I’m the opposite of alone.
Somehow we stay like this through “Daniel” as well, even though the song makes me tear up a little bit, thinking of my brothers. I feel Lachlan’s thumb rub against my side, back and forth along my shirt, a slow, teasing motion that introduces some fire to the soft peace inside me.
Look up at him, I tell myself. Kiss him now. You may never get the chance again.
But I’m too afraid to do anything more than snuggle into him further. It’s funny how prepared I was to make my move, but now that I have this, I’ve realized how perfect it is. And to imagine kissing him, well that has turned into a scary prospect. I’m not sure I can handle it.
The song ends and “Someone Saved My Life Tonight” comes on.
Something in the air changes. Lachlan tenses, slowly, as if he is just waking up. I hear his breath deepen and he swallows hard.
Abruptly, he takes his arm away and gets to his feet, hulking over me.
“What’s wrong?” I ask him, moving back and out of his way as he steps around me and walks off down the bleachers. People raise their feet and move their bags to get out of his way, but he doesn’t even look at them, doesn’t even slow his heavy pace.
I turn and look at Bram who is sitting on the other side of me. He’s frowning, watching him go.
“What the hell was that?” I ask Bram.
He just shakes his head. “I don’t know. He has moods.”
“No shit,” I say, and I crane my neck to see if I can still see him. He’s barely visible, heading toward the gates that lead out of the VIP area. “I’ll go see.” I get to my feet.
“Oy.” Bram reaches out and grabs my arm. “Just let him be. When he gets this way with me, I just ignore it.”
Well maybe he needs someone to say something, I think to myself.
“It’ll be fine,” I say, picking up my purse and heading across the bleachers, apologizing to the people who just had to clear a path for Lachlan. I quickly walk through the crowds lining up at the bars for last call, cursing my short legs for holding me back.
I burst out of the VIP gates and into the rest of the crowd. A lot of people are already leaving the festival, trying to beat the mass exodus that will occur once Elton is done, and I’m panicking, not seeing him anywhere. It doesn’t help that it’s dark and few lights are on.
Then I spot him, near the fence, heading with the crowd out the main gates. I fumble through people until I’m out on the main road and can see him heading down it. He’s going toward the ocean side, away from where most of the crowd is heading, and I remember that he doesn’t know this area at all.
“Lachlan!” I call out, jogging after him.
He doesn’t stop, just keeps walking, shoulders raised like he’s about to go on a rampage, and my mind is racing, trying to figure out what could be wrong.
“Lachlan,” I say again, coming up behind him. “Hey.” I reach out and grab his arm. He comes to a dead stop and turns to face me, a weird raging darkness in his eyes that makes me let go.
He takes a deep breath through his nose but doesn’t say anything. The wildness in his eyes says enough. From here, the sounds of the concert are muted and deep, and only a few people are walking past in drunken, weaving lines.
“What happened?” I ask carefully.
He shakes his head and looks away, shoulders back, chest out. “Nothing.”
Feeling brave, I grab his hand and squeeze it. He stares down at it—his warm, large hand in my small, cold one—but doesn’t pull away.
He swallows thickly. “Sorry,” he eventually says, his voice like sandpaper. “I…have moments.”
“Don’t we all?” I say gently, staring up at him and wishing I could just crawl inside his brain and have a look around.
He cocks his head, lips pursed together. “Not like mine.”
I offer him a timid smile. I feel like a princess trying to calm a beast, every action made with care. “Try me.”
He seems to think that over. Finally he says, “It was the song.”
I blink at him. “Someone Saved My Life Tonight?”
He scratches at his beard and looks away. “Yeah.”
I squeeze his hand again and take a step toward him, feeling the heat of his personal space. “Did you save someone’s life?” I ask quietly.
His eyes flit to mine, shining like green glass. A soft shake of his head. “No,” he says. He gives me a sour smile. “I didn’t.”
I breathe in deeply and know better than to ask any more.
There’s movement in the bushes behind us, and Lachlan twists around to look. I look around, expecting to see some drunk person emerge. But the bushes just shake and suddenly two dogs pop out.
Both of them look skinny and mangy. One looks like a pit bull, which I admit makes me a bit scared, and the other is a scruffy mutt with long, matted hair. They look at us with frightened eyes and run off down the road and into the trees, the pit bull limping as he goes.
Lachlan looks back at me. “I have to go,” he says.
“Where?”
He nods to where the dogs had gone. “There. The one dog is hurt.” He pulls out of my grasp and starts jogging down the road.
I don’t know what to say. I watch him go and realize I have two choices—I can go back to the gang and finish the rest of the concert, even though it will probably be over by the time I get back.
Or I can go after Lachlan, who not only seems to be going through something at the moment, but just ran off after two stray dogs.
I take the more exciting option.
CHAPTER NINE
Kayla
I run after Lachlan, my boots slapping the concrete with each step. Thankfully he looks over his shoulder and spots me. He comes to a stop, frowning.
“I’m coming with you,” I tell him.
“Really?” he asks, studying me. “I’m going after them. Through there.” He points into the woods at the tall eucalyptus and pine that stick up like blackened spears into the city-lit sky.
“Then let’s go,” I tell him.
He rubs his lips together, still watching me close. Then he shrugs, his eyes lighting up. “All right.”
“All right.”
He turns and starts jogging into the woods of Golden Gate Park and I’m hot on his trail. I pull out my phone, and even though the battery is low, I turn on the flashlight so I don’t eat shit. I know it doesn’t really help Lachlan see, and from the way he’s thundering forward over leaves and brush, I don’t think he needs it. If he’s a true beast, he can see in the dark.
“I didn’t know you were such a dog lover,” I tell him, leaping over a fallen log. Then again, I don’t know a lot of things about him.
“It’s what I do,” he says over his shoulder.
“Like a hobby?” I ask, ducking under a branch.
“Like a job,” he answers.
I will my legs to lengthen their strides and try to keep up. “I thought you played rugby.”
“A man should always do more than one thing,” he says, and suddenly we’re bolting out of the bushes and onto one of the many paths that crisscross the park. He stops and looks around, eyes scanning the darkness. The only light comes from the faded night sky and my flashlight, and I try not to shine it in his face.
He exhales hard and looks at me. “I run an organization back in Edinburgh,” he explains. “I rescue dogs, pit bulls and other bully breeds, but I won’t turn down a stray, no matter the breed or the temperament.”
I’m completely taken aback by this information. “You run a charity?”
“Aye.” He nods, looking around him. “Been running it for a few years now, ever since I had the means and the money to do so.”
I can’t believe this. “Why didn’t you say anything in the interview? This totally ties into what Bram is doing.”
“Because that was about Bram. That was for his cause, not mine.” Suddenly he gestures for me to be quiet, to stay still. I hold my breath, frozen in place. There is a rustle in the distance, but I don’t dare lift my flashlight. Two pairs of eyes glint in the dark.