Page 18 of Chasing After You (Twisted Desires #3)

Josh

The next couple of days passed in a strange sort of calm, almost like I was floating through a long dream.

I felt so… whole.

It felt like I’d been walking around with a loose thread no one else had noticed until he came back and pulled it tight. For whatever reason, I thought it’d be hard adjusting to a life with Dorian back in it.

But no, it really wasn’t. Obviously, I missed him a lot over the years, and I thought about him regularly, but I didn’t think I’d been holding space for him.

I didn’t know that he would so effortlessly slot into place by my side.

I’d catch myself smiling at random times during my shifts at Wild Roast. In the middle of making a drink, I’d remember something funny he’d texted me.

Or I’d glance at the doorway and expect to see him there, leaning against the frame with that cocky little half-smile, hands in his pockets like he owned the world and had decided I was his favorite part of it.

And honestly, he was still really fucking weird. Still casually mentioning things he shouldn’t have known unless he was watching me. Still a little too intense, too observant.

But I didn’t tell anyone. Not this time.

Oliver would freak out, insist that I move back into his guest room, maybe even make the twins do something scary to drive Dori away.

But… I didn’t want him to go.

I didn’t want help, protection, or whatever.

That part of me that had always been empty, longing, aching, had apparently just needed my brother back all along.

Even if I didn’t fully understand who he was now, he was mine. My family, my past, my blanket fort builder, my first friend, my heart, my soul.

My everything.

And the way he looked at me? The way he saw me as someone worth waiting eight years for?

How could I throw that away just because he was a little—okay, a lot —odd? Oliver wouldn’t understand.

We’d already made plans to hang out again Saturday night. He wanted to show me “a spot I’d love.” I didn’t ask how he knew I’d love it. I didn’t ask how he always knew.

Maybe I didn’t want to know.

Because knowing would mean admitting that I saw the red flags. And that I was choosing to ignore them.

They weren’t really even red flags. They were more… orange? Yellow?

I was embarrassed that I kind of liked his brand of crazy.

It just felt like after a lifetime of feeling inadequate, of feeling like I was more of a burden than just a person deserving of love and kindness, that someone finally wanted me—the real me.

The me that was weak and pathetic, the me who cried himself to sleep, the me who surrounded himself with surface-level friendships desperately trying to feel like he mattered, the me who would rather hide than fight, the me who felt like the weight of the world was always only seconds away from crushing him.

Dorian didn’t want the me who I pretended to be.

We could’ve been apart for fifty years, and he’d still have known when I was putting on a front.

I felt stupid for being so terrified of him.

I’d thought I was being hunted. That some vengeful ghost from my past had clawed its way free and come to drag me back to hell.

But he wasn’t that. He wasn’t hell.

He was home.

Not the kind with walls and furniture and working plumbing, but the kind made of shared secrets and childhood nights with a flashlight under the blanket, whispering made-up stories to each other when sleep wouldn’t come.

The kind of home you don’t even realize you’ve lost until someone puts it back in your arms.

I knew I had missed him. I did. Really did. But I hadn’t known that his absence was slowly killing me.

Even now, he texted me like he hadn’t missed a day. His messages were weird—always were—but weird in a way that made me laugh or feel seen, or sometimes just shiver in that way you do when someone touches something raw in you you’d forgotten existed.

Dori ?? :

You looked lonely when you ate lunch today.

Dori ?? :

I just saw a post online.

Wanted to make sure you know that I’d still love you even if you were a worm.

Dori ?? :

Don’t forget to eat before bed—your blood sugar dips.

Dori ?? :

I saw the guy flirting with you at the register.

He looked like the kind of person who’d cry after sex.

You need someone who’d take care of you.

I hadn’t replied to every text. I didn’t want to encourage the watching, but I didn’t shut it down either.

That made me complicit, I guess. It was like my “no more stalking” rule had gone in one ear and out the other.

I probably should’ve enforced it better.

But maybe I liked that someone paid attention to all the little details I thought I had to hide to be lovable.

I told myself it was just Dorian being Dorian. He didn’t know how to be normal. He never had.

And maybe… I didn’t want him to be.

I didn’t know what our next outing would bring, but I was excited.

* * *

Saturday evening arrived.

I kept looking out my apartment window, waiting for a knock at the door or a ping on my phone. But what I got instead was the low, guttural growl of a motorcycle engine echoing up the block.

I leaned out slightly, pushing aside the sheer curtain, and yep—there he was.

Dorian was straddling a sleek black bike that looked like it belonged in some cool action movie with spies and lots of stunts.

His helmet was in his hand, his dark hair mused from it, and his leather jacket was unzipped just enough to show the tight black T-shirt underneath. I gulped.

A moment later, he texted.

Dori ??:

Your chariot awaits, angel.

My stomach twisted with something between nerves and excitement. I grabbed my keys, jacket, and phone, then jogged downstairs, pushing the door open to meet him on the sidewalk.

He smiled at the sight of me, a slow, contented curl of his lips that made me feel like I was stepping into something dangerous. “Hi.”

“Hey,” I said, eyeing the motorcycle with suspicion. “So… this is how we’re getting there?”

“Of course,” he replied, tossing me the spare helmet. “The car’s only for stalking.” He winked, too self-aware.

“Uh, I’ve never been on one,” I admitted, gripping the helmet awkwardly. “And I’m too big to be a backpack. Wouldn’t I fall off or make us tip over or something?”

“You’re not too big,” Dorian said, stepping close to adjust the strap under my chin. His fingers were gentle, and for a second, all I could do was stare at his eyes, focused on their task. “You’ll fit just fine.”

“Pretty sure your spine won’t survive me clinging to you like a terrified koala.”

“I’d consider it an honor.” He smirked. “Besides, I like having you wrapped around me.”

I flushed. “Gross. Never say that again.”

He laughed, straddling the bike once more. “Get on, Josh.”

And somehow, I did. I slid in behind him, heart hammering as I wrapped my arms around his waist. I could feel the purring vibration of the engine through his back and through my thighs and hands, and God , this was a terrible idea.

“You good?” he called over his shoulder.

“Define good. If I die, throw me an awesome funeral.”

He chuckled and revved the engine in response, and we peeled down the road before I could overthink it.

And… it was fun.

Terrifying, yes. I may have screamed once or twice—quietly, I’d like to add—but it was fun. I felt reckless and weightless and happy , like I was skipping every rule I’d ever set for myself and daring the universe to care.

The street lights flickered by us, the wind brushed against my bare forearms, and the warmth of Dorian satisfied that lonely, anxious, needy part of me.

Eventually, the roads got quieter, the buildings more sparse, and we turned onto a gravel road that led into a wooded trailhead. I could hear the crunch under the tires as we slowed, the thrum of nature gradually growing louder than the bike’s hum.

He parked near a crooked sign that read “Willow Falls Nature Reserve” and helped me out. I stumbled slightly, legs unsteady from the ride. “Okay. I get it. You’re cool. I’m still not convinced I’ll survive the drive back, though.”

“I knew you’d like it,” he said, smug as ever, leading the way up a dirt path under a canopy of trees. The air smelled like moss and damp wood. Peaceful.

The trail curved along a small stream and eventually opened into a quiet clearing where a waterfall spilled over jagged rocks into a calm, clear pool below. The water caught the last of the fading sunlight, shimmering like melted silver.

“Oh,” I breathed, staring at the sight before me. “This is…”

“Beautiful,” Dorian finished, watching me instead of the view.

I ignored the flutter in my chest. “Yeah.”

We sat down on a flat rock near the edge, our legs dangling. The air was cool, crisp, but not uncomfortable. Dorian handed me a thermos he’d packed, and I took a sip—iced coffee, strong and just the way I liked it.

“How did you—?”

He shrugged.

We sat in silence for a while, listening to the sound of the water. I leaned back on my palms, my head tipped up to the stars as they began to peek through the clouds.

“This place feels fake,” I murmured.

“It’s real,” Dorian said, voice quiet. “Do you like it?”

I glanced at him. “Yeah,” I sighed contentedly.

“I’ll always keep you happy from now on.”

That made something inside me ache. I looked away.

“I know I’m intense,” he said, softer now. “I know I scared you at the start. Thinking back, I probably should’ve just approached you normally, but at the time, I was afraid you’d take one look at me and disappear all over again.”

I didn’t answer. He wasn’t wrong.

“I need you,” he added. “I need you too much.”

I nodded slowly, staring into the trees. I needed him, too.

He brushed his shoulder against mine. “You’re not still scared of me, are you?”

A beat of silence.

“No. I don’t think so. It’s more like… you confuse me.”

Dorian tilted his head back, letting out a quiet, satisfied laugh. “I confuse you?”

I leaned the rest of the way back, lying flat on the rock with my hands hooked together on my stomach. “Yeah.”

Dorian mirrored me, lying back to gaze at the sky above us. We stayed like that for a while, in comfortable silence, just taking in the world around us.

“I would do anything for you. You know that, right?” Dorian asked.

“You don’t have to do anything for me, Dori. Just being here is enough. You already brought us back together. There’s nothing more for you to do,” I quietly replied.

“Hm.”

I turned my head towards him, taking in his calm, serene expression. “I mean it, Dorian. You—I’m sorry I didn’t try to find you. I feel like a failure of an older brother.”

Dorian scoffed. “I both love and hate that word.”

“What word?”

“Brother.”

“Why do you hate it?”

Dorian turned his head as well, his right cheek lying against the cool surface of the rock, his striking eyes capturing me in their gaze. He murmured, “I wonder why?”

My brows furrowed. “I don’t understand,” I whispered, still entranced by those pools of blue sucking me in.

His small smile felt sad, but I wasn’t sure why. “I know.”

We didn’t speak for a while after that. Not because it was awkward, but because something about that moment begged for silence. The kind of quiet that didn’t need to be filled. It felt sacred, important. Heavy with things unsaid.

Eventually, I sat up again, shaking off the weight of the conversation like water off my shoulders. The stars were out in full now, glittering above the tree canopy like they’d been spilled from a broken jar. Dorian followed my lead, propping himself up on one arm, his eyes still fixed on me.

“You’re quiet tonight,” he said softly.

“Just thinking.”

He tilted his head. “About?”

I sighed, shrugging. “Stuff.”

Dorian gave me a look that said be serious.

So I was.

“Just about how nice it is to just exist with you,” I muttered. “There’s no point in acting with you. I feel like you know me better than I do.”

He didn’t interrupt. Just watched me.

I rubbed the back of my neck. “It’s like—I don’t know—if I act the way I really feel, people don’t… stick around. So I’m always reliable, friendly, outgoing, strong.”

“But that’s not who you are,” Dorian said simply.

“Sometimes it is,” I said quickly, then hesitated. “But not all the time.”

I looked down at my hands. “I was always so scared of being alone, you know? And I thought I was doing fine. But then you came, and now I feel so… not alone… and I realized that maybe I was trying to fill your place with those people.”

There. I said it. The ugliest part.

Dorian didn’t look shocked. Or uncomfortable. He looked… calm. The kind of calm people only get when they’re hearing something they’ve always known.

“I’ve always seen that in you,” he said. “Even when we were kids.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah,” he murmured with a half-smile.

I laughed under my breath, a little embarrassed. “So do I give off weird, needy vibes to you?”

He smiled fondly. “You can be as needy as you want to be with me. I love that side of you. It feels like something just for me.”

My throat tightened. “Stop saying stuff like that.”

He leaned in slightly, like he didn’t want me to miss a word. “I won’t. I won’t stop. Ever. I’ve already missed out on eight years, Josh.”

I blinked quickly, fighting something I didn’t want him to see in my eyes. “It’s just… that stuff confuses me. It sounds… not like something you’d say to your brother.”

“I didn’t realize.”

I turned away. “Just be careful saying that kind of thing to me once you start dating.”

He huffed out a laugh before rising to his feet and glancing down at me. “Come on, let’s get you home.”

I rubbed at the weird feeling in my chest.