carried me as though they had a mind of their own, moving forward one step at a time.

He sat down first, across from the chair he’d chosen for me. His hands rested carefully on the table, as if he were keeping them visible on purpose. Like he thought if I didn’t see them, I’d think he was hiding something.

Fine. I could do that too. He let out a small exhale as I placed my hands on the table. We were so close that if I were only to stretch my fingers out a bit further, just a few inches, our fingertips would brush against one another.

His fingers twitched, like he was thinking the same thing.

He kept looking at my hands. I flexed them, slowly, on the table. The tattoos on my knuckles rippled slightly with the movement.

He continued to stare at them. Studying them.

“You still bite your nails,” I murmured.

His gaze shot to mine, startled. “You… remember that?”

“I remember everything, ” I stressed, catching myself before I got aggressive. I needed to keep him calm, not make him hunch in on himself like he often did whenever Victoria, Daniel, or anyone else raised their voice.

He looked away, over toward Oliver, who was watching us like a hawk from his seat. I saw the tension coil through Josh’s shoulders. He wanted to believe I was safe. I could tell that he didn’t want a chaperone around to talk, but he also didn’t know if he’d survive being wrong about me.

“Why now?” he asked, eyes downcast, one of his fingers tracing the lines in the table. “Why come back now?”

“Victoria finally spilled about where you’d gone and the name change. I was searching for you the entire time, but I had nothing substantial to go on.”

Josh swallowed thickly before asking softly, “Why didn’t you just show up? Why did you have to call me on all those different numbers and follow me around, making me scared? What was the point of doing that for so long?”

I tilted my head, watching him and considering my words with an abundance of caution. “I wanted to wait until I felt you were ready.”

His expression twisted, conveying his hurt and confusion. “That doesn’t make any sense, Dori…”

“You don’t need to understand,” I hummed, pleased by his usage of my childhood nickname.

“Yeah, I kinda do,” he insisted. “Did you do it all for some type of revenge? To hurt me or make me feel stupid? Or… or…” I knew what he was asking, even if he couldn’t get the words out.

“I don’t want to hurt you.” Partial lie, but he didn’t need to know that. “And what do you mean by revenge? What would I even be taking revenge for?”

He whispered exasperatedly, voice raw, “I-I killed your dad. ”

I held in a laugh. “ Josh… Josh, you saved my life. You didn’t even mean to kill him.

You wanted to call 911 after, remember? God, I’m glad that bastard is dead.

If you hadn’t killed him back then, I definitely would’ve taken him out myself.

I’d have to be legitimately brainless to try to avenge him.

He wasn’t a good man. You know that,” I soothed.

“But he was still your dad,” he murmured, voice small and pitiful.

“He was supposed to be your dad, too,” I replied briskly.

Josh deflated in his seat, the despair pouring out of him.

“You gave him the easy way out. I would’ve given him a long, drawn-out, painful death.

He would have deserved it, too, the way he abused you for so long. Beat down an already traumatized boy.”

“He didn’t—I wasn’t abused!”

I closed the gap between our fingers, interlacing our hands together. “ Angel.”

His mouth opened and closed in stunned silence. “Angel?”

“Mm.” I smiled, enjoying the light blush that colored his cheeks. “Like I said, you saved my life. Even if Daniel never ended up strangling me, you still would be my savior. Everything was so dull and pointless before you.”

“Y-you shouldn’t say stuff like that. People might get the wrong idea.”

“What do you mean?” I teased.

He tugged his hands away from mine, wringing them close to his chest. He was still blushing. He whispered, “It’s just that it… doesn’t sound very brotherly, that’s all.”

I grinned sardonically, deciding not to push that topic today. It would overwhelm him.

Changing the subject, I said, “You left without even saying goodbye.”

His face blanched, his pretty pink blush vanishing. He stuttered, “I-I-I—”

I softened my voice. “Shh, it’s okay. Victoria forced you to, didn’t she?”

His chin trembled as he answered, “Yeah.”

I nodded, my gaze gentle. “I knew you would never leave like that.”

“You—you didn’t hate me for it?”

“No,” I promised, itching to hold his hand again. I hated how broken he sounded. “Of course not. I’ve never hated you, Josh. But can you tell me what happened, hm? I got the gist of it from Victoria, but I want to hear your side.”