Okay, Abel might. Abel was the type of friend who had to help right now, right here, his way. A slight smile tugged at the corners of Gray’s mouth at the thought. Abel had been the sole reason Gray had wanted to study psychology in college. To understand better, to grasp the fact that different people required different languages and approaches. And due to Abel’s bipolar diagnosis and his anxiety, Gray had found his thing. He wanted to help people. Children, specifically.
Was that dream still there?
Was everything gone?
Gray blew out a breath.
The radio wasn’t fucking helping.He crossed a bridge and drove into Philadelphia around three in the afternoon, and the first thing he did when he arrived downtown was regret his choice of vehicle. The black truck had gleamed and appeared so badass in the South, like it belonged, but now it stuck out in a gray sea of sedans.
Back home, there were trucks everywhere. He’d never had his own, but since his big brother Gage lived in Seattle and didn’t want his truck there, Gray borrowed it.
This wasn’t their sleepy town in Washington, though.
After navigating his way between skyscrapers and the city folk, he found the address he’d put into his GPS. It was right there on the corner of a busy intersection, and someone stepped out to set up a chalkboard easel with today’s specials and the announcement of a performer playing at nine.
Gray squinted in every direction and quickly gave up hope of finding parking. But he’d spotted a sign for a parking garage a couple blocks back, so he turned left to go back from where he’d come.
Twenty minutes later, he emerged from the garage on foot, and he zipped up his jacket and disappeared into the crowd on the sidewalk. The weather fucking sucked. Rain and sleet combined with wet, icy winds blew past him and turned his cheeks rosy from the cold.
He hoped he wouldn’t have to wait several days for this Kellan Ford guy to show up.
Opening the door to the Irish pub, Gray was instantly met by the smell of food and cigarette smoke. Wasn’t it illegal to smoke indoors?
The place was pretty empty, aside from two men who sat and ate in one of the booths. On the other side of the bar, booths had been replaced by tables and a small stage.
A British singer songwriter’s tune played on the stereo. Gray picked up the lyrics as he eyed the man behind the bar. Words of being gone in the morning flitted past. A masculine, melodic voice sang of being chosen for a life on the road. Seemed fitting at the moment.
Gray didn’t allow his nerves to flare up. He didn’t think. He approached the bar. Step by measured step—there was no going back. He was gonna find this kid, end of.
The stocky man looked up from the register and jerked his chin.
Gray cleared his throat. “Are you Mick?”
The man inclined his head. “The very one. We’re not hiring.”
Gray shook his head minutely. “I’m looking for Kellan Ford and was told to ask you.” In his periphery, he caught one of the guys in the booth looking over. Did he know the name? Did he know Kellan Ford, maybe?
Mick straightened and raised a brow. “You got a message, lad?”
“Right.” Gray refocused on him. “I’m a friend of Dominic Cleary, and I need to talk to Kellan.”
“Oi.” The guy who’d looked over nodded at Mick, as if to say it was okay, and then he met Gray’s stare. “I’m Kellan.”
Oh. Oh shit. For some reason, he had expected someone older. This guy didn’t look to be much older than Gray. His arms were tatted up, his hair was dark and cropped short, and he reminded Gray of a soccer hooligan from England. Complete with the gingham button-down and suspenders.
The fact that Kellan already happened to be here fucked with Gray’s head. He’d thought he would have some time to prepare. At the same time, the dude didn’t strike him as very dangerous.
No time to waste.
He walked over, and Kellan exchanged some quiet words with his companion, who grabbed his plate and walked off.
Kellan leaned back in his seat and wiped his mouth with a napkin. “Dominic Cleary, huh? Been a while since I heard his name.” He gestured for Gray to take a seat. “What’s he up to these days?”
“He works with kids,” was a vague enough answer, Gray figured.
Kellan hummed and returned to tucking into his food. It was some sort of stew. “Did he make it to Seattle?”
“Yeah.” Gray didn’t know how close they’d been, and he didn’t want to divulge anything that wasn’t his to share. “He’s doing well.”
“But you’re not.” He smirked faintly and dragged a piece of bread through the sauce. “I don’t know how many times I tried to get him to work for me, but he kept his distance.” He paused and chewed on the bread. “He wouldn’t tell you to come to me if there were any other options.”