Page 61 of Hounded: Ashes to Ashes

“Why did you leave me?”

Oh.

Fuck.

How long had I been gone?

I didn’t dare check my phone or reach for my pockets and draw his attention there. Ultimately, it didn’t matter. I’d been away long enough for him to wake and panic, and that was damning enough.

Sliding backward, I put a few inches between us so I could meet his gaze.

Loren wasn’t a crier. He wasn’t much for emotions in general, more prone to resting hound dog face complete with sad, droopy eyes and a perpetual frown. It startled me to see him anything but level, and I couldn’t bring myself to lie.

Instead, I gawked at him and tried not to smile about how fucking pretty he was, or giggle about the way it made my head swim having to look so far up to see him. The man had legs for days and days and days…

“I couldn’t call you,” he sputtered. “I don’t have my phone. Or my truck…” His head shook, causing black-brown locks to swish across his shoulders.

His hair was pretty, too. Like ribbons. Shiny satin.

I freed my arm from where he had it pinned against my side and stroked over the tips of his hair. Soft boy with his soft hair and his soft lips and maybe he would feel better if I kissed him?

“I can’t smell you anymore,” he said with a wince. “I couldn’t find you.”

I got both hands free and cupped them to either side of his face. To steady him. To steady myself because the trailer park was twirling.

His eyes met mine, shimmery wet and sparkling. Like the sky. Like the stars.

So pretty.

I tried to pull him to me for a kiss but, rather than bend in, he pushed me off.

“Indy, wherewereyou?” The question was chased by a whine. A decidedly canine noise.

My mouth fell open then shut before I babbled, “I went across town. Just for a minute?—”

“Where?” he repeated.

My thoughts were alphabet soup. Letters that refused to form words. I was the quiet one for once, and Loren filled the void.

“It’s the middle of the night,” he said. “Nothing’s open except…”

The drugstore, I almost yapped, and damn if that wasn’t on the nose. I’d gone to the drugstore, all right. The one inside Chaz’s stupid leather vest.

“You got drugs.” Loren sounded flat, and I would have sworn I heard something inside him crack.

“A few,” I said despite knowing damn well that wasn’t the point.

His lack of worry might have been a relief, but this was a lack of everything. No fear, no sorrow, no anger. He shifted backward so we were no longer touching, and his face went slack.

My high collided with his low. It often happened that way. We were opposites, yin and yang, mania and depression walking hand in hand. I tried sometimes to pull him up with me, away from the darkness he had inside. I wanted to believe I saved him, the way he claimed, but as I watched his revelation wash over him like rolling waves, I felt more like the undertow.

Loren nodded, and his hair fell forward around his face. “Okay,” he replied.

“Okay?”

Another nod. Then nothing.

He was still pretty, but the sparkles were gone. And while I was far from sober, he was somber enough for both of us.

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