If she noticed the sexual tension in the air, Hailey didn’t let on. “Your food should be out in two shakes, guys. Can I get you anything while you wait?”
With his eyes still fastened on Jamie, Dillon said, “Nothing for me. I have everything I need, thanks.”
Hailey grinned. “I can see that. I’ll leave you guys alone then.” She left unnoticed.
Jamie swallowed. “Dillon, I-- I’m not sure what to say.”
Dillon drew in a ragged breath and turned away a bit. “You don’t have to say it, James. I already know. I’m pushing too hard, damn it. I swear to God I’m trying not to, but being this close to you again is making me crazy.”
In a bold move that surprised them both, Jamie picked up Dillon’s hand and squeezed it. “You’re not pushing. This new you is just taking me a while to get used to.” When Dillon looked uncertain, Jamie turned his hand over and made little circles on Dillon’s palm with his fingers. He delighted in the little shudders he felt running through Dillon’s body. “Don’t get me wrong. I like it. Just give me time to adjust.”
Dillon laced his fingers through Jamie’s. “That’s all I needed to hear.” Just as he was about to say more, the food arrived, cutting off further conversation. The obvious reluctance with which Dillon released his hand made Jamie’s heart beat a little faster. Damn. If lunch with Dillon was this good, Jamie couldn’t wait for dinner.
* * *
The ride back to school was more like a walk down memory lane. Dillon couldn’t ever remember feeling closer to Jamie than he did at that moment. They talked about everything and nothing, just as they’d done so many times in the past. Two years melted away, and Dillon began hoping that, in time, all the pain he’d caused would dissolve as well.
He studied Jamie out of the corner of his eye as he drove. He followed the elegant curve of Jamie’s chin, the slight tilt of his ski jump nose. His body responded as Jamie laughed at something he’s said, the rich, gravely sound vibrating deep within him. It was bad enough that he’d had a hard-on all through lunch, but Dillon would be damned before he’d walk into the school with one. He willed himself to relax as he whipped into the parking lot.
Jamie slipped on his gloves. “I really enjoyed lunch. I still wish you’d at least let me pay for my half.”
“No way. You were my. . .” He trailed off, afraid to say the “D” word.
Jamie grinned. “All right, but I get to pay next time. I just hope you’re a cheap date.”
Did he hear him right? “Next time?”
Jamie’s glorious eyes clouded. “Well, yeah. That is, if you want to.”
Dillon lifted Jamie’s chin with one finger. “All right. You can pay next time.”
Jamie’s smile did nothing to ease the ache in Dillon’s jeans. He looked down at his watch. “We’d better go on in. We’ve got like ten minutes until the fifth period bell, and I still have to run down to my locker.”
Dillon nodded. “Can I give you a ride home this afternoon? I don’t have to be at the drugstore until four, so I’ll have plenty of time.”
This time there was no hesitation on Jamie’s part. “I’d like that. Meet you at the lockers?”
“You know it.”
Dillon was so high on thoughts of seeing Jamie after school that he barely remembered walking back into the building. Nor could he recall a single thing Mrs. Murdock, his geometry teacher, said during the fifth period class. When the bell rang, he practically raced out of the room, anxious to get the day over with and get to Jamie. He ducked into the bathroom, did his thing, and headed to class.
His last class, Government, was usually a snooze fest. Mr. Whitewood, the teacher, was a nice enough guy, but he spoke with one of those monotone voices that had the power to put anyone to sleep in a matter of seconds. Dillon walked in, expecting to find everyone in their seats and preparing for their afternoon nap. Instead, he saw chaos.
Clusters of weeping girls, whispering and dabbing at their eyes, stood huddled at various points throughout the room. He saw a group of jocks in the corner, Rooster Carmichael among them, his meaty face as red as his scrubby hair. He was laughing and saying something, but Dillon couldn’t tell what. The rest of the students were scattered into groups, chatting in corners or sitting on desks and speaking in hushed tones. He waited for Whitewood to call them to order, but after a quick visual search of the room, found no sign of the pudgy little teacher.
The door swung open and a breathless Megan rushed in, heading straight to Dillon. “Oh, thank God. I came in here a minute ago and couldn’t find you. Where have you been?”
“I stopped by the bathroom. What’s up? Why is it like a funeral home in here?”
Megan froze. “You mean you haven’t heard?”
“Heard what?” Alarm raced through his body. “Meggie, you’re scaring the hell out of me. What’s goin’ on?”
Megan put her hands to her chest, trying to catch her breath. “About ten minutes ago, Principal Morgan made an announcement over the intercom. I guess you were in the bathroom. Dillon, Ben Lewis is dead. Morgan didn’t give any details, just said that we need to keep his friends and family in our prayers because Ben had been killed.”
Friends and family? Oh, God. Jamie. Dillon said, “Megan, I’ve got to get to James. Can your remember what his last class is? I think it’s English Lit.”
“No, it’s art class, but that’s not the problem. I went down to the art room as soon as I heard what happened--you know, to check on him--but he wasn’t there.”
“What do you mean, he wasn’t there?”
“Dillon, James is gone.”
All the euphoria from lunch evaporated in the split second it took Dillon to get from the school to his car, only to be replaced by raw fear. He peeled out of the parking lot, not caring that his tires squealed or that half the school probably heard it. He had to get to Jamie. He was out there, in the cold, alone, and grieving for his best friend.
Dillon drove like a maniac, taking the most direct route to Jamie’s house. He found Jamie about a block from school, walking in what Dillon could only describe later as a trance. He pulled over and rolled down the window. “James?”
Jamie turned to look at him, his eyes glassy and dazed. “Dillon?”
“Yeah, James, it’s me.”
Jamie shook his head, as if he was trying to clear it. “You heard about Ben?”
For the second time that day, Dillon put his car in park and got out to go to Jamie, this time approaching him with a delicate care he hadn’t known he even possessed. The last thing he wanted to do was frighten him and make it worse. The blank look on Jamie’s face scared the daylights out of him, but he did his best to keep the worry from showing.
“I heard.” He took Jamie’s hand and led him, unresisting, to the car. “Let me take you home, baby. You shouldn’t be out here by yourself.” He helped Jamie into the passenger seat and buckled him in. Closing the door, he whipped out his cell phone and removed the card Brandon Nash had given him from his pocket. Home. He’d try the home number first. He just prayed to God someone was there who could help.
When Nathan Nash picked up on the second ring, Dillon wanted to weep with relief. “Hello?”
“Dr. Nash?”
“Yes?”
“Dr. Nash, it’s Dillon Carver. I need your help.”
“Dillon? What’s the matter, kiddo? Are you okay? Is Megan?” The concern in Nate’s voice was almost Dillon’s undoing, but he knew he had to stay strong for Jamie.
“Megan and I are both fine, but Jamie isn’t doing so hot. To be honest, Doc, I’m scared to death here.”
“Jamie? You mean James Walker?” The light must have dawned, because Nate said. “Oh my God. He was dating Ben Lewis, wasn’t he? Then he knows?”
“About Ben’s death? Yes, sir. They weren’t dating, but they were close. And the whole school knows. Principal Morgan announced it right before sixth period.”
Nate swore. “Brandon is gonna have kittens over that one. How did Morgan find out, anyway? Brandon’s still out at the scene, and I know for a fact he hasn’t made a press release.”
“I don’t know. I missed the announcement, but, according to Megan, he didn’t give any details. Morgan just basically said, ‘Ben’s dead,’ and that was it.”
Nate swore again, this time using a more colorful word that seemed out of place coming from the staid doctor. “What’s done is done, but I feel damn sorry for Morgan when Bran finds out.” He blew out a deep breath. “So, what’s going on with James?”
Dillon looked towards the car, where Jamie was sitting, stock still in the same position Dillon had left him in. “I’m not sure, Doc. I found him on Harp Street, about a block from school. His eyes are glassy, and he seems really confused. It’s almost like he’s not even in there.”
“It sounds like he’s in shock. Where are you now?”
“Still on Harp Street. I called you as soon as I got him in the car. I was gonna take him on home, but I wasn’t sure if he needed to go to the hospital or not.”
“Usually, if the shock is fairly mild, the patient does better in his own home. Where does Jamie live?”
“2238 Lambert Lane. He lives with his aunt. She’s probably not home, though. She usually keeps busy during the day.” A thought occurred to him. “Should I try to get in touch with her?”
Nate said, “Go ahead and get him home. I’ll meet you there, and then I’ll call her myself after I’ve checked him over. That way I can explain what’s going on, hopefully without scaring her to death.”
“Okay, Doc. I’m headed there, now. And Doc? Thanks.”
“I’m glad to help, Dillon. You go take care of James, and I’ll see you in a few.”
Dillon disconnected and returned to the car. Even when Dillon got in and closed the door behind him, Jamie didn’t stir. With one eye on Jamie and the other on the road, Dillon drove the rest of the way to Sadie’s house.
He pulled into the driveway and turned to Jamie. “James? We’re at your house. Do you have your keys?”
With the same blank stare on his face, Jamie reached into his pocket and handed over the keys, but made no move to get out of the car. Dillon ended up having to lead him into the house.
Once inside, Dillon said, “Come on. Let’s get you upstairs and into bed.” Jamie just stood there, not saying a word. Dillon got behind him, and, putting his hands on the slight curve at Jamie’s hip, guided him up the stairs
Jamie’s room was located on the far side of the upstairs hall. Unlike the rest of the house with its Victorian wallpaper and heavy furnishings, Jamie’s room was pure Jamie. The walls were painted a deep burgundy, and the drapes and coverings for the queen-size cherry bed were a warm shade of green. The rest of the furniture, which included a dresser, a table, a couple of chairs, and a computer desk, were finished in the same cherry tones as the bed. But instead of the posters and pin-ups most teenage boys had scattered across the walls, Jamie’s room was decorated with magnificent architectural sketches he’d drawn himself and Aunt Sadie had framed. He was gonna make a heck of an architect one of these days. Dillon only hoped Jamie would allow him to be there to share in his success.
Dillon moved Jamie to the edge of his bed. “James? I’m gonna undress you now so that you’ll be more comfortable, okay?”
When Jamie didn’t say anything, Dillon took the silence as agreement and grabbed Jamie’s long-sleeved t-shirt, pulling it over his head. It wasn’t until Dillon started removing the t-shirt he wore underneath that Jamie started whimpering.
“James?”
Jamie’s voice was ragged, laced with upset, “Please, don’t. I can’t . . . I don’t--”
“Shh.” Dillon rubbed his hands up and down Jamie’s arms. “It’s nothing like that, I swear. I just want to make you comfortable so you can rest until Dr. Nash gets here.”
Something in Dillon’s voice must have reassured him, because he allowed Dillon to strip him down to his boxers without further protest. The sight of Jamie’s near-naked body, well-toned without being overly muscular, had Dillon fighting a losing battle with his rapidly hardening penis. He willed it to go down, mentally cursing at it, calling it names. Damn. That was the last thing Jamie needed to see.
Thankfully, Jamie wasn’t paying attention, and Dillon was able to get him under the covers without incident. Jamie curled up into a ball, closing his eyes and burrowing under the blankets. Dillon stared at him for a full five minutes, his heart aching for the pain Jamie must have been going through. Eventually he left, pulling the door to and going downstairs to wait for Nate.
He didn’t have to wait long. He’d just reached the front hall downstairs when he heard the doorbell. Without even checking to see who it was, he turned the knob, letting Nate in with a weary sigh.
“Dr. Nash, you have no idea how glad I am to see you.”
Nate placed his medical bag on the floor and closed the door behind him. “How many times do I have to tell you, Dillon? My name is Nathan or Nate. No more of this Dr. Nash stuff.” Then he did something that surprised the heck out of Dillon. He wrapped both arms around him and pulled him into a crushing hug.
What surprised Dillon even more was how good it felt. Neither of his parents were touchy-feely folks. His mother was moderately affectionate, but his father rarely ever did more than pat him on the back, and the older he got, the less often that happened. Dillon found himself returning the hug tenfold.
“It’s gonna be okay, kid. I promise.” Pulling back, Nate said, “Where’s James now?”
“Upstairs, in his room. I thought he might rest better in bed.”
“Good thinking. Which room is his?”
“Last one at the back of the upstairs hall, to the right.”
Nate nodded. “I’m going to go up and examine him.” He reached down and picked up his bag. “Why don’t you see if you can find a phone number for his aunt while I check him over?”
“I will.” Phone number? Shit. He smacked his forehead. “I’ve got to call my boss. He’s gonna wonder where I am.”
“Go ahead. I’ll come back downstairs as soon I’m done.”
Dillon waited until Nate was on his way upstairs and then pulled his cell phone back out. Dialing the number from memory, Dillon waited for someone to pick up.
“Savings Central Drugs. How can I help you today?”
“Carl? It’s Dillon. Is the boss around?”
Dillon wasn’t surprised by Carl’s next question, considering they went to the same school, though Carl was only a sophomore. “Hey Dillon. Did you hear about Ben Lewis?”
“Yeah.”
“Oh wow. I bet it was a drug deal gone bad. Everyone knew Lewis was a user. Either that, or a suicide. Oh, or a gay love triangle. Bet James Walker found him with another guy and offed his ass.”
Dillon gritted his teeth. “Carl, could I please speak to Mr. Pembroke?”
“What? Oh, sure Dillon. Just a sec while I get him.” Dillon was stuck listening to a lame rendition of a Garth Brooks song while he waited for what seemed like an eternity. He’d just about decided to hang up and try again when Jim Pembroke picked up.
“Dillon? Carl said you needed to speak with me. Sorry it took so long, son. I was in the back taking inventory.”
“No problem, Mr. P. I was calling to tell you that I’m not gonna make it in. I know it’s short notice, and I swear I’ll make up the time.”
“Nonsense. You’re the best worker I’ve got. You’ve come in above and beyond what was asked of you. In fact, I think this is the first time you’ve ever called in to tell me you weren’t coming.” Pembroke paused. “I hate to pry, Dillon, but is everything all right?”
“I think it will be soon, sir. I just need time to get a couple of things sorted out. If that’s okay?”
The warmth in Mr. Pembroke’s voice was reassurance itself. “You just take care of business, and I’ll see you as soon as you can make it back in.”
“Thanks Mr. P. See you soon.”
After hanging up, Dillon searched around for some idea of where Sadie might be. He’d just abandoned his efforts when the front door opened and Sadie came barreling inside. She spotted Dillon immediately.
“Dillon Carver. What are you doing in my house? And whose Buick is that in the driveway?” She looked around the living room, then marched down the hall to the kitchen. Coming back into the living room proper, she said, “Where on earth is Jamie, and what in the blue blazes is going on?”
Dillon was saved from having to answer by Nate, who came back downstairs at exactly the right time. “I think maybe I can clear that up, ma’am.” Nate walked into the living room and motioned towards one of the richly upholstered sofas. “Do you mind if we sit down to discuss this, Miss Banks?”
Sadie put her hand to her chest. “Dr. Nash, what are you doing here? Oh, lord. Is it Jamie? Is he all right?”
Nate took her elbow and led her to the sofa, joining her there and gesturing for Dillon to take one of the wingback chairs. When all were seated, Nate said, “Miss Banks, James has suffered a mild shock. Dillon found him wandering out on Harp Street, dazed and confused. He picked him up and brought him here after calling me to come and check him over. I gave James a brief examination, and it’s my feeling that the shock is only temporary. I can write him a prescription for a mild sedative, if you’d like, but in all honesty, I prefer to let these things run their course, especially given the nature of the situation. If you’d like a second opinion, however, I’ll understand completely.”
Sadie shook her head. “That won’t be necessary. I know your reputation, and I feel comfortable enough to go with you on this. But, Dr. Nash--”
“Please, call me Nathan.”
“Only if you’ll call me Sadie. Now, as I was saying, I appreciate you coming and looking Jamie over, but if someone doesn’t tell me exactly why my nephew is in shock, and just what in the bloody hell is going on, I swear before the Lord Jesus Almighty I will pull out my Grandmother Bank’s cast-iron skillet and lay open every last one of your thick skulls.”
Dillon could tell that Nate was doing his best not to crack-up. “You’re absolutely right, Miss Sadie, and I’m sorry for not explaining earlier. This afternoon, Brandon got a call about a suspicious death. Since today was his day off, the call came through to the house. I’d just finished up a shift at Chicago General, so I was at home when the call came in. I can’t give you any of the details, mainly because what little I know hasn’t been released yet. Since it seems that Principal Morgan jumped the gun and made the infamous ‘announcement’ over the loud speaker at school, I think it’s safe for me to tell you that the victim was Ben Lewis.”
Sadie pressed her knuckles to her breastbone. “Ben Lewis is dead? No wonder Jamie’s in shock, Lord love him. He must have heard that idiot Morgan’s little speech.” She sighed. “Are you sure he’s going to be all right? Can I see him?”
“He was resting when I left, but of course you can see him anytime you like. As for whether or not he’ll be all right, my belief is that he’ll start to come out of it soon. If we don’t see an improvement over the next four to five hours, I recommend that we take him on into Chicago to have him examined more thoroughly than I can do here.” He stood up. “Now, if you’ll excuse me, I’m going to go call Brandon and let him know where I am and what’s going on. If Jamie’s initial shock wears off the way I think it will, I’d like to have Brandon talk to him directly and explain exactly what happened.”
Sadie nodded. “That sounds reasonable to me. I’ll let him rest until the sheriff gets here. Oh, did you need to use the phone in the kitchen?”
“No, ma’am. I have my cell with me.” Nate pulled it out of his pocket. “I’ll just take my bag back out to the car and place that call.” It wasn’t until after he left that Dillon realized he was alone. With Sadie.
The minute Nate was gone, she did her version of a verbal pounce. “While I appreciate you bringing Jamie home, Dillon, given the dubious nature of your recent relationship--namely the fact that you threw my nephew away like a piece of trash two years ago--I think perhaps it’s time for you to go.”
The metallic taste of raw panic rose into Dillon’s throat. He’d just re-established a slight connection with Jamie, tenuous at best, but enough to have him hoping. He couldn’t lose it now. Clearing his throat, he said, “Miss Banks, please don’t send me away. I promise not to cause Jamie any pain, but I . . . I need to be here.”
Sadie’s hawk’s eyes narrowed on Dillon’s face. “And why is that?”