His mouth flattens a little, but there is a flicker of admiration in his eyes.
“Alright,” he says holding his hands up in defeat. “You win tonight, but I still need the name of your chosen charity.”
“But I didn’t accept yet,” I said, the words tripping out of my mouth in a panic.
“Ah, but I said that I would donate the money tonight, and I am a man of my word.”
He said that I was the winner, but I’m the one wearing the dumbstruck expression while his face is glowing with a triumphant smirk. He really must be rich if being out $10 million can be pleasurable.
“Um,” I wish I paid more attention to the names of charities, but I’ve never been in a position like this before. “I don’t have a specific name, but I would like the money to go to mental health services,” I say, thinking of the girl in biology that tried to use Dorian as a weapon against herself. “Suicide prevention, specifically.”
“I know of several good organizations that could put the money to use.” I think he knows why I chose that cause, and he’s once again giving me that look that makes me feel like I’m precious to him.
“Thank you,” I say, a little unsure if that’s the right sentiment for the situation.
“Thank you,” he responds in kind, but it seems strange that he should be thanking me when he’s the one that will be giving away fortunes of money. “…for not making this more difficult, yet.” he continues. “Lavinia’s actions started with a need for money. I wouldn’t want anyone with mystical power forced to do something because they lacked money.”
It makes even more sense that Dorian has been so insistent about my finances – he’s trying to prevent the circumstances that lead to his curse. It does give me something more to consider.
After we said goodnight, I find myself sitting on the couch taking stock of where things are at.
I can’t be certain of my past or my future. If everything were to come crashing down around me tomorrow, there is one thing that I would regret leaving unresolved in the life I’ve known – this rift with Wyatt. He might be mad at me now, but if I were suddenly gone, the guilt over our last fight would eat him alive even though he did nothing wrong. That’s just who he is.
Without being able to rely on my future with any certainty, I can’t afford to leave something like this unresolved. I might not have any control over most of what’s to come, but I have the power to fix things with Wyatt tonight.
Chapter 21
It’s really cold outside and I should have worn a heavier coat, but I didn’t think I’d to be sitting on the steps outside Wyatt’s apartment. Wyatt and I have been so close for so many years, that it didn’t even occur to me that he could have plans I wouldn’t know about – It reinforces how much things have changed and the reason why I’m here.
I feel like an idiot shivering and waiting like this, but I feel like I need to see Wyatt to fix what’s wrong – I can’t just text him, so I’ll sit here a while longer hoping that he’ll be quick to return home.
I wasn’t even thinking about how these were Coan’s front steps too until I saw him sitting down next to me wearing a pale purple full-length puffer jacket. Of course, his hair was dyed in a matching color.
“I would let you inside, you know,” he says, once he’s fully seated beside me.
“Thanks, but I’m waiting for my friend Wyatt.”
“I know, I was offering to let you into his apartment.” He says it like it was the only thing his offer could have meant.
“Most people would invite me into their own apartment, and not their neighbors.”
“Yes, but most people would also rather talk with me than your boring friend. You don’t seem to enjoy our talks that much, so…” His tone sounds a little hurt, and I feel bad because I realize that he has good reason to believe that.
“I’m sorry.”
“It’s okay. From what I heard, you and Dorian are finally making some progress, so maybe I’ll have a vacation from all the lovey-dovey drama.”
I can’t help but smile thinking about all that’s been said between Dorian and I, and our date tomorrow night.
Coan continues “Before you two go crazy, I do have a few words for you. Dorian deserves some happiness, so don’t play around with his feelings. Just remember that he was engaged to the last girl and they never even kissed – take it slow with him, he’s got a rough past, and he grew up in a pretty conservative time period.” There’s Coan protective side showing again. How he cares for Dorian is the thing that makes me like him the most.
“Don’t worry. Dorian means a lot to me too.” He smiles at my words and starts to stand.
“Your friend will be here soon – it’s probably best that he doesn’t realize we know each other.” He points at the ring around my pinky finger and it’s a reminder of how I need to be guarded with what I tell Wyatt, for his own safety.
I return the quick wave and smile that he gives be before slipping back through his door. Coan isn’t like anyone else I’ve ever met before, but I think we could really be friends. As long as I can remind myself that he’s a good person on the inside, I think I can tolerate his self-important exterior. The more I see how much of a friend he’s been to Dorian, the easier it is to see the good in him.
I stay where I’m at for only another minute before I see Wyatt drive up.
His shoulders are hunched and he’s looking down as he walks up to me. He’s in such deep thought, that he doesn’t even notice me until we’re just a few feet apart.
He gasps with shock when he realizes that I’m right in front of him and I take the opportunity to say “Boo!” and act like I meant to surprise him.
After his initial wide-eyed reaction, he doesn’t even smile, so I know he must still be really mad at me.
“What are you doing here, Lucky?” he asks like he doesn’t want me around. I’ve never gotten that kind of response from him before – ever!
“You know why I’m here, Wyatt” I try to convey that I’m sorry with my tone and save the actual apology for when we’re inside.
He’s fumbling with the key in the lock and he doesn’t respond. When he finally gets the knob to turn, he pushes the door open and walks through without inviting me in, but he doesn’t shut the door on me either, so I walk inside.
He takes off his coat and boots but doesn’t reach out a hand to take my coat like he usually does. Whenever I came over, he always took my coat and hung it up for me. It isn’t that I couldn’t hang it up myself, it’s just something I never did because Wyatt and I had a ritual. I feel a pain of sadness as I stand there for a second holding out my coat before I give up and hang it myself.
Wyatt’s apartment is very sparely furnished, and there isn’t anything decorative or nonfunctional. He has a cardboard box for a coffee table and crates up against a wall to hold his books, but at least he keeps things tidy. The stand for his TV is the broken old TV from his grandma’s house – the kind that were built 50 years ago to look like furniture. I never saw it in working order, but I remember how it was used for almost the same purpose by his grandmother before he built her something to replace it.
It makes me think of how kind and giving his is. He’s built things for me and everyone else in his life because he just doesn’t have a selfish bone in his body. I can see through his open bedroom door to the one nice thing in his apartment – the mate to the nightstand he built for me.
“I’m sorry that I kept you away from my dorm room, and that I’ve been distant lately.” I can feel the guilt pulling down the corners of my mouth into a frown and drawing my eyes toward the floor.
When I hear Wyatt sigh, I look up to see him standing behind the counter in his kitchen, head slightly tilted, taking in my expression.
“Can I make you a sandwich or something?” he asks. It’s been such a crazy day that I didn’t even realize how many meals I’ve skipped until just now.
My stomach answers for me as it rumbles loudly, and the first hint of a
smile appears on Wyatt’s face. He gestures to one of the shabby mismatched stools on the opposite side of the counter and then goes to rummage in his fridge.
He sets to work assembling two ham sandwiches in front of me on the speckled blue laminate countertop. Ham sandwiches are about the fanciest thing he’s ever made, but they don’t need to be fancy because that’s how we like them. One made with Mayo because that’s how my mom did it, and one made with Mustard because that’s how his grandma did it. We both eat half of each sandwich -we’ve always eaten them this way.
Everything about Wyatt reminds me of our history together – chasing each other through the fields, climbing up stacks of hay in the barn, and always getting in trouble because we’d come home with our clothes filthy and torn. He is my sunny summer day of childhood. He is so entwined with my past that I can’t imagine any part of it without him. I never should have allowed this fissure in our relationship.
Each sandwich is now assembled and on their respective plates and cut into two pieces. He grabs up all the unused ingredients in one giant armful and pushes it onto the fridge shelf with his stomach before closing the door quick, so nothing falls back out. Sliding one of the plates toward me and carrying the other in his hand, he makes his way around the counter and sits next to me. In a move we’ve practiced a thousand times, we each reach out one hand toward the others plate and claim half of the others sandwich as our own.
We both sit facing forward, eating our sandwiches for a while until Wyatt finally speaks without moving his eyes off of the kitchen sink on the opposite side of the kitchen.
“How long have you been dating this guy?” he asks.
“Um…,” I say, a little uncomfortable answering this question. “Our first official date is tomorrow.”
“You haven’t even gone out on a date, and this guy is your boyfriend?” Wyatt sounds annoyed.
“I know it’s odd, but it’s complicated. We’ve known each other since the first week of school, and we’ve spent time together…. I don’t really want to talk about all of my history with Dorian right now, I just need to know that you and me are okay first-that we’re still best friends.”
Wyatt sucks in a deep breath, and I can see different emotions flash across his face, but each one only lasts for an instant.
After a few seconds, Wyatt’s face draws up into a peaceful smile. “We are and will always be best friends, Lucky.” He wraps me into one of his bear hugs and picks me up off the stool with part of a sandwich still in my hand that is now squished between us.
“Thanks Wyatt,” I say as I try to free one of my arms so that I can hug him back. I’m so happy that we’re not fighting anymore that I don’t even complain that he’s picked me up again.
I know that there is so much more I need to tell Wyatt, but now that I know we’re okay, I just don’t have the energy. I’m also worried that I might slip and say too much if I’m groggy – I know that Coan’s warning to me earlier was real and I don’t want to risk Wyatt’s mind. As long as we’re still friends, I can catch him up on everything – it doesn’t need to be tonight, we’ll have time for details later.
Wyatt must be able to see how tired I am too, because when he puts me down again, he pushes me backward until I fall into his couch. He quickly sits down next to me and wraps an arm around my shoulder.
It feels like all the anxiety and change I’ve faced today has transformed into a heavy blanket wrapped around my body, dragging me down into sleep. It’s a type of exhaustion that is so intense precisely because there was no real physical activity to balance out the weariness in my nerves, but all of that anxiety is gone now – I’m home (Wyatt’s home, but that’s just as good), I’m safe, and there are no daggers waiting to drop on me tonight. All I need to do now is get some rest.
Wyatt turns on the TV, but I don’t even keep my eyes open long enough to see what program he settles on.
Chapter 22
Iwake up hot and uncomfortable to realize that Wyatt must have moved me to his bed after I fell asleep. I’m in all the clothes I was wearing last night including a heavy sweatshirt and fuzzy socks. On top of that, Wyatt must have added a heavy layer of blankets. The mass of fabric all around me is so twisted up from rolling around that it feels like a strait jacket. I have to fight my way out to reach the cool fresh air. Next to the bed is a sleeping bag and pillow, where Wyatt must have spent the night – I’ll need to apologize later to him for that.
The room is bright with the light streaming in through the one window in the room. I feel much more rested than I was last night, but I think I could have slept another hour if I didn’t have this uneasy feeling that I can’t quite identify.
Everything is quiet and I don’t see Wyatt, but I do find a note from him explaining that he went to the shop and that I could stop by if I wanted to. The bottom of the note has a funny little doodle of me sleeping surrounded by the seven dwarfs, and it makes me smile. It’s exactly what I would expect Wyatt to write for me, and the familiarity of it is like a memory. Wyatt and I still have a lot to talk through, but I know we’ll be ok.
It’s funny how the routine of going to sleep and waking up again can clear you mind and focus your outlook on things. Already I feel like I have some perspective on everything that happened yesterday, and I can see my goals in front of me.
No matter how else my life may need to change, I won’t let myself be separated from my friends and family. No matter what we find out about my ‘true’ identity or past, I refuse to leave behind my history as I know it. I’ve been happy, and the people in my life have made me who I am. I will figure out a way to keep my old life, my new life with Dorian, and whatever life I find out about next.
I am up, milling around Wyatt’s apartment to shake off the physical fatigue of waking up and the mental fatigue of coming to terms with my new reality and I feel cold wind against my back. I feel it almost as soon as I hear the door fly open. I turn around expecting to see Wyatt, but instead it’s Coan who’s grabbing my hand.
“Come on! Dorian needs us!” Coan yells with a panicked look in his eyes. He’s pulling my hand so hard, I almost fall before I find my feet and follow him. I can see the trees and grass outside are all covered with a thick layer of white frost and I bend down to grab my shoes before he pulls me out the door with him. He jerks hard on my arm again causing me to miss grabbing the top of my shoes.
“Never mind that!” he yells as he rushes out the door. I look up at him waiving his hand in the air and I take my first step outside. I expect to feel the bitter cold of the cement against my bare foot, but as I step down I feel the shielding layer of my shoes. My jacket came out of nowhere and is suddenly around me too as I get past the door that closes behind me with a thud.
What Coan said is finally filtering into my consciousness – Dorian is in danger?!? He’s immortal, so there should be nothing that could hurt him, right? He’s told me that himself. Obviously, Coan believes something is very wrong – I can see the horror of it on his face. As his worry registers in my mind it’s mirrored by my own. A fear that I’ve never known before I met Dorian is suddenly in my chest again. It’s a sudden lack of breath that I’ve come to associate with knowing that Dorian is in harm’s way – it’s something I’ve never felt so strongly for myself or anyone else. It’s a feeling that if something happened to him, it wouldn’t matter what else remained intact because nothing could ever be right again.
Coan sets off in a sprint across the frozen white grass, still dragging me behind him. I’m trying my best to keep up, but his long legs push him faster than I can run. I don’t have the breath or the time to ask Coan where we’re going. When I try to open my mouth, the wind is so forceful and cold that it keeps any breath that I have from coming out. It looks like Coan’s running toward the cabinet shop where Wyatt works, but he doesn’t stop and passes by the door. Ahead, I can see Dorian’s SUV angling down into the steep ditch alongside the road. A car accident? But that shouldn’t hurt him…
Th
e wind is getting even more fierce and biting and it’s hard to see through my tearing eyes. It’s less snowing than icing down on us with sharp little crystals flying sideways with the speed of the wind. I feel like we’re trying to run face first into the shooting spout of a snowblower. It’s far too early in the year for this kind of weather, but Wisconsin is known to have odd weather extremes. I’ve got one hand up shielding my eyes, so I plow into Coan when I don’t see that he’s stopped in front of me.
We’re standing in front of the high white fence that surrounds the grounds of Q-Paint, the business that does custom paint jobs on cement trucks. One of the largest cement truck manufacturers is located about 20 minutes away, but a lot of their trucks come to Q-Paint before being shipped to customers so that they can get custom colored spirals and designs put on the trucks. The big gates blocking the entrance are closed for the weekend, but squinting to look into the wind, I can see why Coan stopped at this point in the fence. The top and bottom rail are still intact, but there is a long vertical cut in the mesh that we might be able to squeeze through. The fence is shaking so hard in the wind that it looks like it could rip away from its foundations any second. I can’t tell if the hole is manmade or if it was ripped by the wild gusts of wind.
Coan looks back at me and says “Wait here! That other Druid is back, and he’s got Dorian. I’ll call for you when you’re needed.” He slipped through the hole in the fence as he spoke the last words, leaving me shivering and waiting.
My heart feels like a hard lump in my chest – constricted by the unknown of what might happen to Dorian. I try to convince myself that I should do what Coan said and wait here. I tell myself that I don’t know what harm I could be causing by rushing in and I’m sure that Coan would put Dorian’s safety before my own, so I should be able to trust his direction.
Lucky: Dorian Gray Novels Book 1 Page 20