The room suddenly seemed claustrophobic, almost daunting in its somber tones. He hadn’t been in here for more than changing clothes and a few furtive hours of sleep after a night in Dylan’s bed in weeks. He caught sight of the picture on the far wall of him and Neal on their wedding day.
Neal. Neal was why he couldn’t give Dylan false hope. He thought of the SEALs injured in the crash, lying in ICU, him still not sure whether he’d be delivering bad news to the waiting families. Luciana Lopez was now on bedrest in the maternity ward, and it tore Apollo apart that he couldn’t guarantee her husband would be at her side when the baby came. So, so much bad news in this world. He couldn’t open himself up to more of it, couldn’t risk that for Dylan.
*
“Come in, come in. I’m just about to take the bread out of the oven.” Maddox greeted Dylan with a smile, opening the door to the Coronado apartment he shared with Ben. The complex had a French name but terracotta Spanish styling and was far homier than Dylan would have picked for the two of them. Adding to the surrealness of this whole damn day, Maddox was wearing an apron and with matching quilted oven mitts. It wasn’t a frilly apron or anything—simply a brown apron with some sort of woodland creature on it, a bear or otter maybe. Nonetheless, it was still disconcerting to see a guy who Dylan knew was nothing short of a deadly marksman playing Betty Crocker and ushering him into a tastefully decorated apartment.
An oven timer buzzed and Maddox motioned for Dylan to follow him to the galley kitchen around the corner from the entry hall. “I’ll give you the first piece. It’s rye, which not everyone likes, but it goes great with my spinach dip.”
“Thanks.” Dylan fell back on his manners. He hadn’t thought he’d ever be hungry again, but the place did smell amazing—warm and yeasty with overtones of butter. He’d been driving around aimlessly, on the verge of texting Allie when his phone had chimed. Stupid him, his heart had leaped thinking it might be Apollo with an apology. Ha.
Instead, it had been Ben texting to see if he wanted to come over and play video games. Which was a bit bizarre since they hadn’t really hung out like that before, but what the hell, Dylan’s day was already a crock of shit, and he didn’t really want to be alone. Alone was bad. Alone meant replaying the scene with Apollo over and over until he’d almost bent his steering wheel in half with the force of his grip. Sure, it had been his idea to leave, but that didn’t mean he was happy about that outcome. And God, Apollo’s strident voice and angry face kept echoing in his head. So yeah, he’d been grateful for Ben’s offer.
Especially since he’d gotten a text from Apollo right as he’d pulled into a visitor parking space at the complex, wanting to know if he was safe. Safe? What the hell was up with that? No, no he was not safe. His chest felt cracked open, heart fragile and exposed, one wrong move away from stopping forever. He was wounded and aimless and so far from safe it was laughable. But he wasn’t telling Apollo any of that. He’d sent a terse reply. Let Apollo assume he was running to Ben and Maddox to tattle, even though he had no such intention of spilling his guts.
“I said, bread?” Maddox held out a slice with melting butter on it. His kind eyes were patient, but he’d clearly had to repeat the question a few times to bring Dylan out of his fog.
“Sure.” Dylan took a small bite. His nose said the bread must be heavenly, but it felt like charcoal dust in his mouth, and he had to struggle to swallow.
A laugh came from the other room, and Dylan peeked his head around the kitchen wall to check out the living and dining room, which was a good size open space with a fireplace and sliding glass doors to a covered patio. Ben was sitting on the couch with some guy Dylan had never met before. The guy was the one who had laughed, dark eyes crinkling and full mouth curving into a smirk. Ben meanwhile looked like he was sitting on a stack of tumbleweeds, frowning and shifting about.
“Who’s the guy?” Dylan asked, trying again with the bread. His body was going to need to start working again at some point, right?
Maddox looked up from arranging slices of bread on platter shaped like a leaf. He dropped his voice. “Him? He’s why you’re here.”
“It is?” The bread turned to gravel in his stomach.
“Oh, don’t worry. Nothing nefarious.” Maddox’s words failed to reassure Dylan. “Ben picked him up last night at the Brass Rail. Guess he was looking to blow off some steam after the week we’ve all had. The crash and all, you know?”
“Yeah, I know.” Dylan didn’t mention how Apollo had come home in a temper. Seemed disloyal somehow to share that, but he knew that the long hours and little sleep and stress had to play a role in why Apollo had gone off. “But how does Ben’s hook-up involve me?”
“See, he turned out to be the one thing Ben can’t stand.”
“What’s that?”
“A nice guy. Made us breakfast and everything. But he doesn’t seem to be getting Ben’s message that he doesn’t make friends.” Maddox’s voice was resigned as he scooped spinach dip out of a plastic container.
“And how exactly do I fit into this?” No way was Dylan pretending to be Ben’s irate boyfriend or something.
“He’s a nice guy. You’re a nice guy. He’s apparently single. You’re single, right?”
Dylan’s eyes opened almost painfully wide. He was starting to get the picture, and man, what a dicey pile of onions this was. Was he single? Had he ever been not single this whole summer? Who the fuck knew. But he knew how Apollo would want him to answer, which fucking stung like a new patch of sunburn. “Yeah.”
Maddox raised an eyebrow as if he didn’t quite believe it but wasn’t going to press the point. “And this guy is around your age and seems a little lonely. I think Ben figured that—”
“He could dump him on me?” Dylan was so not liking this idea. “Why not, you know, actually try and make friends himself? Especially if this guy seems so nice?”
Maddox gave a long-suffering sigh. “Ben doesn’t do that. He’s not mean and not the type to kick the guy out without his shoes or anything, hence calling you, but Ben’s strictly a one-night kind of man.”
“I see.” Dylan put the dip container back in the fridge for Maddox, who was cutting up some carrot sticks now. “And you guys...you’re not a thing? Never?”
“Nope.” Maddox’s slow smile was definitely wistful.
“But you’d like it?” Dylan whispered. “That’s why you’re not out there claiming Mr. Nice Guy yourself, isn’t it?”
“It’s complicated.” Maddox whacked at the carrots, making Dylan fear for his fingers.
“Yeah.” Complicated couldn’t be worse than trying, but Dylan wasn’t in a place to be offering advice. He was still smarting from Apollo’s outright refusal to even try something with him. Just try. Why was that so hard for stubborn SEALs?