Page 51 of Scout
We don’t talk much on the ride home. Just silence—heavy and unfinished. We sit in it, both of us trying to make the math work in our heads. Hoping that if we think hard enough, we’ll find a version of the story where he didn’t leave because of us.
But we know better.
Back at my place, we both try him again. Voicemail. Again and again. Still nothing.
Xavier throws his phone onto the couch with a curse. “He’s ignoring us.”
“I don’t get it,” I say, sitting on the edge of the coffee table, elbows on my knees. “Everything was fine. We were happy. We were…” I trail off.
“Real,” Xavier finishes quietly.
We let a beat pass. Then we both stand.
“Let’s go to his place,” I say. “I need to see him. I need to know he’s okay.”
We get there around eleven. The doorman stops us before we even reach the elevator.
“Sorry, gentlemen. I can’t let you up.”
“Please,” I say, stepping forward. “We just want to make sure our… that Scout is okay. He hasn’t answered our calls.”
Xavier pulls out his wallet and slides two crisp hundreds onto the desk.
“He’s home,” the guy says. “I saw him come in earlier.” The doorman glances around and sighs. “He’s safe. Looked... tired. Didn’t say much. But he’s definitely home.”
We thank him and walk back out, but it doesn’t feel like a victory. It feels like a loss.
Back at my place, we collapse into silence again. Phones on the coffee table. Nothing changes. No texts. No calls.
“I’ll try to book him,” Xavier says suddenly, reaching for his phone. “Maybe if it’s work…”
He calls. Uses a different name. Makes it almost all the way through the fake setup. But the moment he gives the credit card number, the line goes dead.
He stares at his screen. “They blocked us.”
I open my banking app. We still owed Scout the second half of what we promised him for the weekend. I send it. A thank you. A sorry. A reach-out.
It bounces back in less than two minutes.
Along with a message:
Scout: This weekend was on the house. Glad you two realized you’re in love.
I don’t breathe for a full ten seconds. My heart sinks, curling inward like it’s trying to disappear.
“He heard us,” I whisper.
Xavier looks up.
“On the deck,” I say. “He was supposed to be in the shower. But he heard us. He heard us say we love each other.”
Xavier sits down slowly, his face blank, stunned.
“But that didn’t mean there wasn’t room for him,” he whispers. “Just because I love you doesn’t mean I wasn’t falling for him too.” He presses his palms to his face.
“We let him walk away thinking he was just temporary.” I blow out a breath.
No answer. Just quiet. But I feel it. The ache of it. Scout didn’t just leave. We lost him.
