Page 24 of Devil’s Kiss (Sunset Cove #2)

Dylan leaned up against the sink and shrugged. “You seem chill. That’s what I’m looking for.”

“I seem chill ? I have a purple face and you haven’t even seen the worst of it.”

“Hmm, yeah. That bothered me at first, but not so much now.”

Not understanding this guy in the slightest, Derek frowned and took his glasses off.

“ Jesus , that looks painful.”

“Yeah,” Derek agreed. “And this is a week later.”

“Damn. And the other guy?”

The way Dylan asked, Derek figured this was an important answer, so he was brutal in his honesty. “He doesn’t have a fucking scratch on him.”

Dylan nodded slowly and pushed away from the sink. When he stopped opposite Derek, he studied him in silent contemplation. “I figured. And just so there’s no confusion, I’m gay, in case you didn’t get that from the way I was looking at you. That gonna be a problem?”

He’d figured, but having it confirmed made this an even better fit. “Not a problem at all.”

“Good,” Dylan said, then, as if they weren’t discussing such serious shit, he asked, “You surf?”

“Ehh…not really.”

“What? What kind of Floridian are you?”

Derek laughed, thinking how well this guy would get along with Finn. “Apparently a bad one? I love the beach, but I’m not coordinated enough to balance on a board.”

“Well, Derek , if I can pretend to be a surfer and I’m not even from here, you can at least try to fit in.”

“Is that right?”

“Yeah. You should be ashamed of yourself.”

“I’m deeply ashamed. And where are you originally from, Prescott?”

“Prescott, huh? I can work with that. And the answer to that would be San Francisco,” he said, his voice taking on a slightly wistful tone. “I’ll get back there one day. Or at least to the West Coast.”

“Never been. Hate to say it, but I’ve never been much farther than an hour out of Sunset Cove.”

Dylan walked toward the front door and Derek followed. Once Dylan locked up and they were both standing on the little balcony overlooking the waves, he clutched his surfboard under his arm and headed toward the stairs leading down to the parking area.

Before he got too far, though, he said over his shoulder with a carefree laugh, “Not a bad place to be, all in all. Nice to meet you, Derek. I’ll see you tomorrow at ten. Don’t come earlier than that or you’ll be sorry. I am not a morning person.”

As Dylan disappeared down the stairs, Derek looked over the balcony and watched him cross the road and jog down onto the beach, and wondered if he really was an angel.

A beautiful figment of his imagination.

Guess he’d find out tomorrow—after ten.

“JORDAN? HEY, JORDAN. Are you okay?”

Jordan blinked and looked across the table to see Brantley frowning at him. It was Sunday morning, and the two of them had met up for their usual brunch and mimosas.

“Hey, yeah, sorry…I spaced for a minute.”

“I could tell. Anything interesting?” Brantley asked as he lifted his glass of OJ and champagne to his lips.

Jordan’s mouth pulled into a tight smile as he shook his head and pushed his eggs around his plate with his fork.

“Seriously. What is the matter with you? You look as if somebody stole your puppy.”

Well, kinda… He’d certainly lost someone he cared about—he just hadn’t realized how much until they were gone.

“Nothing. I’m just not feeling myself. That’s all.”

Brantley lowered his arm, placing his glass back on the table. “Is it August?”

“What?” Jordan asked, raising his eyes.

“Your ‘friend’ August. You told me he was heading overseas last week. I was wondering if he’s the reason you’re so?—”

Brantley’s words were cut off by Jordan’s phone buzzing on the table beside his arm. As his eyes flicked to the screen and he saw He-Man light it up, he snatched it off the table.

“Do you mind?” he asked quickly. “I’ve got to take this.”

Brantley shook his head and pulled his own phone out, and Jordan thought it funny that the two of them were now likely talking to their “students.”

After getting to his feet, Jordan hit the answer button as he wove his way through the tables and out onto the small deck that overlooked the rolling waves.

“Derek?”

He wasn’t sure why his heart was thundering like a million horses were galloping through it, but it was beating so hard that Jordan was positive the people seated out on the deck must’ve been able to hear it.

“You answered.”

Those two words made a smile stretch across Jordan’s lips. “I already told you?—”

“You’ll always answer,” Derek finished for him.

“If I’m able, then yes,” Jordan confirmed as a comfortable silence fell between them. It lasted all of two seconds, and then he had to know: “Are you okay? How’s your eye? Your lip? Where are you?”

Derek’s chuckle made Jordan want to strangle him. This past week he’d imagined every possible scenario, from the good, to the bad, to the downright morbid. “Don’t you dare laugh at me.”

“I’m sorry,” Derek said, and then he sobered. “I’m not really laughing at you. I was just imagining your face getting all red and cranky.”

“I don’t get cranky.”

“Yeah, you do, Devaney. It’s really cute.”

Jordan sputtered a little and was about to protest when Derek spoke up again.

“To answer you. I’m okay. Or, at least, I will be. My face is healing. I had a pretty smart guy patch me up…”

As Derek’s words trailed off, Jordan pictured the man who’d sat in his bathroom bruised and bloodied just last week and shut his eyes.

God, until this very moment he hadn’t realized just how much he wanted to reach out and?—

“Jordan?”

His name brought him out of his thoughts and had his eyes opening, almost as if Derek had appeared in from of him.

“Yes?”

“I’m okay. I promise.”

“The motel?”

“No,” Derek answered. “A roommate. He’s pretty cool, I think.”

Jordan wasn’t sure he was comfortable with the emotion that shot through him at those words, because if he wasn’t careful he’d almost believe it was…jealousy.

“Okay. Well, I appreciate you letting me know.”

As the silence stretched between the two of them this time, it felt gaping and vast. Final. And it was clear that this, whatever odd arrangement they’d had, was over.

“Jordan?”

“Yes?”

“I wish things were different.”

Jordan squeezed his eyes shut and willed himself to stay quiet. He knew exactly what Derek was referring to.

That unspoken element. That moment in the bathroom.

The kiss that had imprinted itself somewhere on his soul.

“I just want you safe, Derek.”

“I know. I want the same for you. That’s why I left. I took your address off the records at work and left no forwarding one. You should be safe now.”

Jordan swallowed around the words he wanted to say, something along the lines of I was always safe; no one could get inside my building , but instead he said, “Thank you.” When it appeared neither of them had anything else to say, he added, “If you ever need me…”

“I know. I’ll call. Goodbye, Jordan.”

“Bye, Derek.”

The phone call ended, and Jordan wondered if he’d ever felt such detachment in his life. The answer was simple. No .

Never had he permitted someone to rely on him in such a way. And never had he allowed someone to be the reason for his highs, or, he thought as his gut churned, the reason for this all-time low.

But the question he couldn’t seem to answer was: how did one survive such disconnect? Could they?

Or would he merely crave that same connection over and over until eventually it destroyed the beauty of what drew him in the first place?