It's Complicated: A Reservations Story

He should have spent the night at Julian’s place and gotten an early start home in the morning. Should’ve, could’ve, would’ve. The story of his life.

Beckett split his attention between his phone and the road, using one hand to google nearby accommodations. He blinked, confused, as Marc’s name covered his search on the screen. His fucked-up head stared at the bubble as if it were a mirage until the ringtone followed. Beckett’s brow wrinkled, and he stepped overly hard on the already pressed brakes as he pushed the green accept button, bringing the phone to his ear.

“What’s up?”

“Something’s happened. Julian’s asked me to call you.” Marc’s tone sounded hard and clipped, but the words confused him.

Beckett’s gaze riveted on the unmoving speedometer. Why hadn’t Julian called himself? “Where is he?”

“He’s on the phone with the front desk,” Marc explained. He lowered his voice as if to keep his words private as he continued. “Beck, he’s alone. I don’t know where his date is, but he never showed. Julian seemed fine with that. He went downstairs on his own and spent much of the evening on the periphery of the guests. He never fully engaged with anyone…” Marc paused, but the puffs of breath let Beckett know Marc’s mouth remained close to the phone.

Just above a whisper, Marc said, “You know, he has that way of looking at someone like he knows they’re full of bullshit. He had that look all night. He and I made eye contact. He seemed fine then suddenly paled and wobbled on his feet. His champagne glass fell from his hand. I darted toward him, and he started toward me, asking for you. I don’t know what happened, but his sole focus is for me to find you while he gets us a new room. He doesn’t want me to leave his sight.”

Beckett kept his foot rammed down on the brake pedal as his mind raced. “Can I talk to him?”

“Yeah, but whatever’s happened is more than he can deal with. He’s edgy. Frantic. Hanging on by a thread. Be careful,” Marc whispered.

“Okay. Let me talk to him.” Beckett’s gaze shifted back and forth, from the dashboard to the center console, lost in the possibility of what could have upset Julian. He must have remembered something significant about his abduction. That was the only thing that made sense.

“Julian.” Marc’s voice still carried a soothing quality as he addressed Julian. “Beck’s on the phone.”

“They have a room for us. It’s small, but they’ll meet us on the third floor,” Beckett heard Julian say. Julian’s tone was all wrong. He spoke briskly and succinctly, not with his usual casual flippancy that he had mastered so well. “I need to pack. It won’t take a minute.”

Beckett’s worry elevated. He took a deep, settling breath, trying to stay calm as he tucked his chin to his chest and waited for Julian to speak to him. It seemed like forever until he heard the sound of Julian’s voice over the line.

“Beckett, it happened. I saw him.”

Beckett’s eyes lifted to the open highway in front of him. The honks coming from other vehicles finally penetrated his focus. He looked in the rearview mirror as cars navigated around his stopped truck. He flipped on his blinker and slowly edged his way over to the right lane and navigated to the closest exit.

“Who did you see and where did you see him?”

“Micah. In a memory. It’s all back. At least the part I was conscious for.” Julian sounded scattered and scared. Beckett could hear the background noise of Julian moving quickly, probably packing. “Can you come?”

“Yeah. I’m not too far away. I’ll turn around now,” Beckett said, finally getting into the exit lane. “Why are you getting a new room?”

“I can’t do this. I just…can’t.”

What did that mean? He swallowed all his questions, no matter how the pounding of his heart demanded an answer. Julian seemed too close to the edge, but he was doing everything Beckett had taught him—stay close to Marc, find a safe place, then call him. Julian was clearly doing everything possible to hang on to his sanity. Beckett just needed to get to him, now. He’d figure the rest out later.

“That’s fine,” Beckett said, racing to take the curve back onto the interstate, heading toward LA. “You don’t have to do anything you don’t want to do. Just stay close to Marc until I can get there. Hear me?”

“Oh yeah. I’m not letting him out of my sight,” Julian said, and a second later Marc was back on the phone.

“I don’t know if you can tell, but he’s moving fast to pack,” Marc explained. “We’ll be heading downstairs in the next few minutes.”

“Stay with him.” Beckett gunned the engine. “And text me the hotel’s information. I’ll be there as soon as I can.”