Riley’s SUV was not on the lot, but sometimes he parked in the back.
Maybe he was napping? They were always short on sleep. If Lucas ever did go on vacation, he wouldn’t mind spending half of it sleeping. He sighed, double-checked that he had his laboriously written letter safely in the pocket of his parka, and then got out and went up the wooden staircase.
He knocked a couple of times and then rang the doorbell.
Nothing.
He waited, then returned downstairs and got back in his SUV. He tapped his fingers restlessly on the steering wheel.
It was possible Riley was out running errands.
If he was planning on spending Christmas on his own, he’d probably need to pick up a few groceries. Like Lucas, Riley liked to cook nearly as much as he liked to eat. He would not be satisfied with a frozen pot pie for his holiday dinner.
Lucas’ heart sank. Or maybe Rileywasn’tplanning on spending Christmas on his own. Maybe he was planning to fly back to Los Angeles for the holidays? Maybe he was at Hailey right now, trying to wrangle a last-minute flight?
It would take some doing, but Riley was the guy to get it done, if he thought it needed doing.
This unhappy thought had Lucas climbing out of his vehicle for a second time and once more jogging up the slick stairs.
Hell. As he’d feared, the landing outside Riley’s apartment was empty. The small welcome mat with the faded Sun Valley Lodge logo was still there, dusted with a light crust of snow, butthe usual lineup of boots and battered trail runners was gone. Lucas paused, the wind kicking sharp against his coat collar, the scent of pine and woodsmoke crisp in the air. Someone had strung a string of icicle lights along the balcony railing, and he could hear muffled laughter from a unit down the way, a door opening and closing. Normal sounds. Just nottheirnormal.
Maybe—
No. Riley always left his snow boots outside.
Unless he was not planning to be back for a while.
For a moment Lucas stood there biting his lip, thinking, before turning and trudging slowly back down the stairs. He climbed into his vehicle, huddling into his parka. The chill he felt went all the way to the bone, and had nothing to do with the weather outside.
“You really blew it this time, asshole,” he muttered.
Even so, he struggled with the idea that Riley would just give up on, well,them.
He knew Riley loved him. Not unconditionally. In the end he’d definitely had a couple of conditions. But more than anyone else had ever loved him.
And Riley’s conditions had been pretty reasonable. People who had loved Lucas a lot less had asked for a hell of a lot more than Riley ever had.
The minutes ticked past, and green-blue twilight turned to night.
There was a draft inside the cab, a chilly little whisper telling Lucas he was wasting his time, that he was waiting for something that had already left him behind. He was increasingly cold and uncomfortable, but did not turn on the heater. If Riley had been able to stay sane trapped in the dark and freezing silence of the National Forest for hours—with a dead man beside him—Lucas could stand ninety minutes in his SUV.
Rarely did he let himself dwell on what Riley had been through, but somehow this evening it was hard not to imagine… The increasingly desperate attempts to free himself. The sick realization that there was nothing left to do but wait. The pain of that bitter cold seeping into his bones as the hours slipped past with agonizing slowness, the fear as feet and hands began to go numb, the fear of sliding into a sleep there was no waking from. Surrounded all the time by the weird not-quite-silence of creaking pines, sifting snow, the ticking over of the wrecked engine.
The growing knowledge that help might not come in time.
Loneliness like no other.
No wonder Riley needed to believe there was something, someoneon the other side of that darkness to turn to, to rely on, to trust in. No wonder he had reached a breaking point. And how had Lucas reacted? With frustration and impatience at the lack of consideration in expecting him to take a few days off every year.
Jesus Christ.
“You did this to yourself,” he muttered to the shadowy eyes watching him from his rearview mirror.
He remembered when Riley had been released from the med center. Driving Riley back to the chalet, helping him upstairs, helping him undress, getting him settled in the nest of blankets and pillows and quilts. Riley, still pale, still shadowed, still dealing with everything he’d been through, had looked up at him and said reassuringly, kindly—to whatever he saw in Lucas’ face, “I’m okay, Luc. You should get back to the office.”
And Lucas, overwhelmed with emotion and a hunger that had nothing to do with lust and everything to do with wanting, needing to be as close to Riley for as long as possible, had said roughly, “Can I stay for a while?”
“Yeah, of course.”
