by Jade Astor
Darian could easily imagine the terrible scene playing out in Victor’s mind. In the hours since Reece Hall’s power had come back on and the ambulance had left carrying Chuck, Logan, and Sandra to safety, Darian had seen it himself. Over and over.
Another image was burned in his brain, too—the sight of Jamie, bound and terrified in the darkness of the monks’ abandoned winery, fighting off frostbite and hypothermia through the force of his will alone. A few more hours might have resulted in a less hopeful outcome. But thanks to Wes’s inadvertent confession, and Argo’s speedy intervention, he was facing nothing worse than a short stay in intensive care.
“Are you okay?” Darian asked Victor, who looked up. His face, a mask of grief and agony, relaxed a little when his eyes met Darian’s.
“Yeah. I’m just trying to come to terms with everything that happened. Poor Mikah. All this time I was imagining him off on his own somewhere, living his life, maybe even thinking about the old days and remembering our time together fondly. Now I know he was all alone out in the mountains, rotting away in a disgusting shallow grave.”
“Hopefully they’ll find his remains eventually,” Darian said. “Argo’s been in touch with some of the forest rangers in that area. They’re going to search before the really cold weather sets in. If that doesn’t work, they’ll try again in the spring. Hopefully then we’ll get some closure.”
“Any news about Chuck and Logan?”
“Argo called the hospital, too. They’re both going to recover, though Chuck will need some major stitches in his scalp and Logan’s on a diet of charcoal. Apparently he accidentally drank the same stuff Wes slipped into Jamie’s makeup remover.” Darian scowled. “I’m furious with myself for not figuring that part out earlier. Wes was sitting right next to the bottles when it happened. He just exchanged the bottles when Jamie walked over.”
“Don’t beat yourself up. You did great, like you really have a nose for this detective stuff. Every consider ditching your Birchwood job and going into law enforcement?” Victor’s smile tightened. “You and Argo could start a P.I. firm, maybe.”
“No thanks. I’d rather read detective stories than live them. I think my boss at Birchwood would prefer it, too.”
“You mean Jeanette? Don’t worry about her. Secretly, she’s bursting with pride to have a real-life Poirot at the school. Don’t be surprised if she enlists your help next time some office supplies mysteriously go missing.”
Darian winced. “I hope not.”
“At least no one can say your life isn’t exciting. How many English teachers can say they lived out a real-life soap opera starring Jamie London?”
“Ha. I wish it were less exciting, actually.”
Victor’s mood shifted when looked back down at the picture in his hands. “Damn Wes. Really. I mean that literally. I hope he goes to hell for what he did.” Victor paused to swipe away tears. “But I don’t think I believe in that kind of hell. Don’t see how it’s possible. It’s something Dante made up in the Middle Ages to appease his own thirst for poetic justice. As for Mikah, maybe it would be better if they just let him rest where he is. Who knows? Maybe the only place he would really find peace is far away from the society he felt had rejected him. Including the so-called friends and family who betrayed him.”
“Maybe,” Darian said uncertainly. On one hand, Mikah and those who mourned him deserved a decent funeral. On the other hand, what Victor suggested had a certain poetic appeal. Wes had, it seemed, buried him with at least a modicum of respect. In his own twisted way, he had still loved Mikah even while he killed him.
“I’ll always miss him, you know.” Victor’s voice caught as he forced back a sob. “I always have, as much as I tried to deny it. I wonder if it would have worked out between us after all—like long term. Probably not. We were too young.” He paused and shook his head as if to clear it. “But even if the romance hadn’t lasted, I’d like to think we would have been lifelong friends. I believe in maintaining friendships after failed romances, and flirtations, you know.”
“I’m glad to hear that,” Darian said truthfully. “That’s always been my approach too. Why burn bridges? You never know when you might find yourself stuck on one side of a bottomless abyss.”
Victor nodded. “Exactly.” Cautiously, he reached up and gave Darian’s hand a quick squeeze. “By the way, you might as well know that I’ll be leaving here in a couple of days, assuming Argo gives me the all-clear. Back to New York.”
“Oh?”
“Yeah. It’s good news, though. Turns out I’ve got an audition lined up. It’s that crime series based on real cases—fluffed up for dramatic purposes, of course. How’s that for ironic?”
“Well, you know what Oscar Wilde said about life imitating art.”
“Would it be wrong of me to use this scandal to my advantage? Like Logan always says, you can’t buy that kind of publicity. The producers have got to see some potential in hiring me, right?”
“You’d think,” Darian said, surprised how quickly Victor’s grief seemed to fade. But then, maybe it was better for him to have something positive to focus on. He had a feeling that once he recovered, Logan would be equally eager to cash in on their ordeal. Maybe he’d even start a new film about their experiences. Darian would sit that one out for sure.
“It’s not a big part,” Victor went on, warming to his new topic, “but these things can take on a life of their own. Think about it—an actor in a cop show helped solve two real-life murders and brought a potential serial killer to justice. A couple of articles in the right gossip rags should do it. Okay, I’ll have to exaggerate my role in the investigation a little. You don’t mind, do you?”
No fib required there. “Not at all.”
“Anyway, that’s not the only reason I think they’ll give me a bigger part than they have planned. Once the public gets a good look at this face, they’ll want to see more of it. Right?”
He gave Darian his sexiest smile, and in spite of everything, Darian felt that familiar tingle in his stomach. This time, he could set it aside without regret.
“I’m sure they will,” he said. “What about the house? Will you be closing it down when you leave?”
“Nope. I’m letting Logan and Jamie house sit. My mother is okay with it. Actually, she prefers it if no one’s going to be here. This place is going to be beset by gawkers.”
“Thomas and his uncle will probably be after you again to start those tours,” Darian speculated.
“Maybe we should take him up on it this time. I have a feeling a murder tour would be a sell-out. That’s people for you.” Victor frowned. “Anyway, Logan and Jamie need some time to discuss things and get their relationship back on track. I have an inkling we’ll soon be invited to that wedding after all. At least, I hope so. When real love happens, it’s best to hang onto it. I know you feel the same.”
“I do,” Darian said, though it went without saying that the kind of love Logan and Jamie shared would not be the kind he wanted for himself.
“What about you? Back to school?”
“Yeah. I’m going to have an even narrower tightrope to walk this time. The students will be squirming to hear all the details about this little misadventure, and Jeanette will sternly caution me not to say anything that will get them over-excited. Meanwhile, Argo will tell me not to blab anything that might jeopardize his investigation until the whole case is officially closed.”
“Of course he will. The super-cop. Dutiful and dependable to a fault. What’s going to happen with him now?”
Darian knew what he was really asking. “I honestly don’t know, though I wish I did. Life would be so much simpler if we knew what was going to happen next, wouldn’t it?”
“Yeah. It would be easier. Maybe less painful. Would we want that, though? People say we learn from our pain more than we do our pleasures.”
“That’s probably true. Even if we knew what was coming, could we ever really prepare?”
“Doubtful
. At least we learned something from this mess. Even if there’s no movie. Not yet, anyway. I don’t put it past Logan and Jamie to come up with a whole new script while they’re holed up here.”
Sighing, Victor set the photo of himself and his friends back on the shelf and stood up.
“Come on. The snow’s stopped and the roads should be clear by now. You’re probably eager to get out of here.”
“I can’t deny it,” Darian confessed.
The foyer was still busy with investigators photographing and taking notes about the site where Wes’s body had lain. One of Argo’s deputies stood nearby, watching the proceedings with a stone face. Argo himself had already left, vowing to get a head start all the paperwork Darian’s latest escapade would soon generate for him. Darian gave the deputy a helpless shrug and saw his eyebrows go up just a fraction.
At the front door, Victor hugged him. There was a moment, during their embrace, when Darian was sure Victor was about to kiss him. He was still wondering how he ought to react if it happened when Victor stepped back and dropped both arms to his sides.
“Take care, Darian. I’ll look you up next time I’m in town, if that’s okay.”
“Sure. Yeah. I’d like that. Really.”
“You, Argo, and I can get together, maybe, if he’ll agree. We can use Bryce and Hanson as a buffer if we have to.”
“I can’t promise anything, but I will say that Argo’s not unreasonable. He’s just a little intense.”
“If you say so.” Victor flashed a guarded smile, and Darian allowed himself one final moment of curiosity about what might have been. “Too bad he doesn’t know enough to appreciate the good things life hands him. But I suspect he’ll figure it out in time.”
Darian felt genuinely helpless as he walked to his car. If it’s meant to be, it’ll be, his moms often told him. He was beginning to understand what that really meant.
For the next few days, he heard nothing from Argo. At least his Thanksgiving plans were resolved. He was invited to Into the Woods for a banquet-style celebration. Patricia had also invited most of his Birchwood friends and colleagues, so he had little doubt what topic the conversation would revolve around. No doubt the company would be lively, even if the celebration would be a drag without Argo. On the other hand, it was time he started moving forward with his life. As much as it hurt, he had to admit his attempts at sleuthing had failed to impress Argo enough to bring him back for a second round or even a discussion about what had gone wrong. It seemed clear Argo wasn’t interested in figuring out a way to fix things.
His moms had been right. Some things just weren’t fated to happen. Nothing anyone could do. It sucked how much it hurt to admit that, though.
The day before he was due back at school, he headed to the grocery store for a long overdue stockup of healthy foods to replace the comfort food, otherwise known as an overload of carbs, fat, and sugar, he’d been living off since his return from Reece Hall. When he pulled into his driveway with his car full of bags, his mouth dropped open and he almost forgot to step on the brake.
Argo’s SUV was parked in front of his front steps, with Argo in the driver’s seat. When he spotted Darian’s car in the rear-view mirror, he opened the door and slid out. He still moved a bit stiffly, though the sling was still gone and no bandage-shaped lump showed under his uniform jacket.
Darian stepped tentatively forward, half convinced the whole thing was a mirage that would disappear in a wisp of fog when he got too close.
Argo himself was carrying a paper grocery bag. Aha, Darian thought. Maybe some evidence from Reece Hall for him to identify. Or even some property he’d left behind and forgotten about. Either way, this was an official visit. A loose end he needed to include in his report.
“Came I come in?” he asked, shifting the bag from his left to his right arm.
Darian shrugged, feigning disinterest. The effort made cold sweat prickle on the back of his neck. “Sure. Why not?”
Argo followed him inside and set the paper bag on Darian’s coffee table.
“So there have been some developments,” he muttered. “Maybe you heard about already. They caught the guy who shot me.”
“No, I hadn’t heard. I’m glad.”
“Just as we suspected. Some lowlife with a drug habit. When Cutler arrested him, he wasn’t even sure if it really happened or it was just a dream. Good thing we got him off the street before he needed money for his next fix.”
“I agree. That’s reassuring news, for sure.”
Argo hesitated, glancing around the room as though he’d forgotten what it looked like. “So…what’s up with Victor? You hear from him?”
“Yeah. He called the other day to say he got a job playing a cop in some cable series. That means he’ll be in New York for a while.” Darian didn’t think he imagined Argo’s fleeting expression of relief. “He’ll be back for the holidays, though,” he couldn’t resist adding. “On Christmas Eve, Jamie and Logan are getting married at Reece Hall.”
“Oh?” Argo raised both brows.
“Yep. Seems their mutual brush with death made them realize what really mattered most to them. Turns out it was one another all along.”
A scoffing noise. “Well, that’s nice, I guess.”
“They invited me to the wedding, but I had to send my regrets. As you know, I’m going to be with my moms enjoying some Florida sunshine. Oh, yeah, and Bryce and Hanson also had an invitation for me. They want me to work on their summer production of an all-male Phantom of the Opera as their makeup artist. I said I’d think about it. Who knows? It might be fun.”
“Yeah. It would be an experience, at the very least.” Argo’s voice trailed off, and they stood in silence for a minute or two. Then Argo took a deep breath. “Darian, I’m sorry. I messed everything up between us. I know you’ve been waiting to hear me say that.”
“I was once,” Darian admitted. His heart began to race, though he was careful not to react outwardly. “It’s not much comfort now, though. A lot has happened in the interim. Maybe too much.”
“Don’t you get it?” Argo blurted. A burst of color darkened his cheeks. “I could have shot you! When you pushed that guy out of the way, you put yourself right in my bullet’s path. I was barely able to stop myself from pulling the trigger in time. Every time I tried to sleep after that night, all I saw in my mind was you lying dead, with my bullet in your chest. You can’t imagine what that did to me.”
“Of course I can imagine it. I imagined it too, just at a different time. In the moment.”
Argo started to say something else, but paused. Darian wondered if Argo had never truly realized how close he had come to getting a bullet in his chest instead of the fleshy part of his shoulder. He’d been too focused on keeping Darian from harm. A rush of hot emotion clogged his throat for a moment, but he swallowed it down.
“For what it’s worth, I’m sorry you had to go through that. I’m sorry you feel I went rogue on you. But I admit I didn’t think that far ahead. My only goal was to prevent you from being gunned down.”
“It wasn’t your place to do that. I’m the cop. You were a bystander.”
Darian crossed his arms and retreated a few steps. He wanted to put some distance between himself and Argo in more than one sense of the word. “You think you can control me, Argo. You want to dictate everything I do. I suppose it’s your way of wanting to keep me safe, and at some level I appreciate that. But I can’t live with your shadow looming over me all the time. I’m sorry.”
“I know that. It took me some time, but I’ve begun to understand it. Darian, I have a confession to make. I went to that police counselor after all.”
“Really?” Out of all the crazy things that had happened to him since he’d met Victor Reece, that single admission shocked Darian the most. “What changed your mind?”
“Too many nights without you. But I didn’t want to come back too soon and just pick up where we left off. The same problems would have come back. I wanted
to really fix things.”
“And did you?”
“I hate to say it, but you were right. The counseling helped.” Sighing, Argo rubbed the space between his eyebrows. “I talked about a lot of things in the hot seat with that police shrink. Hell, things came out I didn’t even realize I was thinking about. It was scary.”
Darian nodded. “That’s how it supposed to work. Gets into your subconscious, or humankind’s collective wisdom, or something like that.”
Argo nodded slowly. “I realized something, though. Something about you and me, and what we tried to build. I admitted to the counselor, and finally to myself, that I want this to last. I know we’ve got some work to do in that area. I only hope it isn’t too late.”
Darian gaped, temporarily speechless. Brightening, Argo bent and reached into the paper bag he’d placed on the table.
“The first step is for me to meet your family, don’t you think? That’s where this comes in.” From the bag, he removed a gallon jug of locally-made maple syrup, the label featuring a design of a frolicking moose backed by colorful foliage. “You think your moms will like it? Can’t visit Florida at Christmas empty handed, after all.”
Before he could remind himself to stay cool, aloof, and in control of the situation, Darian found himself blinking back tears. “I think they’ll love it.”
“Now that’s a word I like to hear.”
“What word?” Darian coaxed. He allowed himself to share Argo’s smile.
“Love.” Argo stepped closer, his arms open, and a moment later they were kissing. When they pulled apart, Argo rubbed his hands together.