Did I Mention I Need You? (The DIMILY Trilogy #2)

“Emily?” I keep my voice low, glancing over at Dean’s sleeping figure. “Where’s Tyler?”


“Eden, he’s really drunk,” Emily tells me without hesitation, her voice croaky and quiet, as though she’s half asleep. “Like really drunk.”

“What?”

She exhales. “Um, well, he woke me and Stephen up about half an hour ago. He was smashing bottles in the kitchen and he can barely stand.” She pauses for a while and I press my phone harder against my ear, listening to the sound of male voices somewhere else in the apartment. I can’t make out what they’re saying, but I do recognize Snake’s thick accent. “What happened between you two?” Emily asks, and she sighs across the line. I hear her moving across the room as the voices grow louder, and she raises her voice in order for me to hear her over them. “He’s been super pissed off ever since you left and now Stephen’s pretty much babysitting him in the bathroom because he can’t stop throwing up.” She draws Tyler’s phone away from her ear for a moment as she murmurs, “Bloody hell, Snake, you’re supposed to keep his head up. Here. Talk to Eden.”

There’s some fumbling as the phone is passed between them, and in the background I can hear Tyler retching in between groans. Emily continues to sigh and Snake continues to cuss. That’s when I start to feel even guiltier, even worse than I did before. I know I’m the reason. I know I caused this.

“I’m coming over,” I say, my voice no longer quiet. I reach for my bag with my free hand and begin to haul out some of my clothes.

“I don’t think that’s a good idea,” Snake says immediately, his voice so firm that I stop what I’m doing. I pause with one leg half slipped into my jeans. “He kinda hates you right now. We don’t need you over here making it worse. We’ve got it. Don’t worry.” Right after he says this, I hear Tyler throwing up. Emily sighs again, and on my side of the phone I can do nothing but run a hand through my hair, a frown upon my lips. “Fuck, man,” Snake groans, promptly hanging up the call immediately after.

For a minute or so, I stare at the brightness of my device in disbelief as I step back out of my jeans, kicking them to one side. Now I really am dripping with guilt, and if the lights were on right now I’m pretty sure I’d look pale. Grinding my teeth together, I throw my phone across the floor in a fit of rage at myself, not even caring that it makes a loud thud. Dean doesn’t even flinch, however, and as I start to break down again, I crawl back into bed next to him. I find comfort once again in his being, so I press my body against his back and reach for his hand. I play with his fingers for a while, twisting them around mine, before I squeeze his hand tight and bury my face into the back of his shoulder. In just three days’ time, I’ll be letting him go. I’ll be telling him the truth, and I can do nothing but hope that both he and Tyler will forgive me for the decisions I’ve been forced to make.





25


By the time I fall asleep, it’s almost 6AM. I don’t end up waking again until after noon, so when I do finally wake I’m slightly disorientated. My head feels heavy, the way it always does if I’ve cried too much, and Dean is no longer by my side. I prop myself up onto my elbows and glance around the room through half-closed eyes. My phone is laying face down on the floor and half my clothes are still spilling out of my backpack. I sigh. Yesterday was a mess.

The suite is silent. No voices. No TV. I can’t blame Dean for leaving. He’s in New York City—he can’t afford to waste time lounging around in the hotel. There are so many things to see and so little time. This doesn’t stop me from calling out his name, however, just to check.

I’m surprised when I get an answer back. Dean’s voice echoes through from the living area, and seconds later he pops his head around the door, smiling warmly at me as he says, “Finally.”

Rolling my eyes, I sit up further and hug the comforter to my chest. “Where are Rachael and Tiffani?”

“Rachael went out for lunch with the lizard guy.”

I arch an eyebrow. “You mean Snake?”

“Yeah, yeah, him,” Dean says. Pushing the door open further, he steps into the bedroom and closes it behind him. He’s still only wearing those navy sweats from last night and it seems like he’s been having a pretty laid-back morning. “Isn’t he like twenty-five?”