Page 89 of Finley

But there was no sign of Daniel.

No suitcase in the corner.

No shirt lying over the arm of his wicker chair.

And the drawer in his bureau was open slightly, so he knew without looking that it would be as empty as this room was.

It was true. Daniel was really gone.

Walking over to the bed, he kicked his shoes off, wanting to lie down and try to forget everything that had just happened. It wasn’t until he was on the mattress that he saw it.

On the nightstand by Daniel’s side of the bed was a strap of leather. The same strap Daniel had worn every day he’d been there. It was lying flat on top of a piece of paper and had Brantley climbing over the bed quicker than he’d thought he could manage. He stumbled slightly, but when he finally reached it, he snatched up the leather and the paper and then sat back against the headboard.

He fingered the bracelet and brought it to his nose. Daniel’s fresh, clean scent lingered to mix with the leather, and Brantley closed his eyes.

God, why did I do this to myself again?he thought as he lowered it to his lap, and that was when he noticed the writing.

On the wide part of the leather that had sat flat upon Daniel’s wrist, four words were carved. As they connected with Brantley’s brain and the memory of Daniel telling him he’d gotten it the day he’d left all those years ago, Brantley wasn’t sure his heart could take the final blow. Because there, scratched into the leather, were the words he’d also carved into the kayak—only in past tense:I loved my teacher.

He brought a fist to his mouth to hold back the shout that threatened, and crumpled the piece of paper. As the pain splintered through him, he slumped down in the bed and opened the note to read whatever Daniel had written there. That was when he finally let the wave of sorrow take him under, and he let the paper fall to the bed beside him.

He didn’t need to reread the words. They would haunt him for the rest of his life.

I always will.

DANIEL OPENEDTHE door to his condo that evening and dragged his suitcase over the threshold. That was as far as he cared to bring it before he slammed the door shut and stood there. Stood there like a fucking tree rooted to the spot. He couldn’t believe he’d made it home—well, back there, wherever there was now. Because the immaculate, well-furnished space he used to feel most comfortable in suddenly felt completely foreign.

Making himself walk inside,at least to the couch, he shrugged out of his jacket, and just before he turned his phone off, it blared at him. He stopped in his living room, groaned, and then answered it.

“Hey, asshole. Ever think about giving a heads-up when you’re going to skip town?”

“Derek, I?—”

“Fucking save it, all right? You know, I’m getting sick and tired of you leaving as if you don’t give two fucks about anyone who lives here.”

“It’s not?—”

“It’s not what? Like that? Because I’m pretty fucking sure it is. You own a cell phone, right? You know how to use it, I assume, since you bothered to call your mother and tell her you were leaving. But me? Nope. I didn’t deserve a phone call. And you wonder why I don’t tell you shit.Thisis why. You really are city. Selfish, arrogant, and a fucking asshole. Hope you enjoy Chicago, Danny boy. Especially the cold fucking winter that’s coming your way.”

He was about to try to explain, but before he had the chance, Derek hung up. Daniel pressed redial, but it went straight to voicemail—all three times.Fuck. My. Life,he thought, and fell onto the couch.

Hewasa fucking asshole. He knew that. For a few days there, he’d deluded himself into thinking he was somebody he’d once been: the loving son, the fun friend, and the perfect lover. But he’d been fooling himself with that little fantasy world. That wasn’t him.

This was him. The expensive high-rise. The cars blaring their horns at one another. The angry person yelling at him on the other end of the phone. Yeah, this was more his reality. The rest had just been a nice illusion for a few days.

Turning his phone off, he threw it on the table beside his couch and closed his eyes. He didn’t want to talk to anyfuckingone. He’d contacted Moira and his mother as soon as he’d landed, but beyond that…he didn’t care to exist outside of his condo’s walls. Because the truth of the matter was the only person he wanted to talk to would likely never talk to him again, and because that was too hard to fathom, he didn’t find the need to talk to anyone else.

As he sat there, he tried to work out why everything felt so final and so much more unbearable this time, and as the minutes and hours passed and the dark Chicago night overtook the city, he worked it out.

When he’d left to study, he’d been determined that, one day, he would find the man who’d sent him away and prove that he had become something…someone. But now that he’d done that, now that he’d shown Brantley the man he was—where did that leave him?

His life was in Chicago. Brantley’s was in Florida. There was no reason now to find him, to prove anything. Brantley already knew everything he would need to about him. So now, all that remained was the possibility of running into him when he went home to visit his friends and family, andthatwas what was different.

That was what was killing him this time.

Because how would he ever survive knowing that Brantley Hayes was out there andnothis?

“AREYOU OUT of your fucking mind?” Jordan demanded early the next morning as Brantley pulled his front door open.