When You Come Back to Me (Lost Boys 2)

I nodded. “But I love you too. And I can’t go to France and spend the entire time scared something’s happening over here. I need to be able to trust you.”

“You can trust me, River. Even though it looks like I’m caught up in my own shit and get pissed at you sometimes—”

“A lot. You get pissed at me a lot.”

“Shut up, I’m trying to apologize. I see how hard you work for us. And how sad you are, though you don’t show it. I see it.”

“Thanks, Amelia,” I said, relief and the electric nervousness humming through me that in less than twenty-four hours I might be with Holden.

“When will you leave?” she asked.

“As soon as possible. Right now, actually,” I said, getting off the bed. Amelia walked me to her door.

“Do you think you’ll be gone a long time?”

“I’ll come back as fast as I can.” My stomach clenched at her dubious expression. “Unless…Maybe I shouldn’t go…”

“No, no. You should. I know you need this. We’ll be fine, swear.”

I felt torn in half. “You sure?”

She rolled her eyes. “Ugh, go. Holden’s probably waiting for you in his hotel room, lying naked on a bear skin rug with a rose in his teeth.”

I coughed a laugh. “Ummm…”

“What? You need to get laid. Straight facts. Well, maybe not straight.”

“I’m not going there to get laid, and how about we not talk about that anymore?”

She laughed, a spark in her eyes I hadn’t seen in a while. “Whatever you say.” She slugged me in the shoulder. “Go get’em, champ.”

“Dork.”

“Nerd.”

I grinned, feeling lighter than I had in a long time. An unfamiliar feeling flooded me. Hope.

After settling things with Julio to make sure the shop would be okay without me, I boarded a plane for Paris the next afternoon.

Dad had been dubious. “You’re flying to France?” he’d asked from his chair in the den that morning. “For…him?”

Inwardly, I’d flinched. Since I had no social life to speak of, my father hadn’t been forced to acknowledge my sexuality. I suspected he thought I’d been going through a phase or that it had been a turbulent time with the accident and Mom’s death.

“Yes, I’m going for him. Because I love him. I’ve never stopped loving him, Dad.”

My father had pursed his lips. “What about the shop?”

“It’s handled. I won’t be gone long.” I hugged him close. “Watch over Amelia, okay?” Be her dad for a while… “And take care of yourself.”

He’d chuckled through a perplexed frown at my seriousness. “Of course. I’ll be here when you get back.”

I looked at the den with its food wrappers, the recliner he’d turned into a bed, and the NFL Network blaring constantly.

That’s what I’m afraid of.

The plane touched down and I fumbled my way through the airport, looking like the jet-lagged American I was, to my hotel in the 8th Arrondissement. The hotel was small, dark, with no elevator and a shared bathroom down the hall. But it was all I could afford after dropping a small fortune on a last-minute flight. My room was nothing more than a bed, a tiny table and chair, and peeling green wallpaper that looked like it’d been new in 1950.

After a short na