Page 37 of Chasing After You (Twisted Desires #3)

Josh

The scent of cheap coffee and bacon grease clung to the air like a breakfast-flavored smog as I sat in a creaky vinyl booth across from Paul and Dorian.

The small restaurant on the first floor of the hotel wasn’t much to look at—yellowed linoleum floors, sun-faded posters of motorcycles and deer heads—but the food was hot, and Paul was paying.

Dorian and Paul had been sizing each other up ever since sitting down.

Paul shoveled hash browns onto his fork, eyes cutting across the table toward Dorian. “You treating him right?” he asked.

I blinked, but Dorian didn’t miss a beat.

“Yes,” he said calmly, his tone flat. “Better than anyone else ever has or ever would.”

Paul stared at him for a moment longer, then nodded once, like he’d received an acceptable answer but wasn’t letting his guard down just yet. “Good. You break his heart, I break your jaw. Fair?”

“Fair,” Dorian said with a faint, humorless smile. The look in his eyes was that of a restrained attack dog. Like he knew he would win in a fight, and even craved the fight, but was being held back by his owner’s leash.

“Paul,” I muttered, flushing. “Come on…”

He leaned back, shrugging one broad shoulder. “Just covering the basics, kid. You know I worry about you. I can’t help it that your new man looks like a criminal.”

Dorian’s left eye twitched. “Like you don’t,” he muttered under his breath, taking a sip of the coffee.

Paul had been more of a father to me than anyone else ever had, and part of me still wanted his approval. But Dorian wasn’t someone I needed protecting from—at least, well… I didn’t want to be protected from him…

After breakfast, we said our goodbyes in the gravel parking lot. Paul hugged me tight, whispered something about staying in touch, and clapped Dorian on the shoulder before heading off to rejoin the rest of the club.

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.”

“The airport ?” 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.”

“You want to 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 coming together .

* * *

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.

“Dorian,” I hissed as we walked toward the gate, “this is too much. Can’t we just sit in the main cabin?”

He didn’t slow. “Nope.”

I tugged on his sleeve. “I’m serious.”

He finally turned to me, expression soft yet stern. “You belong next to me. That means you belong in first class. Don’t argue with me about that.”

I made a face but didn’t press further. Arguing wouldn’t change his mind—it would only make him double down.

And I kind of wanted to work towards that reward he mentioned the night before…

Once we boarded, I understood why he insisted, because goddamn.

The seat wasn’t just a seat. It was a damn fancy-person pod .

I had more legroom than I’d ever seen in my life, a soft, full-sized blanket, and a little dish of nuts placed in front of a screen that had like a million movies and TV shows to choose from.

Dorian sat beside me, already reclined, long legs stretched out, a glass of something amber in hand. His fingers brushed my knee. “Relax, angel.”

“I can’t. This is awesome, but I feel like I’m going to be told that I’m in the wrong seat at any moment.”

He snorted. “Don’t worry, if they do that, I’ll get them fired,” he said nonchalantly, making me gasp.

“Don’t you dare! That’s terrible. You can’t just joke about stuff like someone’s livelihood or—”

“Did I say I was joking?” He raised his brow, waving over the nearby flight attendant. My heart fell into my stomach. He wouldn’t.

When the woman approached, smiling courteously, he said, “Coke. Water, too.”

“Please!” I added, getting a polite nod from her before she turned away.

“You’re so cute,” he mumbled into his hand.

I turned my face towards the screen in front of me, pretending to care about which movie to select.

Dorian rested a hand lightly on my thigh beneath the blanket between us and went back to reading something on his phone.

When the flight attendant returned, carrying a bougie glass bottle of water and a glass of Coke—a glass , not a plastic cup—he tilted his head to wordlessly instruct her to place both on my tray table.

I thanked her and turned to Dorian after she left. “One of these isn’t for you?”

He smiled. “No. I knew you’d want the Coke, but the water is to make sure you stay hydrated.”

“Thank you…” I blushed, touched at how he always anticipated my needs before I even knew what I needed.

I watched the clouds drift by out the window, grounded by his touch. Maybe I didn’t belong in first class—but if I belonged to him , maybe I’d learn to stop questioning it.

Maybe it was okay to want nice things.

* * *

The rented car drove down the long, curving drive like it was heading straight into a memory I’d buried years ago.

Manicured lawns stretched wide under a sweltering Florida sky, the thick, prickly grass too green, too neat—like someone had pressed it all flat with a ruler. The main house sat beyond an iron gate that opened automatically as Dorian pressed a button on his phone.

Even behind the perfectly trimmed hedges lining the drive, I could already feel the weight of old ghosts staring at me, haunting me with memories I didn’t want.

My stomach twisted.

“I forgot how big it was,” I muttered, voice thin.

Dorian didn’t respond right away.

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 for staff, 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 watching me , 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.

Victoria had erased me.

I knew she hadn’t wanted me here, but seeing it so thoroughly confirmed in beige tones and minimalist furniture still hurt.

“She did this after I left?” I asked quietly.

Dorian nodded, his jaw tense. “The week after.”

I didn’t answer.

I couldn’t.

My feet felt as if they were glued to the floor. Part of me wanted to yell, to tear the curtains down, to remind the room that I existed —but what would be the point?

Tears flooded my eyes as my throat tightened with an onslaught of emotion.

“It hurts,” I choked, still looking around the unfamiliar room.

“I never forgot,” he said, voice strained, as he wrapped me in a tight embrace. I laid my head on his shoulder, tears wetting the fabric of his coat. “I promise, Josh. Those eight years… I never went a single day without thinking of you. I’m so sorry it took me so long to find you.”

I let out a wet laugh. “I was the adult. I should’ve been looking for you. I should’ve done something.”

“Angel, look at me,” he whispered. I lifted my head from his shoulder and stood toe to toe with him.

He smiled gently and cradled my face with his palms. “You were scared. I think for the entire time. You rebuilt your life, went to school, started driving, took over the cafe. All while terrified that something would happen and the rug would be pulled out from under your feet.”

“Dori… I love you. I’ve always loved you as my brother, and I never stopped. But this is more than that. I love -love you,” I cried.

Dorian closed the gap between us, pressing a butterfly-soft kiss to my lips.

I cried even harder because how could such a little peck convey so much emotion?

“I’ve love -loved you the entire time.”

I snorted at the sappiness of his confession, closed my eyes, and let my forehead fall forward to meet his.

“Why did you bring me here, Dori?” I asked, taking a breath.

“To burn it all down.”