by E. R. Arroyo
I tense up. After a quick peek through the binoculars my panic over a possible invader is replaced with pure nerves, seizing all the muscles in my core. My heart rate kicks into high gear. “I know him,” I tell Eli.
Across the river, Dylan marches toward The City, fists at his sides, chest puffed up. No weapon in sight. Even from here I can see anger coming off him in waves. Not a good idea when approaching this place.
Eli relaxes. “Oh, is that your, um…”
I meet his eyes. “Yeah.”
“I’ll finish the shift alone but I have to tell Flex he’s here.”
I stuff my gear into my bag and head toward the fire escape. “Thanks.”
“Are you gonna tell Tyce?”
I pause at the top of the ladder, staring at the rooftop. “See you later, little brother.”
Once my feet hit the pavement, I start to jog. The place where he appeared to be crossing the river is only about two streets over. I’m cutting through an alley when I hear shouting. Panic rears its head again, and I begin to run with all I have.
Rounding the corner onto the Boulevard, I find Dylan on his knees, hands in the air. Flex stands behind him with a knife at his throat.
“No!” I shout, closing the distance.
Flex’s eyes dart to mine, widening when he sees my face. He hesitates.
“No, it’s Dylan,” I tell him. “It’s my friend. Please don’t hurt him.”
“What’s he doing here?” Flex growls through gritted teeth.
I stop short holding my hands up, palms out toward Flex. “I don’t know. Please…”
Flex’s posture relaxes, shoving Dylan forward. “You armed?” Flex demands.
Dylan gets to his feet swiftly, dusting off his knees. “No,” Dylan responds, his voice low and angry. The familiarity of the rumbling sound puts flutters in my belly, shocking me and causing a blush to creep onto my cheeks.
“What do you want?” Flex flicks his wrist back and forth, toying with his knife.
“I would like to speak with Cori.” Dylan doesn’t look at me—he keeps his glare trained on Flex, not cowering one bit. And why would he? He’s bigger than any guy in The City, except maybe Gavin.
Flex points his blade at Dylan as if accusing him. “You ain’t gettin’ within five feet of her till you lose the edge, friend.”
Dylan purses his lips, lifts a brow. His gaze drifts from Flex to me and back. Confusion crosses his features quickly, then he relaxes his face. He takes slower, deeper breaths, calming himself. Finally, he meets my eyes. Tucks his hands in his pockets.
“May I have a word with you, please?” His voice is calmer, but I can tell it’s forced. His eyes soften the longer we peer at each other. The perfect olive tone to his skin, the depth to his dark green eyes, the confidence in his posture, the strength in his build … all reminders of the guy I once adored.
All this time I’ve been away from him. All the anger and despair I’ve worked through without him, all the pain over what he said to me, and the disappointment when he didn’t show up on the Mercy trade … all of it culminates in my pounding heart, my body unsure what to make of the warring emotions fighting for a place in my head.
Despite everything—despite right or wrong, who hurt whom—I’ve missed him.
Flex clears his throat and I tear my eyes away from Dylan.
“I’m okay,” I tell Flex. “Can I take him to my place so we can talk?”
Flex sizes Dylan up, then finally shrugs. “Fine.”
I thank him then head toward Penn, with Dylan a few paces behind. Once we’re out of Flex’s sight, I slow down enough for Dylan to fall in step beside me.
“This bridge was a lot easier to cross than the last one,” he finally says. He points over his shoulder. “I’m beginning to think your friend was trying to get us killed.”
“Maybe it was a test of character.” I stuff my hands in my pockets. He doesn’t smile so I don’t either. My pulse still hasn’t slowed, pure anxiety coursing through my body.
Awkward silence ensues.
“You look good,” he says, looking me up and down, I follow his gaze to my city attire—black pants and black shirt. A hole worn into the knee of my pant leg. “A little beat up though. How are you?” His expression softens a little more.
I glance down again at the scratches up and down my arms and the bandage on my right forearm. I shrug. “I’m fine. How about you? All healed up?”
“Mostly.”
I keep my hands tucked in my pockets and my gaze ahead as I guide Dylan toward my apartment. I clear my throat. “And … the infections? The women?” If it’s possible, my heart pounds even harder awaiting his answer.
His lips pull into a tight line, anger seeming to flare. He pushes it down before he answers. “Same.”
I nod. Part of me wants to unload everything that’s happened in the couple months I’ve been here and tell him all about the Burke building and the things Tyce told me. But I’m still too nervous and I have no idea what Dylan has finally come all this way to tell me.
Surprisingly, I realize I’m not angry anymore. As hurt as I was when he suggested I be subjected to more testing and procedures, I can no longer fault him for asking. The medical problems in Mercy were taking a huge toll on Dylan and he was looking for answers. Still, the thought of labs and needles petrifies me.
When we reach my blue door I turn to him, looking him in the eye. “Why did you come here?”
“That’s tough to say, really. I uh…” He pauses, scrunching his face like he searching for the answer. It’s weird to see him fumble, normally he’s so sure. “I guess I needed to make sure you were okay. I didn’t know exactly what you were waiting on, so I decided to come find out.”
The distance between us feels a mile wide even though he’s three feet away. “I’m not waiting on anything.”
“Then what are you doing here, Cori? You can’t pretend the world out there isn’t still turning. People are still dealing with the aftermath of something we started.” He clears his throat. “Together.”
I prop my hand on the knob, considering inviting him inside but I need to know his intentions before I bring him into my new home—a haven that I’ve come to revere. If he’s here to give me a guilt trip, or worse, if he’s about to break my heart again, maybe I should let it happen here on the street so I can still have my safe place upstairs. From the guarded look on his face, I don’t think he came here to make amends.
“You’re different, you know,” I tell him.
His eyebrows draw in, confusion marking his features. “How so?”
“Dylan, is there anything else you came here to say? I need to know. I can’t stand the way this feels. It’s like we’re not even the same people right now. You’re looking at me like I’m a stranger.”
“I’m not certain you aren’t a stranger.”
I exhale, starting to feel exasperated. I realize all too quickly how much emotion I’ve been masking and hiding from. My new life in the Pitt has only been a distraction from what I’ve been feeling deep inside. Longing, sadness. Regret. Guilt.
“Right…” I turn the knob and push through the door, allowing myself to flop down onto the stairs. Dylan fills the doorway with his massive frame, leaning against the door jam. “I needed some time,” I explain. “I’ve missed you, but I’m not ready to do what you asked of me. I’m not ready for all of the Refuge colonies to depend on me. Do you realize how huge that is? There has to be another way.”
His temper flares, fists clenching at his sides. “Cori, I’ve done everything I can. Everything. Exhausted every resource. Consulted every expert. Used every single medicine, herb, and remedy I have had access to. I know exactly the weight of what I’ve asked of you. I know exactly. I’m just waiting for you to grow up and stop being so incredibly self-centered.”
Ton of bricks. Right in the chest. I don’t know whether to cry, punch him, or run away. I decide on the latter. I get to my feet and rush up the steps.
&
nbsp; “Oh no you don’t,” he says, following me up just as quickly.
At the top, I bust through the door, barely into the apartment when Dylan wraps an arm around my waist and flips me around to face him. He’s so close I can feel his panting breath on my face. His eyes, the fiercest I’ve ever seen them. “We’re having this conversation.”
My breath is caught in my throat from being so close to him. I’m equal parts angry, ashamed, and madly in love with the passionate man Dylan is becoming. And he’s staring at my lips.
Right when I’m sure he’s about to kiss me, his eyes drift to my bed where Tyce has just been startled awake, his chest bare beneath the rumpled sheets.
“Where are we?” Dylan grumbles, his eyes narrowed and brows furrowed.
I sigh. “My apartment.” My eyes sting. Dylan is connecting all the wrong dots. “It’s not—”
“Is this why you broke up with me?” he accuses, pointing at Tyce. “To be with him?” His voice is filled with disgust and disdain.
“You broke up with him, doll?” Tyce’s face is tired and confused. Hurt, even. I never told him.
Dylan lets go of me and stomps back down the stairs. I rush after him, latching onto his arm when we hit the landing. He jerks free and faces me, his expression unreadable.
“Talk,” I beg. “Please. Don’t go, let’s talk. That’s what you wanted, right?” Any trace of affection is gone from Dylan’s gaze—it’s all business now. And I hate so much that he’s put a wall up because of me. What am I doing?
What have I done?
“Fine.” He crosses his arms.
“Dylan, I’m sorry.” I point upstairs. “That’s not—”
“I didn’t come here to talk about that,” he cuts me off. “I came here to talk about the sick people you abandoned. All this time, honestly, I’ve been thinking of all the things I would say if you ever came back. Now … I don’t even know where to start. Or if it’s even worth it.”
His expression is hard, his eyes narrow. I can’t read his demeanor. This isn’t the boy I grew up with. The Dylan I knew was even tempered. Always. A solid rock. Steady, dependable, and predictable. He never spoke to me like this. Never raised his voice to anyone.
I swallow hard. “Dylan, I’m a captive audience. You can say anything.”
His anger seems to abate.
“I get it, okay. You ran away. It’s what you do. So I was only slightly surprised when I walked into your abandoned bedroom to apologize. But I didn’t think you’d stay away. Not this long. Were you ever going to return, really?” His eyes drift upstairs then back to me.
Something snaps and all my pent up emotion rages full force. “Did you see the way those women were looking at me? I was useless back there. You were working so hard and there was nothing I could do.”
“See, that’s where you’re wrong, isn’t it? There was something you could do—you just didn’t want to. And I get it. I promise I do. But I don’t understand how you can do so many insane things, risking your life for others, yet you can’t do this thing I’ve asked. It’s me, Cori.” He lays his hand against his chest. “You’d be in my care, not some Antius drone. Don’t you trust me at all? Don’t you know that I would do anything in my power to keep you safe and comfortable?”
All of a sudden it’s hard to swallow, my throat dry but eyes moist—stinging. He presses his palm against the wall, towering over me. Looking so very much like he wants to touch me.
“I realize what I asked you stung deeply.” His voice is softer. “But that was my only option. Still is. You need to understand I had to ask you that. I’m looking out for everyone. And you know what, I’ve done more good in these past couple months in Mercy than my entire life in Antius. It feels good to belong there.”
“I’m glad you feel that way. But I don’t. I was a spectacle there. Here, I contribute. I hunt. I fit in. I feel at home here.”
He pushes away from the wall and from me. “How dare you say that—that this place is home. That these people are. That he is.” He points up the stairs where Tyce is in my bed. Heat floods my cheeks as I realize how bad it must look to Dylan. I had no idea Tyce would be here considering the shift in our relationship over the last twenty-four hours. A wave of guilt rushes over me, but I can’t acknowledge it. Not while I’m so angry.
“Are you jealous?”
“No, Cori, I’m furious.”
He rushes out the door and slams it so hard I jump. I stare at the blue door in a stupor until he opens it again a moment later, pointing his finger in my face.
“You know what … I can’t believe you. It’s not all about you anymore!”
“It’s my head you want to drill into,” I fume, pointing to my head. “Hey, maybe you should knock me out for old time’s sake and take it against my will.”
His eyes widen. “Unbelievable,” he grumbles on his way out the door, this time not closing it.
“That’s it?” I call after him, not sure if he can hear me or if he’s long gone. “You came all this way and that’s all you have to say to me? Who’s walking out now?”
When his reply comes, it’s still close by and weighted with pain. “You’re the one who left me, remember?”
I creep out the door and find him facing the building with his head down and one hand propped on the brick wall.
“I left Mercy.”
He doesn’t look up. “Honestly, what’s the difference?”
“I don’t love Mercy.”
His head pops up, his eyes burning. “What are you saying?”
My heart pounds while silence is my only reply. Dylan loves me, I know. He has told me so, but I’ve never responded.
“Yeah, that’s what I thought,” he grumbles as he walks away.
“Wait,” I call out. I’m sure of this.
He stops ahead but doesn’t turn. I catch up to him and slip my arms around his waist, pressing my cheek against his back. “I love you,” I whisper.
He rests his hands atop mine, hugging them to his abdomen. A moment later he lifts his arm and tugs me around his body so we’re face to face. I keep my arms tightly around him, not letting him go for a second. Looking down at me, his gaze smoldering, he grips the back of my head, pulling me up onto my tiptoes. His lips are a breath away. A heartbeat, a tiny moment from sealing the promise I want to make.
I hesitate to speak, not knowing what I should say anyway, so I don’t mind when Dylan doesn’t give me the chance. Instead, he closes the distance between us, his mouth consuming mine. My chest burns with regret that I ever walked away from this.
Dylan’s hand on my head holds me in place as he draws the other to my face, cupping my jaw while he completely owns me with his lips. It’s bliss and agony becoming one. It’s not motivated by grief or any messed up notions about friendship. It’s passion. It’s longing. It’s love.
Then a door slams behind us, followed by a deep sigh infused with irritation.
I go still in Dylan’s grip. I pull back from his kiss but he does not let me go. He knows exactly who has interrupted us and the glint in his eye tells me he knows exactly what he’s going to do about it. I cringe, hoping it’s nothing drastic. I’m thankful Dylan isn’t a particularly violent breed.
But Tyce is.
Dylan outweighs him by at least forty pounds and stands taller too. Surely Tyce won’t do something stupid. Considering our conversation last night he shouldn’t be surprised by this.
“What’s all this yelling goin’ on? Can’t get any rest with all the commotion.” Tyce spits on the ground, crossing his arms like he’s bored. Suddenly, he’s only a boy—immature and hurt. I can see the sting in his eyes despite the façade he’s plastered on for Dylan’s sake.
“Maybe you should try getting some rest in your own bed,” Dylan growls, finally releasing me.
I straighten my shirt, not the least bit ashamed to have been caught this time. “Guys…”
“She hasn’t minded me in her bed, friend. Trust me.” Tyce winks suggestively,
and in a split second Dylan lets go of my hand and barrels toward him.
I catch up quickly and throw myself between the two. In lieu of Dylan’s would-be attack, I shove Tyce one good time to get the point across. “Stop being a jerk, Tyce.” I face Dylan and force him to look at me. “He’s just trying to rile you up.”
“Tyce! Cori!” The three of us turn to see Flex and Gavin running toward us. “Come quick!” Flex waves for us to follow, but his eyes stop on Dylan and he doesn’t have to say a word for me to know he doesn’t want him to come along.
“What’s going on?” Dylan asks.
“I’m not sure.” My heart is suddenly torn in two. I realize what’s about to happen and I hate it.
I look from Dylan to Tyce and back to Flex. “I’ll stay behind. You go ahead.”
Flex has made it to about ten feet from us when he stops. “No, you gotta come. He can wait for you here.” If Flex is dismissing Dylan that easily, something huge has happened.
“Dylan, wait for me? Please.”
Betrayal sparks in his eyes, but he doesn’t act on it.
“Please stay. I have to go with them but I’ll come back. Alone. Soon as I can, okay?”
“Cori—”
“Please.” I reach up and take his face in my hands and plant a kiss on him hoping so much that it says enough to make him stay.
He gives the slightest of nods, then Tyce and I are on our way, sprinting behind Flex and Gavin toward a hideout only a few of us even know about.
Tyce reaches for my hand while we run, knowing full well Dylan is probably still watching us. I pull my hand away and shove him again. He laughs and stumbles to the side a bit before righting himself.
“What’s going on?” I pant.
“We caught one.”
Chapter Eleven
“He won’t tell us his name. But he’s definitely Antius just like the other one.” Gavin scratches his scruffy chin, looking briefly over his shoulder at the captured spy.
“He has a chip?” Tyce asks.
“Yep.”
“What do we do?” I try to get a good look at the guy. He’s turned so I can only see part of his face and what I can see is a bloody mess. “Is he saying anything?”