Page 67 of Depths of Destruction
"You heard what he said. He has logical explanations."
"I know you have a history—"
"That's right. We do. So stop trying to find something where there isn't anything." I push past him and follow Darien to his room.
He walks out of the bathroom, waves his phone, and angrily says, "Here you go. I left it on the counter after my shower this morning."
I put my hand on his bicep. "I'm not questioning you."
"Your boyfriend seems to be."
My stomach twists.
"What does he think I was doing?" Darien's eyes blaze with anger. It reminds me of the last time I saw him, when I told him I wouldn't move to Punta Gorda. He scowls, waiting for me to answer.
My stomach churns, not knowing how to answer him. He's hurt, I can see it, but I'm not going to throw Andre under the bus, either. He's trying to protect me and had a legitimate concern.
Darien shakes his head in disgust. "You aren't going to answer me?"
"Darien, I don't know what he thought. You were gone for a long time. We couldn't get a hold of you."
"I don't think I know who you are anymore," Darien scoffs.
"What does that mean?"
"Twenty-two years, and you think I would do something to harm you?"
"I never said anything of the sort."
"Rambo seems to think I would."
I sigh. "Darien—"
"A few days with him and I become a person who would hurt you?"
"I didn't say that."
"You didn't have to, Naomi."
I reach up to cup his face, trying to calm him. I've never had anything but respect for Darien, and he would never hurt me. I don't want a lifetime of friendship to be destroyed over this misunderstanding. "You've been my best friend for more than half my life. I trust you. Please don't doubt our friendship."
"Best friend is a good choice of words when you haven't spoken to me in over two years."
"You told me not to. I was trying to respect your wishes."
His face hardens under my hands. "I also told you not to investigate this story. You didn't listen to me. But you didn't seem to have a hard time staying away from me."
"Darien, I've missed you," I quietly admit.
"No, you haven't."
"Yes. I have," I insist, removing my hands.
"If you missed me, you would have contacted me."
"I didn't want to hurt you anymore. You asked me to stay away. But I think about you all the time."
He lowers his voice. "Tell me one thing you miss."
