by Julia Kent
The pain felt good.
He ran as fast and as hard as he could, the sprint digging into his lungs, his ribs screaming in minutes, the sudden move from tension to release too much, too fast. A cramp formed in his mid-side and he shook it off, keeping the breakneck speed for one reason only:
Because he had no choice.
Seconds became minutes. Minutes became hours. Time was his enemy and his best friend, chugging by like a locomotive on a steep incline, and whipping past like an oiled-up frat boy on an alpine slide. Mike disappeared. Dissolved. Faded.
Ran.
Thousands of words competed for attention in his logical mind, while the adrenaline coursing through him screamed a single word: run. Nothing he said or did back there would fix the nightmare that just invaded his well-constructed, carefully rebuilt life. Not one damn word. Muscles, though...muscles could be worked into submission. Beaten through sheer energy expense.
And once you tapped out a body, you were left with nothing to worry about. All Mike would become was a pile of sweaty, panting cells.
That was his singular goal.
Trees and leaves and bright-green overgrowth blurred into one stream of liquid nothingness as he flew through the woods, dodging fallen trees and old logs like a parkour course, his long legs like springs, extensions of a soul that needed to be in motion. Pushing himself to the max, he began to groan with each breath, arms fueling his journey, his body unaware of any destination.
Because he was going nowhere.
Running away from the problem wouldn’t solve a damn thing. In his more developed mind, he knew that. But that part of him wasn’t in charge right now. That part of him was miles away, sitting at his desk at the ski resort, or standing in front of a pot of tomato sauce at home, capable of rational thought and reasoned discourse.
His reptilian mind controlled him now, and it sent the same, damn message to his body:
RUN.
For eternity, just run.
Bright light ahead signaled a clearing. With a burst of extra energy, he propelled forward, chest thrust ahead, eyes steady on a spot a million miles away, the roar of his blood crashing against the walls of his ears. His legs couldn’t stop if they tried right now, and as the last cluster of branches ended, scraping against his arms, he found himself flying.
Literally.
Flying in thin air as he ran full-force over a cliff that led straight down to the ocean.
Chapter Thirteen
Dylan
“What’s going on?” his dad whispered, holding a wiggly Adam in his arms as Cyndi looked at his mom and dad, and Mike’s mom and dad, with a big, fat question in her eyes.
Pointed at him.
“Hell if I know,” Dylan mumbled, relieved to have his parents there for no articulated reason. He couldn’t explain it. Couldn’t describe why he felt a palpable sense of protectiveness from them, even though no one was threatening him.
And then it hit him.
The last time he ever saw Big Mike, he was trying to beat the shit out of Dylan’s Mike. That was more than thirteen years ago. No wonder he felt so on guard right now, tense and vigilant. Because Big Mike was a threat.
And he needed the relief of having allies.
He looked at Mike’s dad, now stooped, so much of his muscle gone to fat, but the broad planes of a body once the size of a small bear were still there. He was a shadow of what he’d been thirteen years ago, but memory has a funny way of sneaking in and replacing the present with whatever imprint it left in the past.
A deep sigh escaped him. The rush of relief.
Thirteen years ago, he’d pulled the giant man off Mike.
And he could do it again now, just as easily. He was safe. His children were safe. His dad gave him a concerned look.
“Dylan? You okay?” His dad’s chest puffed up and eyes narrowed. Maybe Dylan wasn’t the only one noticing the threat.
“Yeah. I’m okay. Just remembering.”
Paul’s eyes darted from Dylan’s face to Big Mike, then he stiffened, his expression changing to one of knowing. Shortly after the huge fight, when Mike’s parents disavowed him, Dylan had gone home with Mike and Jill and told the whole story to his parents. They’d thawed considerably, and his mom had told Mike he was always welcome in their home.
That had been the true beginning for Dylan, a start to living life on his own terms, with more of the truth spilling over into the world he’d grown up in, the one that repudiated every bit of the life he needed to live.
But it had been a start.
“Think he’s gonna cause trouble?” his dad asked, eyes on Big Mike, who was watching Jillian and laughing.
“No. Mike’s freaked, though.”
“Why would he be upset? He invited them, right?”
Laura jerked toward the conversation as his dad said that. Dylan pressed his lips together and gave his dad a look that must have said everything he couldn’t.
“Oh, shit,” his dad mumbled. “So this is a surprise?”
“This is a nightmare,” Laura whispered, her eyes filling with tears. “I thought I was doing something good. They never replied to my letter, so I assumed they weren’t coming. I never imagined this would happen, and now Mike took off and the wedding’s tomorrow and—”
“Shhhh,” Dylan said in a low voice, pulling her into his arms. He turned her away from Mike’s parents. Paul caught his eye and gave a sympathetic look, then—with great effort, Dylan knew—engage Big Mike in small talk while Dylan walked Laura into the cabin.
She fell apart in his arms.
“I swear, Dylan, I had no idea this would happen! I just thought that Mike should have one more chance with his parents, and that if they knew they had grandchildren they’d try to reconcile with him, and he could have some peace and oh, God, I’ve ruined everything.”
“Shhhh,” he said again, repeating himself because what the hell was he supposed to say? This was an epic failure, and Mike was out running nineteen miles. Hell, he’d make it to the Canadian border by midnight if he wanted to. Tracking Mike down when he went on a blind run to work out his pain was a useless task. The guy didn’t take a cell phone or wear a FitBit device.
He was just gone. Who knew when he’d come back?
“Mike’s angry. Blind-sided. And I’ll bet he feels betrayed.”
Her sobbing increased. Shit. He wasn’t good at finding the right words, especially when caught by surprise.
“But he’ll come back. He won’t fuck up the wedding. I promise.”
“How can you promise?”
“Because I’ll send out a search party if I have to.”
Her chest heaved with emotion. “You think it’ll be that bad?”
“No.” He wasn’t quite convinced, and Cyndi quirked an eyebrow at him. She’d been their nanny for years and had seen Mike run off a handful of times, normally after run-of-the-mill arguments that all adults in a family had. This was special, though. The wound in Mike was deep and clearly unhealed, the tenuous scar ripped open by his parents’ appearance.
This wedding was stressful enough without them. With them?
It must be unbearable for Mike.
“Why don’t we all go for a walk and get to know each other while Dylan and Mike and Cyndi get the kids settled?” his mom said, giving him a meaningful look over Laura’s blonde head, which was tucked into his shoulder. Mary looked at Mike, who looked to Paul—not Rose—for a cue.
Paul gave a wide, fake smile. “Sounds good to me! I’ve never been here, and I’d like to find out more about that beach.”
Mary’s face split with a smile. “We’ve never seen the ocean before! It’s a long drive from our part of the world, and we’d like that.”
She wouldn’t stop looking at Jillian, who was in Dylan’s arms now, clinging to his side.
She pointed to Mary and asked Dylan, “Who’s dat?”
Out of the mouths of babes.
“That’s Mary. Can you say hello?”
Ma
ry frowned slightly, then recovered. “I’m your—I’m Miss Mary.” A flicker of memory floated through his mind, of parts of the country where children didn’t refer to adults by first name, the convention to put a Miss or Mister first. He wondered why Mike’s parents would insist on formality—maybe one of them was southern? But he let the thought go, needing to focus on protecting Jilly.
“And this is Mr. Mike,” she added, eagerly touching Big Mike’s arm.
He gave Jillian a closed-mouth smile.
“Mike? You’re not Mike! Daddy is Mike!’ she said, as if that were the silliest thing she’d ever heard.
Laura’s entire body turned to stone in his arms.
“And Papa is Dylan,” she added.
Dylan watched as the most astonished expressions imaginable rippled across Mike and Mary’s faces. That’s right, he thought. Daddy and Papa.
Big Mike affixed a thousand-mile stare over Dylan’s mother’s shoulder and took a few steps down, off the porch, onto solid ground next to Cyndi, who crossed paths going up to herd the kids. She peeled Jillian out of Dylan’s dad’s arms and gave him a look that said, Let the parents figure this out.
Dylan felt completely helpless. Laura sniffled, then squared her shoulders, clearly forcing herself to be as composed as possible as the entire situation unraveled before them.
“Yes. We’ll get Jilly and the boys settled and—”
“Oh!” Mary’s voice was like a bubble being popped against a stray branch on a tree. “Jilly! Jillian!” Her eyes went as wide as saucers and she met Laura’s eyes. “You named your daughter Jillian? That’s the same—oh!” She started to look at Big Mike and stopped herself, the motion so fast Dylan wouldn’t have caught it if he weren’t so hyperaware right now.
“Who made you do that, dear?” Mary asked gently.
There was no malice in her tone. No accusation. No judgment or bitterness, and yet the question felt like a slap to Dylan’s core and he flushed, a red rage filling him like a balloon.
“No one. It was my idea,” Laura said, her voice loud yet shaking. A flash of insight made him wonder if Mary assumed someone made Laura name their child after his and Mike’s former lover because Mary couldn’t imagine a world where women had free will in a relationship, but his anger made the rational question slip through his fingers like a slippery fish in a river.
Big Mike’s back was to them now, his mom shooting looks between Dylan and Laura, then clasping his shoulder, as if transmitting power and support through touch.
You okay? she mouthed.
No. He shook his head slowly.
No. We’re not okay.
Rose took charge and corralled the grandparents while Cyndi and Ellie herded the three kids into the cabin. A look from Cyndi made it clear she and Ellie had it covered.
Take care of Laura, she mouthed, disappearing with the kids to the other side of the cabin, where a bedroom and bath were located.
Dylan eased Laura onto the couch, her body frozen, a strange sort of catatonia making her a silent mannequin.
“They think you guys made me name her Jillian? What the hell is wrong with those people, Dylan?”
He sighed. “Nothing’s changed.”
“They were like this before?”
“Way worse. Way, way worse. But maybe they’re on best behavior.”
“Worse.” She shuddered.
“They’re—they’re good people,” he said reluctantly.
Laura’s snort of outrage made him roll his eyes at his own attempt to rationalize.
“Why on earth are they here?” she marveled.
“Because you invited them.” He didn’t want to dig the knife in, but...
“I can’t undo it. I wish I could. I really thought I was helping him.” Defeat filled her voice. Dylan’s body filled with concrete, a deep exhaustion that was more emotional than physical. He’d just been in a car an hour ago. In bed, naked, fifteen minutes ago.
Time flew when you were having fun.
And when you were having not-so-much fun, too.
“We need to deal with what’s in front of us. We can’t go back and undo it, so now what?” he asked, pulling her to him, resting his chin on her head. “How do we move forward? The guests are arriving and we have a wedding tomorrow afternoon.”
“It’s almost become an afterthought,” she said with a choking gasp. “I’ve turned the wedding into a second-place event.”
A thought struck him. “We need to get Josie and Alex over here. Maybe even Alex’s mom.”
“Alex’s mom?”
“She’s a psychologist, right? Maybe she can help.”
“I don’t know,” Laura said, doubtful. Reluctant. Worried. “That feels like we’re really stepping over a line.”
“If Mike’s dad goes nuts tomorrow at the wedding, the line crossed will be way worse.”
“You think he would make a scene?”
Dylan went quiet. He wasn’t sure. Thirteen years had definitely aged Mike’s dad, who had been so fucking intimidating when they were college boys who were just starting to figure out their identity and shocked to discover how different they were from the rest of the world—and relieved to find each other and Jill.
Now, as men in their mid-thirties and with much more solid senses of who they were, Big Mike was just...a man. An old man who was judgmental and closed off, but he was here.
Here.
And that had to count for something.
What worried Dylan was whether that “something” was positive or negative. Woe be unto Mike’s parents if they came here to stir up shit and try to destroy the loving life they’d worked so hard to build. Dylan wasn’t above having them booted by security to keep the peace.
Even if it would shatter them all.
“I’m sorry, Dylan.” Laura looked at him with red eyes so full of regret. “I had no idea the kind of Pandora’s Box I was opening when I sent that letter. I never in a million years expected them to just come like this! Why didn’t they answer me?”
He shrugged. “Probably fear. They likely knew Mike wouldn’t want to see them. Big Mike was always very controlling when we were in college. Insisted on his way or the highway.”
“And Mike picked the highway.”
“Yeah. Farm boy in the city. His parents thought we’d all corrupted him. They tried to make him leave college. Just withdraw and come home.”
“After they learned the truth about you and Jill?”
“No. Before. As Mike pulled away from them and created his own life, they didn’t like it. Wanted him back. They’re people who really prize tradition. Devoutly religious, mid-America types. Nothing wrong with that—but they also couldn’t handle him loving the way he did.”
“It must have been a shock,” she said.
He kissed her temple, then gave her a look of incredulity. “How do you do that?”
“Do what?”
“Simultaneously take Mike’s side while trying to imagine it from his parent’s point of view.”
She swallowed, hard, and wiped her eyes with the palms of her hands. Laura wasn’t wearing makeup, and she glowed with a nervous tension that came from desperately wanting to do the right thing. The storm of emotion in her eyes pained him. Dylan felt pulled in two directions. He was accustomed to conflict between the three of them, but never like this. Most of their arguments came down to dividing time in fair ways.
This was an external force that had been unleashed for all the right reasons but in all the wrong ways. Laura had meant well. She acted out of love. If only she’d come to Dylan first before reaching out to Mike’s parents—but the past couldn’t be undone. They’d have to get through this mess the only way he knew how.
By going through it, painful minute by painful minute.
“You said his dad was violent, but I see an older, more diminished man than the one you and Mike have described,” she said calmly, clearly pulling herself together. “And we have a wedding with a few hundred people here for the festiviti
es. Alex and Josie’s wedding can’t be ruined because of my stupidity.”
“You’re not stupid.”
“I acted stupidly.”
He started to protest and stopped. She wasn’t wrong. She was just...misguided.
“I screwed up. It’s my responsibility to fix this.” The sound of children squealing with delight bubbled through the air from the general direction of the kids’ bathroom. Laura smiled.
“Glad someone’s having fun.” A heavy sorrow filled him. This was supposed to be one of the happiest days of their life. Tomorrow they’d celebrate their love, tomorrow night would be their wedding night, and the next day they would board a plane for Paris.
All the details that had been set up months ago were now in question.
Their entire world had changed with Mike’s parents’ arrival.
If Dylan felt overwhelmed, he could only imagine how Mike felt right now. He knew better than to try to find him, though dusk was beginning, and running through the strange Maine woods at night was pushing the bounds of danger, even for Mike. Hopefully, Mike found a trail and was running safely, but Dylan had his doubts. When Mike ran out of sheer stress, the result was never pretty.
He wasn’t joking about expecting Mike to run all the way to Canada.
“How long do we give him before we try to find him?” Laura asked, as if she read Dylan’s mind. “Your parents are being great, distracting Mike’s mom and dad, but there’s a point where he has to come back and talk to them.”
“No. Not really.”
“What?” Laura was aghast. “Of course he does.”
“No.” Dylan stayed calm as he answered, feeling preternaturally neutral. “Technically, he doesn’t. He can send them home and not talk to them.”
“That would be worse than if they’d never come.”
He shrugged.
“Oh, God, I wish I could take it all back.” She closed her eyes. “If Mike won’t talk to them, then I will.”
“And say what?”
“How sorry I am that I reached out to them without talking to Mike first. I’ll explain his weird behavior.”
“And then?”
