I wake up dizzy and aching all over, barely slept the whole night and the reason is Dylan McKenna. He actually fired me and for a good reason but still, I can't believe it happened. The coldness of his words, the look in his eyes, like he didn't even care like I was the dirt on his shoe that he couldn't wait to get rid of.

I don't know what I'm doing. Never have. I'm adrift and aimless without a purpose but I feel like I have to try because there is something about this place–a feeling that I need to do better.

This probably isn't my smartest idea but I have to go and find Dylan and ask him to let me go back to work. The issue is that it's Saturday, it's the day off and Dylan won't be in the town office or on the site. While pulling on my trousers and the first sweatshirt I find, I decide I'll go to Dylan's house. And then what? I'm not sure but I will think on the way, I'm desperate and at this point I am not above begging on my knees to have it back.

Soon after getting ready, I'm racing past the surrounding forest, finding myself on the back roads that lead to Dylan's place. The drive winds through the tall trees, and I nearly gasp as they thin. When he drove me here to pick up his truck it was dark and I barely noticed anything from how tired I was. A blend of wood and stone, the house at the end of the dirt road is something out of an architecture magazine. It's on a smaller side but absolutely stunning and more than a little intimidating. A person living here alone must have something to hide, and knowing Dylan's mysterious personality I have no doubt that is the case. Strangely, I am not afraid of him.

I pull into a spot next to Dylan's car and immediately go to the door. Dragging in a deep breath, I hold it in my lungs for a moment before exhaling. I do it one more time for good measure before turning and pressing my finger into the doorbell, my heart in my throat while I wait. Nothing happens and I knock on the door, more urgently than I initially intended to do.

The door finally opens and...Oh. My. Fuck. Dylan is right there with that signature scowl on his pretty face. And half naked.

Just great. I can't remember what I planned to say, I can barely breathe. His chest is pale and wide, free of any ink, so much muscle in all the right areas. There's a light dusting of light hair smattered along his chest, and lower, a happy trail leading right into his low-slung sweats. My mouth waters as I take in this beautiful creature.

"Hey. Hi." That's all I say. I'm still trying to catch my breath from running to the door. And the visual.

"Noah?" His frown deepens and there is something similar to worry.

"Hey, so... Please, I know this is super weird, me coming here but I just had to tell you something, and you need to listen to me. I need five minutes of your time, it's all I ask."

"What is this about?"

"My job."

"You don't have one, I fired you."

"That's what I was going to talk to you about. I need my job back. I am so sorry for acting the way I did, I need to get a grip. I keep fucking this up, and the past keeps coming back, but I need to be better, And I will... if y-"

"Noah, you..."

I'm rambling now, I don't even make sense to myself but I just have to explain. "No, Dylan, please let me finish.."

"Now it's really not the time, can we-"

"No, no other time," I cut him off. "I want to go back to work on Monday and I want to talk about it now."

I walk in, pushing past and freeze in the middle of the open space. There, across the room, completely naked is another man, just walking out of the steamy bathroom, carelessly drying his hair with a towel. He stops suddenly when he sees me, and quickly covers his junk as soon as he realizes it's not Dylan.

"I...," I try speaking, then look at Dylan who is as shocked at this turn of events as everyone else. "You're... Ok? I'm... I guess, it's really not the time. I'll just..."

I point to the door and just run for it, managing to stumble on something. Finally, I walk out. "Fuck... What the fuck..." I grumble to no one in particular, ducking my head, getting the fuck out of here.

"Noah! Noah, wait!" Dylan is behind me, but I ignore him as I'm desperate to get to the car. "Stop, damn it."

Before I can get the car door open, Dylan wraps his hand around my bicep, and he spins me to face him, eyes flared and teeth bared.

"What?!" I shout.

We stare at each other for a moment too long, and I don't know what is happening. This is the closest we've ever been, Dylan is still gripping my arm, his hard, wide chest is still bare pressed to me. There is not even an echo that can be heard through the stillness around us. Heat seeps into my skin where he is touching me and it seems we are alone in the world.

"You'll get in the fucking car and wait for me. You're not driving off without us talking. Got it?"

I swallow and a shiver snakes up my spine as he stares at me, his fresh minty breath caressing my face–he is that close. Dylan finally lets me go, like he could read in my mind that I won't run off, confident that he managed to tame me. As he walks back into the house, I'm wondering what he is saying to that naked man.

Barely two minutes pass before Dylan comes out, dressed now. He is not happy.

"I'm driving. Move."

"Polite as always," I mumble but loud enough for Dylan to hear me. I'm done being treated like a child. I do move to the passenger seat because there are much more pressing matters to discuss than who is driving the car.

We set off and Dylan's eyes scan the quiet road in front of us, firmly gripping the steering wheel. "What you saw inside..."

"I can't believe you're gay." I interrupt him, because I just couldn't believe what I saw. I was having an unhealthy obsession about the guy since I saw him but Dylan actually not being straight is not what I expected.

"It's none of your goddamn business what I am." His tone is hostile, like he's been through this before, like he was judged for what he is. And I know a thing or two about that, living with my grandparents in that shitty town.

"I'm not going to tell." I turn around to look at him. "Is that what you're thinking?! I'm not a fucking homophobe, I'm gay too!"

I expect something, any type of reaction. All I get is silence. "You're not surprised?"

"Not with the way you've been checking me out the whole last week."

"I was not!" I hiss, feeling my cheeks heat. Dylan shoots me a look, and I sigh. "Ok, fine, I may have noticed that you have a ridiculously hot body, so what? It's not like I'm spoiled for choice in this place. Everyone is hidden behind layers and layers of clothes. And don't get me started on the rest of the guys at work, they're all mostly fifty with wives and a bunch of kids. So yeah, you're hot and you're right there, so I looked. Sue me."

I can't believe I told him he's hot. What is wrong with me, he's my boss. Was. Damn, I'm so screwed.

"Can you stop talking about this now? That's not what you came to talk about, am I right?"

Actually, I don't mind talking about his body, at all, because it is better than in my fantasies. But I also don't want to end up with broken bones when Dylan kicks me out of his car while still in motion so I decide to keep my mouth shut.

"Where are you driving?" I decide to change the subject.

"I'm dropping you off at home."

"I don't want to go home."

He takes a deep breath and grips the steering wheel harder, so much so that his knuckles turn white. "You're driving me crazy, Noah," Frustration seeps out of him and I don't think I've ever seen him lose his composure like this before. "I've never met somebody so... so..."

"Oh this is going to be good..." I muse to myself.

Dylan sighs. "Just let me drop you off at home and we'll talk."

Each mile we passed has my stomach twisting tighter. He doesn't say anything to me until we're parked outside my uncle's house. This is the moment he tells me that I crossed the line by storming into his home demanding to give me my job back. Because on top of everything I've done, that is also a very unprofessional thing to do. Because I'm clueless about how the real world works. But when the ignition is switched off, he talks in a different tone than before.

"What does the M stand for?" He points to my tattoo.

I freeze. My thumb is rubbing the soft flesh of my other hand, between my thumb and forefinger, where the tattoo is. It seems I was touching it, I didn't even notice until he pointed it out. Immediately I'm transported to the day of the funeral and the visit to the tattoo parlor to get this done.

I sigh and let my head fall heavy. "Maya." My stomach sinks and my heart squeezes. My mouth is dry and I have to swallow before speaking again. "She is my... was my best friend."

He stares and I let out a steady breath, looking at the empty road⁠, row of houses, sidewalks, anywhere but at him. My chest feels all tight and there didn't seem to be enough air in the car. Fuck. I press the button to roll down my window. I need fresh air. "Can we not talk about it?" I said. "Sorry."

"I am sorry. I didn't mean to upset you."

I scrub my hands over my face. Seconds pass, maybe minutes and I have better control of myself now. "It's okay. I'm fine."

"Noah, is everything alright? What is happening?"

"It was Maya's birthday the day before yesterday. And I forgot about it."

He makes a face, his brows frown. "So, yesterday..."

"I got stupidly drunk on my uncle's whiskey the night before. I realized that it was her birthday after I came home from work. I was so exhausted and I just fucking forgot." I don't think I can explain why that birthday was so important. It's just one of those things that meant so much for both of us.

"Did you lose her recently?"

"I... yeah, just a few weeks ago."

"That is... " Dylan says softly, his voice thick with some unnamed emotion. "I am so very sorry Noah."

A war of emotions starts up in me at his gentle tone. Warmth at him being suddenly so nice. Frustration that I had to tell him about Maya. And there is fear there, too. That if I tell my story I'll make it even worse for myself. But the words suddenly just come out.

"There was this place on the corner that we used to walk past every day. It was a family restaurant, it had these checkered pattern tablecloths on the tables and we used to see all these happy families taking their kids to celebrate their birthdays. With those ridiculous candles, like little fireworks, you know those?" I chuckle humorlessly. "It's so stupid. But we promised each other that we would go there for her twenty-first birthday and eat chocolate fudge cake, which was her favorite. She never used to have normal things like that. When I was really young my parents used to make big, ridiculous birthday parties for me, but she was always living on the streets."

"Wait, were you homeless?" He asks and then hesitantly adds. "I'm sorry, don't answer that, you don't have to explain anything."

I'd given him more information than I'd meant to, and I feel off-kilter because of it. But something about him and his quiet demeanour made me want to tell him everything. No, not everything.

"Sometimes. In the last few months." I swallow thickly. "I usually shared an apartment. And there were people I would stay with at times." I don't say how I used to pay for rent though. The lifestyle of one night stands and carefree promiscuity is behind me.

"I would have jobs and be ok for a while but... I had a drug problem." I had never talked to anyone this way in my life before, never been so open and vulnerable to a single person, except for Maya.

"Maya was going to make it. She had a good job lined up, and was supposed to move in with this amazing rich family and work for them. But then she passed away, and I had to be the one to identify the body, to organize the funeral, to..."

I take a breath and let it out slowly, willing myself not to completely break. "It's just a little too much."

He nods, listening to me intently, his eyes focused on mine with an intensity that makes me feel... safe. Like being lost is ok. A temporary situation.

Because maybe he knows how to find me?

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