Page 9 of Chasing After You (Twisted Desires #3)

Dorian

Yeah, admittedly, I had fucked up.

I knew Josh’s schedule by heart, and so I had tuned into the live feed from the coffee shop a few minutes before he was set to arrive, excited to see his reaction.

But my chest ached the second I saw him standing rigidly behind the counter, eyes fixed on the folded letter I’d left.

His shoulders were high with tension, jaw clenched so tight I could almost feel it in my own bones.

For a long time, he didn’t move. Then, once he did, he did everything except read the letter. He cleaned, rearranged things.

When the manager he’d hired came in, Kellie, I leaned closer to the screen, watching as she walked up to him.

I could read her concern in the slope of her brows, the way her hand touched his forehead.

I knew the look on Josh’s face too well—the trembling hands, the shallow breathing, the frightened eyes.

And I hated myself for causing it.

I thought the letter would be a gentler way in. No confrontation. No pressure. Just a few words to convey my intentions. But it was too much. I saw it in the way he collapsed onto the stool, in the way he had to be talked down from the ledge.

I pressed my hands to my face and exhaled slowly, trying to think.

Josh had always been sensitive, but I didn’t quite understand why he seemed so terrified of a simple letter. Didn’t he still love me?

Was he maybe scared of the possibility of Victoria’s wrath if he broke his no-contact promise? Maybe I should’ve explained in the letter that he didn’t need to worry about her anymore.

How could I approach him without pushing him further into that spiral?

The timing had to be perfect. Controlled. Safe.

But I didn’t want to wait much longer. I’d already waited eight years.

Seeing him like that—broken and shaking—gutted me. I wanted to run in, to hold him, to tell him he didn’t have to be afraid anymore because I would take care of him. But I couldn’t. Not yet.

I wanted him to want to see me.

Still, part of me burned with desperation. Maybe I could write another letter. Or leave something familiar—something from when we were kids. Something only he would recognize, that would let him know he was safe and could finally stop running.

Something that said, I’m here. I’ve always been here.

I clenched my fist around the piece of shattered ceramic that had hung around my neck for the past seven years.

I didn’t have much from our time together. But the reminder of Daniel’s death that I cherished would probably only give Josh a heart attack, so that wouldn’t be a good move.

I groaned, wishing that the answer would come more easily to me. My approach so far hadn’t had the effect I thought it would on him. I was just scaring him.

How could I get him to understand that I’d done all of this for us, so that we could be together again?

“Should I just lock him up somewhere?” I mumbled to myself.

No, fuck. That would probably scare him, too.

Oh!

What if I went through those twins he was staying with? There was something off about them; I could feel it. Maybe they would know what to do?

It would be risky, though.

And I hated asking for help.

I decided to try on my own for another week. Then, and only if I hadn’t made progress, I’d reach out to them.

I leaned back in my chair, the soft creak swallowed by the low hum of the monitors in front of me.

My fingers tapped against the armrest.

He used to find comfort in me, in the time we spent together. But now it seemed like he wanted nothing to do with me. That, even after eight years, he was still as terrified as the day he’d had to leave.

I had expected a little resistance from him at the start, but I thought he’d feel relieved that I’d found him and extend a warm welcome to me. Not this kind of fractured, trembling avoidance that made him look like he was seconds from vanishing into himself completely.

Why wasn’t he happy that I was here?

I’d put in so much effort to find him, to learn his habits.

Why couldn’t he understand that?

My eyes narrowed slightly at the thought of the twins again. There was something about them that made my skin crawl in a way I couldn’t quite place. People like that didn’t offer someone like Josh help out of pure kindness. There was a connection there—something deeper. I’d have to dig further.

Still, they were my last resort.

This next move had to be perfect. Quiet. Soft. Personal.

I had one week to get it right. One week to remind him what we were before everything fell apart.

After that… if I hadn’t gotten through to him by then—

I’d stop playing fair.

* * *

Josh had changed a lot in our time apart. Many things had stayed the same, like his kind green eyes and light brown hair that turned golden in the sun.

He’d always been taller than me, more so before; now, I was only two inches shorter than he was. His shoulders were broader than mine, and over the past eight years, he’d put on quite a lot of muscle.

I wasn’t skinny by any means, but I was definitely leaner than he was.

Seeing how the last time he’d seen me was when I’d been just thirteen, I wondered if he’d even recognize me now.

I looked in the mirror sometimes, trying to see myself the way he would.

Would he still see me under the sharper cheekbones, the longer hair, the faint bruised shadows under my eyes from too many sleepless nights spent thinking about him?

Or would he just see a stranger? And if he saw a stranger, what would he think of him?

I wasn’t the same boy he’d raised.

Josh had been the center of my world, even when he wasn’t in it. Every decision I made in the past eight years, every city I searched, every night I stood outside restaurants, every private investigator I’d gone through, was all for him.

I had played the part of Victoria’s perfect son, done what she’d asked of me, all the while I slowly and quietly ruined her life, eating away at her like a parasite.

I had fueled her alcohol addiction, even gotten conservatorship over her once I’d become an adult.

And when she’d finally hit rock bottom, I managed to get her to spill all she knew about where Josh had gone.

For the first month after he’d left, I had foolishly believed her when she’d told me that Josh had abandoned me, that he didn’t need me, didn’t want me.

I was furious at him.

That didn’t last long.

Once she’d stupidly let it slip that she’d made him run, she had sealed her fate. I had always hated her, but I hadn’t cared enough about her to do anything about it. But once I knew that she was the reason my precious older brother had upped and gone…

She had refused to tell me where he was for years, holding it over my head as a reward for my good behavior.

And now, she was rotting away in some fancy rehab I shelled out for so as not to draw any unwarranted attention.

So yes, I had changed.

But I still remembered the smell of his shampoo.

The way he snorted when he laughed too hard, the difference between his fake and genuine smile, the way he sometimes whimpered in his sleep when faced with memories of a past life, his nervous habit of pulling on his right earlobe—it was all cataloged in my head with other memories I would never forget.