Chapter Five
For some people, music is just noise, pleasant sound to fill up the silence or drown out what they don’t want to hear. To me, it’s much more than that. Music can energize me, soothe me, motivate me. Make me laugh, make me cry, make me see things in a new way. It can make me think or quiet my mind.
Right then, I needed to disengage my brain for a while. Even in sleep, Dylan hadn’t been far from my thoughts. The details of my dream hadn’t stayed with me, but the overall sense of danger and loss had. I couldn’t stop wondering where she was, how she was, and what the hell was going on. There were no answers to my questions—not yet—and I needed a little quiet time in my head.
Closing my eyes, I let the music wash over me. The songs didn’t drown my worries, but they did manage to mute them. I floated on a sea of mellow rock for a while. Then the track changed again, and I recognized the song as one of DPS’s. And something clicked in my brain.
I paused my iPod and tugged the headphones down to hang around my neck. Beside me, London looked like he might be sleeping. He hadn’t gotten much rest the night before, so if he was asleep, I didn’t want to wake him. Then again, he was still holding my hand, his grip tighter than it should be if he were asleep. Either way, I needed to talk to him. He might be able to answer one of my questions. An important one.
For a moment, I debated how to get his attention. I opted for just leaning into him. With the armrest between us, all I really did was press my arm against his, but it worked. He tugged out his earbuds and looked at me, waiting to see what I wanted.
Keeping my voice low, I asked, “When you did that whole thing with Dylan’s dress. Could you tell if she was hurt?”
A slight frown creased his brow and turned down the corner of his mouth. “Can we try not to talk about this stuff in public?” he asked. “But yeah. I meant it when I said she’s okay.”
“Not hurt?”
“Not hurt.”
Tears stung my eyes, and I ducked my head to hide them. London let go of my hand then so he could tip my face back up.
“Don’t fall apart on me,” he said, looking into my eyes.
“Not making any promises,” I replied.
The moment stretched out, and it might have crossed the line into romance movie cheesiness if London’s stomach hadn’t chosen just then to rumble like a Harley rally. He looked a little embarrassed, but I just grinned.
“Yeah, me, too,” I said.
He gave me a tired smile. “So. Key lime pie for breakfast?”
I laughed. “Mmm, no. Conch fritters.”
It was London’s turn to laugh. “For breakfast?”
“It wouldn’t be the first time,” I told him. “Dylan and I...oh shit.” Memories flooded in, and I felt like the world’s most heartless bitch. The tears that had threatened earlier came back, spilling down my cheeks.
“She’s okay,” London said, brushing away my tears with the pad of his thumb. “She’s okay, and we’re going to find her.”
I shook my head. He didn’t understand, and I needed him to. Leaning in closer to him, I lowered my voice. “How much do you know about how Brian and Dylan met?”
“Everything, I think,” he said. I saw it when he figured it out, his mouth dropping open in surprise. “The cruise. You guys went to Key West.”
“Yeah. The three of us spent a day playing tourist together. His friend, Seth, had gotten hammered the night before and flaked out. We ran into Brian that morning when we were headed off the boat. He told us about Seth bailing on him, and we invited him to come with us. I think that’s when it all started.”
“That’s what Brian told me. That he fell in love with her then. There.”
The tears were back. London tried to wipe them away again, but I brushed him off, scrubbing at my face with the back of my hand.
“I kind of keep forgetting that I’m not the only one who cares about her,” I admitted. “It was just the two of us for a long time. I mean, there were guys, but they never stayed. And our other friends. But I don’t know. It was just different.”
“I think I know exactly what you mean,” he said, turning to glance up toward Brian’s seat.
“You guys are like brothers,” I said. Then, “No. You are brothers, or you see yourselves that way. It isn’t about genetics.”
London turned to look me in the eyes, like he was searching for something there. Whatever it was, he must have found it, because he nodded before snuggling back into his seat. “Yup. Brothers. It’s amazing to me how many people just don’t get that.”
“That you can be closer to a friend than to your ‘real’ family?”
“Yup.”
“I could rant for days about that,” I said. “And about all the other ideas that society tries to impose on people. But I’ll spare you.”
London grinned. “I think this is where I’m supposed to be grateful, but honestly I’d like to hear you rant. Sometime when we’re not ass deep in alligators.”
“Be careful what you wish for,” I said.
“Because I might get it? I’ll take my chances.” With that, he tucked his earbuds in again, leaned his head back, and closed his eyes.
I slipped my own headphones on again and went back to trying not to think. But now I had pleasant thoughts—daydreams—to block out as well as my worries about Dylan.
A short time later, the captain announced our approach to Key West International. The “fasten seatbelt” sign came on, and we were asked to turn off our electronic devices. I tried to focus on breathing, since I could no longer hide in the music. Landing doesn’t bother me as much as takeoff, but it’s bad enough. For some reason, I was surprised all over again when London took my hand. I guess I just expected the nice guy act to fall away and show me the same sort of selfish dirtbag I was used to dealing with. But I was beginning to suspect that the nice guy thing wasn’t an act at all.