“Ever heard him called Dorian or Shaw?” The younger man asks.
“Ain’t never heard him speak, let alone called anything else.”
“Dorian?” The name is out of my mouth before I realize that I’m hanging on their every word.
The younger man smiles as he approaches my table, holding out the photo. “I’m looking for this man—Dorian Shaw. You know him?”
Suddenly I’m looking at a picture of my childhood best friend. Grown up of course, but it’s him. I grab the paper, looking closer.
He’s gorgeous. I don’t know when this was taken, but he’s standing with two other soldiers in some desert town. His cropped hair is the same dark color with caramel streaks I envy. The same forest-green eyes narrowed at the camera. “Yes. I do. I’d know those eyes anywhere.” A little laugh escapes as a memory returns. “I blackened one the first day we met.”
The man chuckles. “That’s a story I have to hear.”
“I was six and some kid on the playground was making fun of the way my grandmama spoke. I knocked his front tooth out.” It looks like there’s a scar on his cheek, but it might be the photocopy. I trace my thumb over it, a smile forming as I remember my best friend. “Dorian grabbed me from behind, trying to stop me from jumping on the kid and pounding out more teeth. Instead, I swung around and nailed him in the eye. He laughed even as his eye swelled. Two weeks later, we were inseparable.” It would have been sooner, but I was grounded for fighting.
The man snorts. “Sounds like true love.”
My cheeks heat. I’ve often wondered what our lives would be like if he hadn’t been taken away, and I hadn’t moved to Denver.
Before I can reply, the café door opens and ahugeman stomps in, coming straight for us. He’s at least four inches taller than the man next to me with even broader shoulders.
And dark hair with caramel streaks. It’s tied back, showing the scruff on his jaw and the scar on his cheek.
Forest-green eyes meet mine.
Dorian.
I must have said his name out loud because he shifts his gaze from the man to me.
I see a flicker of warmth there, of recognition, and it’s all I need. My chair hits the floor as I jump up and run to him.
There’s no thought, no plan. I can’t even name all the emotions fluttering inside me. I just need him.
I slam against his chest, wrapping my arms around his waist.
And for the first time in over twenty years, I feel…whole.
He smells like pine trees and snow. Like the forest after a winter storm. His arms come up to tuck me close, making me feel tiny.
I love that. I never really thought about size-differences much, but standing in the circle of his arms, it makes me feel safe. Protected.
I pull back to study his face. He’s ridiculously hot all grown up. The scar on his cheek only adds to my attraction. It says he’s survived what life threw at him, which brought him to me.
He’s here.
I don’t know how or why, and I don’t care. We’ll have time to relearn each other.
I lost Dorian once. I’m not letting him go again without a fight—even if I have to give someone else a black eye.
The day he left, I was devastated. It felt like my heart had been ripped out. No one would tell me what happened or where he’d gone. Like it was some big secret. I went to the library two days later and read every newspaper I could find until I discovered the truth.
Dorian didn’t have a choice about leaving Hollow Peak. And a year later, neither did I. But somehow, we found our way back. To each other.
“I missed you,” I whisper against his chest, suddenly aware of everyone staring at us. It’s uncomfortable, but I can’t let him go. He might disappear.
He cups my cheek in his warm palm, searching my face. “Lisette.”
The deep rumble of my name on his lips sends a shiver of awareness through me. My heart thumps harder against my chest as the air shifts between us, changing the feelings of childhood into something else.
