Page 63 of Still Missing You

Linc raises an eyebrow. “You left the client at a bar? Which begs the question—why is the client with you on an investigation at all?”

My face heats, and I mutter, “It’s a long story.”

“My aunt said you knew him, and seeing him again rattled you.”

I shouldn’t be surprised. Helene is nothing if not observant. Her talents are wasted on the reception desk. I glare at him. “We knew each other a long time ago, but I can still be objective.”

Liar! Not only had we been fucking all week, but I stormed off, leaving him alone after an argument.

Linc holds up his hands. “Hey, I’m just saying. You look like you wrestled a bear on the walk over.”

I sigh. “I wish.”

Linc studies me for a moment, the teasing edge fading from his expression. “You okay?”

I hesitate a moment before finally admitting, “No.”

It’s the truth. This case is getting more complex by the minute, and my feelings for Dylan aren’t making anything easier.

Someone out there knows I’m a PI. Someone broke into our room. Someone killed Matthew. And the one person I want at my side through all this is currently sitting alone in a bar because I couldn’t keep my temper in check.

I pull out my phone again.

I should’ve said it differently.

“First things first,” I mutter, “I need to charge my phone and make a call.”

Because whatever happens next in this investigation, one thing is painfully clear. I’m not doing it without him.

Chapter Twenty-Three

Dylan

After Hunter walks out of the bar, I go back to our table and just sit there. My burger is cold. I pick up a fry. It bends, limp. I drop it back onto the plate.

The Four Corners keeps moving around me. People laugh. Glasses clink. Music booms from somewhere overhead, but it all feels distant, like I’m underwater and the world is happening somewhere far above the surface.

Whether I want them to or not, Hunter’s words replay in my head.

You never actually trust me.

My chest tightens. He’s right, and that’s the worst part.

Back when we were seventeen, I told myself I was protecting him. That leaving was the noble thing. That I was stepping aside so he could have the future he deserved. I couldn’t stand the idea of being the one who held him back.

I didn’t believe someone like Hunter could keep loving someone like me if things got hard.

So I made the choice for both of us.

I lean forward, elbows on the table, pressing my palms against my eyes. I should have told him, talked about what happened back then, before we started things up again now.

I screwed this up.

For a few days, I let myself believe things might be different this time. That maybe the years apart had changed us enough that we could find our way back to each other without repeating the same mistakes. But some habits just run too deep.

Hunter wants honesty. Partnership. The chance to stand beside someone he can trust to have his back.

And I don’t give him that.