Page 67 of Undone

Henry gave Dorian one last look, then turned sharply on his heel. “Have a good night,” he called over his shoulder, his tone clipped but not unkind.

“You too, Officer Reynolds.”

Reynolds?

We waited until his footsteps faded completely, the silence wrapping around us once more.

“Well,” Dorian said finally, glancing back at me, a faint smirk tugging at his lips.

“Wait… was that…” I started.

“Chris’s brother?” Dorian turned back to face me. “Yeah. Good guy. Feels awful about everything. He’s been friends with Trent for a while, but we get along too.”

I swallowed, processing how his brother was the one responsible for Trent being shot and taking Dotty months ago. “I hope he’s doing okay… considering.”

It couldn’t be easy finding out your brother was responsible for something that horrific, then losing him in the process.

“Yeah, from what Trent said, he’s holding up.” Dorian brushed a curl from my face, his fingers lingering in my hair. I couldn’t meet his eyes, suddenly self-conscious.

“What’s that look?” he asked, his brow furrowing.

“It’s just… I’ve never really liked my hair.”

“I do,” he said, tugging at a curl gently, and admiring the way it sprung back to life.

My brow furrowed. “You do?”

“Yeah,” he said, his voice lowering, sending a spark through me. “It’s part of you, and every part of you is beautiful.”

A smile tugged at the corner of my mouth. “You’re relentless.”

“With you?” He leaned closer, his smile teasing. “Absolutely.”

Before I could respond, his mouth found mine again, slow and tentative, like he was gauging where my head was at. And honestly, I wasn’t entirely sure of that myself. But I knew one thing—I wasn’t ready to stop. His tongue gently teased mine, rekindling the fire between us.

He moved back a fraction. “Come back to my place?” he murmured against my lips. “Gracie’s with my dad.”

I hesitated, still rattled by everything that had unfolded. “I don’t know… I have to let Walker out.”

My body was ready, but my mind wasn’t sure it was all lined up just yet.

“We can pick him up on the way or go to your house,” he said. “Watch a movie, have a drink. We don’t have to do anything. I’m not ready to let you go yet,” he promised, crossing his heart in an exaggerated motion.

I couldn’t help but chuckle. “One drink.”

The drive to Dorian’s house was quiet as I followed him. He’d come with me to my place to grab Walker, making sure he wouldn’t be left alone too long. Now, we were headed to his house, the evening ahead of us.

But as I drove, that stupid truck bed stared at me. The scene flashing in my mind, one that would forever be engraved in my memory. Someday I’d be ninety years old, telling my adult grandchildren about how, when I was young and wild, I once had my pussy eaten by a handsome vet on a tailgate back in the twenties. Maybe using slightly more appropriate language.

But really, the silence was welcomed.

We’d said everything that needed to be said for the moment, letting us just be. Finally.

My thoughts kept spinning, my heart doing weird flips in my chest. Kissing Dorian felt so right—and that scared me as much as it excited me.

It felt like a betrayal, though I knew it wasn’t. I moved on without closure from John, and that nagging sensation wouldn’t let go. Months later, he still found a way to cast a shadow over my decisions, making everything harder than it should’ve been.

By the time I cut the engine, Dorian was already at my door, yanking it open before I even had a chance to unbuckle my seatbelt.

---