Total pages in book: 88
Estimated words: 85167 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 426(@200wpm)___ 341(@250wpm)___ 284(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 85167 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 426(@200wpm)___ 341(@250wpm)___ 284(@300wpm)
Tam nodded then made his way downstairs. He found Jae dancing with a decent-looking black guy right in the middle of the crowded floor. Hop was harder to track down, but eventually Tam spotted him in a shadowy section sandwiched between two bears, looking like he was in his element. They hugged goodbye and Tam told him to be safe.
About a minute later, he was outside in the crisp November night. He should probably be cold, but after the stuffy heat of the club, it felt good, like washing himself clean. The walk home was slow, partly because he was wearing stiletto heels but also because he wasn’t really in a hurry to get there. As much as he wanted to hide, there were so many memories in his apartment. They hung around like ghosts ready to remind him of some random beautiful moment that he was doing his best to forget.
Love sucked. It ripped your heart out and kicked it down and crushed it to smithereens.
But if you were lucky, it could also lift you up and make you feel like you were flying, like every moment was a dream with your eyes open—like you’d never be alone.
Luck had never been something Tam had in abundance. He hadn’t been completely honest with Dr. Lee or his friends. They kept telling him that he’d get over it, that he’d move on and find someone else. But the truth was, he couldn’t see how. Driver had been it for him. There had been magic between them, the kind that didn’t happened often. They’d understood each other without words.
Driver had made Tam brave.
Nothing would ever compare to that feeling.
Chapter Thirty-Seven
Less than thirty minutes later Tam was climbing the stairs of his building, each step a grudging challenge. The cold and exercise had tempered his buzz so his head wasn’t spinning. Which was good, since he’d never liked being drunk. He preferred having more control over himself and awareness of his surroundings.
But tonight he’d kind of enjoyed the obliviousness that came with too many shots.
It kept his mind away from how supremely lonely he was.
He was trying his best to remember if he had any liquor left over from his housewarming party as he teetered down the hall toward his apartment. He was almost home. In his semi-inebriated state, he forgot to school his eyes forward and glanced to the right without thinking, only to find the door to Apartment 33 wide open.
Tam stopped.
Why was the door ajar? His thoughts were dizzy and disoriented, but only one thought kept repeating.
He came back.
Adrenaline flooded Tam’s veins, setting off a tingling sensation in his fingers and toes as his pulse kicked into high gear. The air in the hall was suddenly too warm and thick.
Driver came back?
No, not this time. It couldn’t be true. Driver had left. Wishing for something different was foolish. Allowing himself even a sliver of hope would keep him locked in this limbo instead of moving on with his life.
With the very last dregs of self-control he possessed, he calmed his racing heart and took a deep cleansing breath. Likely, someone had come to feed Mikey. Driver was gone and this time he’d stay gone.
Still, just to be sure the apartment wasn’t being robbed, Tam moved closer. His feet felt heavy and his hands shook. He curled his free hand into a fist to stop the shaking. The hall wasn’t that wide, only about four feet across, but in this moment, it seemed infinitely vast. Like one of those nightmare stretches where no matter how fast you ran the distance to your goal was ever increasing. Not that Tam was running. He inched forward, stomach in knots, because even though he told himself not to expect anything, he couldn’t help the hope that glowed through the cracks in his shields.
That hope was going to kill him.
But it had also saved him, made him stronger—gave him courage. It had given him something to reach for, something outside of himself or even dance—a happiness that was greater than any one thing or one person.
So no matter how much it stung, he let the light shine through.
In the doorway, Tam knocked softly on the frame. The apartment seemed empty, but the light was on. It looked so familiar but wrong at the same time. Something was missing. Driver’s green army bag wasn’t in the corner and his scent had disappeared. Without them, there was no soul to the place. It was empty and cold.
Tam’s fingers tightened around the shoes in his hand. Sharp edges of rhinestones and glitter dug into his skin. It was stupid to be disappointed. Silly to have hoped for something he knew to be impossible.
The sound of a toilet flushing brought his attention to the bathroom door. So, someone was there. It just wasn’t the person he’d desperately wanted to see. Feeling sick, Tam was about to turn back toward his own apartment when the bathroom door swung open. There he was, framed by light and shadow.