TAKE ME HOME (28 page)

Soon? Kyle scrolled through the previous messages to read the entire exchange.

The first from Dickhead: I want to see you. Want to be with you. Don’t want this to be our first Christmas apart in ten years. Want us to get back together. Miss you.

No response from Evan.

Another message from Dickhead: Booked a flight to Ohio for Christmas Eve. Tell me you’ll see me, that we can talk, and I’ll come.

Another: Evan, I love you. Want us to make this work. One word from you, I’m on the plane.

Evan responded an hour ago: We need to talk. I’ll call you in a few minutes.

Then a half hour later, the last text from Dickhead: At the airport. I’ll see you soon.

Kyle tossed the phone into Evan’s bag and got off the bed. What the fuck?

Evan probably figured what they had going on would never last, that he would never stick around, and was considering taking Dickhead back before he lost him a second time.

Kyle paced the room. What a fucking idiot. Thinking Evan would ever trust him. Would ever trust he could make this work.

He wanted an explanation.

Although hadn’t he already gotten one? He’d broken Evan’s heart once, and he’d waited too long to make up for that.

He dressed, packed his bag, and sat in the chair, glaring at the glass door to their room.

He didn’t have to wait long.

Evan slid the door open, carrying a tray with wrapped deli sandwiches, bags of chips, and sodas from the lounge car. He gave a reluctant smile, then set the tray on the table. It wasn’t like Evan not to say anything. Probably didn’t want to admit he’d been rethinking his future. He’d Take Me Home

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never had trouble being honest with Kyle. Guess they’d ended up fucking up their friendship after all.

Well, he had no intention of helping Evan say the words to end this.

Evan sat and passed him a sandwich.

They ate in silence, and ten minutes later, downtown Chicago rolled into view.

“Guess it’s time to go,” Evan said. He tucked his half-eaten sandwich in the plastic wrap and set it on the tray.

“Guess it is.” Kyle wadded his empty wrapper and tossed it across the room. It landed in Evan’s open bag on the floor.

“Hey.” Evan glared at him, then stood, picked up his bag, and fished out the wrapper.

“What’s the matter with you?”

“Just want to get off this train. I’m sick of being cooped up in here.”

“Cooped up?”

“Yeah. Aren’t you sick of this small fucking space? Of looking at my face day in and day out?” God, he was being an asshole. Jealousy did not sound good on him. Too bad he couldn’t stop it, couldn’t stop the anger and disappointment and loss thundering through him. Was this how Evan had felt ten years ago when Kyle had walked out into that back alley?

No wonder he doesn’t trust you. No wonder he wants someone else.

“I knew it.” The bag in Evan’s hands fell to the floor. “I knew you’d freak out. I just didn’t imagine it’d be this soon. I thought there was some other reason for that note.” Kyle lifted his head. The scared expression in those blue eyes gave him pause. No matter what, Evan didn’t deserve the way he was speaking to him. Didn’t deserve…

Wait. “What note?”

Evan rushed forward and dropped to his knees before Kyle. He gripped Kyle’s thighs in his hands. “Please don’t do this. You’re just scared. It’ll be okay if we take this slow. You’ll see.

It’s not going to be how you think it will. It doesn’t have to change you.”

“What are you talking about? What note?”

“In your grandpa’s journal. You said it was a mistake to sleep with me.” Tears flooded Evan’s eyes. “Please, Kyle, don’t do this. Don’t leave me.” His chest tightened at the look on Evan’s face, but then the words registered. A surge of laughter poured out of him.

Evan jerked his hands away and sat back on his heels. “What’s so funny?”

“That note was about my book. About Mac.”

“Oh.”

He pulled Evan’s hands back to his thighs and covered them with his own. “So what? You thought I was lying to you in the cabin when I said I wanted us to be together?”

“No. I thought you might be scared.”

“Thanks for the faith, Ev.” He’d meant it as a joke, but anger was pushing aside the humor and relief. Seriously, he asked, “Do you trust me?”

“I thought so, but…”

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That shouldn’t have been a surprise. But it still hurt like hell. “Are you thinking about going back to him?”

Evan’s jaw dropped. “What?”

“Dickhead wants you back. You never said what you were going to do, but I’m guessing you’re still considering it. I’m guessing you think he’ll give you the future I can’t.” Evan sat there with his mouth hanging open, his eyes wide, saying nothing.

“Shocked I’m able to read you so well? Seeing the text messages on your phone didn’t hurt.” Well, it had hurt, like hell, but he was trying to make a point.

Evan’s shocked expression morphed into a half smile. “You’re jealous.” Kyle surged out of the chair and stormed past Evan to the other side of the room. “Damn straight, I am. He had you for ten years, Ev.”

“He didn’t have me. We were partners.”

“And you want that back.”

Evan’s hands were on his arms, forcing him to turn around. “No. I want that with you. But I do need to talk to him. I wanted to wait until we got back to California, but he wouldn’t take no for an answer. I tried to tell him over the phone, but he kept cutting me off. He’d already booked a flight. Once I told him I had to talk to him, he was coming no matter what else I said.”

“What do you need to talk to him about?” Kyle spoke again before Evan could answer.

“Why not go back to him? I mean, if you don’t think I can handle this, then you better take him back before you lose him too.”

“What does that mean?” Evan dropped his arms to his sides. “You think I need a guy to be happy? You think I’m weak, don’t you? That’s why you came looking for me out there in the storm. You thought I’d get lost and need you to save me. Like always.”

“What are you talking about?”

“I know what you did to that guy back in high school. I know you went after him. You thought I needed you to protect me. Well, maybe I did then, but I don’t now.”

“Fine. Next time your ass is floating in a goddamn river in the middle of a blizzard, I’ll leave you there.”

“Fine.”

They were both breathing heavily, staring at each other. Kyle couldn’t find the words to show Evan he could be trusted. Maybe that was because there was no reason for Evan to do it.

A knock sounded on the door. Neither moved at first. Another knock. Kyle gave in and opened the door. Oscar stood in the hall, the Santa hat back on his head, crooked this time and looking less jolly than before.

He said, “We’re pulling into the station, and I wanted to talk to you before you had to take off.”

“Were you able to find out more about the guy who got off the train?”

“Not really. Apparently, no one got a good look at him but the conductor, and when I asked, he refused to tell me who it was. All I know is the man who went out after you was a big guy. Older than me. He was wearing a hat, scarf, and long coat, so no one else saw much of him to describe.” What Oscar did know fit Shepfield. Even if he’d never worked in a prison in Colorado, it didn’t mean he didn’t know someone who did. Or maybe he was working for Take Me Home

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someone now, supplementing his retirement. Hadn’t he said he had a job? Working private security in LA. The kind of person a television network with a lot of cash to burn might hire to steal the journal.

Oscar held out his hand. “Sorry I couldn’t find out more.”

“That’s okay. I appreciate your help.” They shook, and Kyle added, “Thanks again for everything.”

“Sure. You boys take care now. It was a pleasure having you in my car.” His smile was less full, his posture no longer as official-looking as he gave a nod and walked away.

Perhaps Oscar was done working the rails after the train ride from hell. Kyle wanted to mention he felt bad about that to Evan, but he couldn’t say anything, couldn’t force the words from his mouth.

Would it always be like this now? Anger and unease between them?

Not if he could help it.

Evan picked up his bags and headed for the door. Kyle stood in his way. They shifted sideways at the same time, and the move forced Evan to look up.

Kyle wanted to make Evan talk to him, make him say what he was going to do, why he needed to talk with Dickhead, but his eyes held a sadness Kyle hadn’t ever seen from Evan. And when he spoke, his voice sounded like the shy, quiet kid Kyle had met in their high school English class.

“I can’t believe you think I’d go back to him after everything we’ve done. Everything I’ve said to you. I can’t believe you don’t trust me.”

“When I saw he was coming, I lost it.”

“I tried to tell him not to come. That I would see him when we got back.”

“Why were you going to see him?”

“I don’t love him anymore, and he deserves to hear that from me.” A high better than any drug he’d tried in his youth swelled through Kyle. “Because you love me?”

Evan dropped his head forward and laughed. “You are the most frustrating man.”

“I’m going to show you, Ev. I won’t hurt you again.” Was he making promises he couldn’t keep? His gut clenched at that.

“How do you know?” There was that uneasy voice again. “This is completely new for you.

How do you know you won’t get scared? Or make a mistake? I can’t be with you and then see you with someone else. That…” He shook his head. “If you think you need time before you’re ready, I want to know now.”

“I’m ready.”

Blue eyes scanned his. “I want to believe that.”

The train came to a stop at the station. The end of the line. Kyle opened his mouth to speak, then clamped it shut. If Evan didn’t trust what they’d done together, how Kyle had touched him, what he’d said, what more could he do to convince him?

He threw a tip for Oscar onto the table, hesitated, and tossed out a few more bills. He owed the guy more than he could repay with cash.

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Evan stared at the pile of bills for a moment, then turned and walked out. Kyle grabbed his bags and gave the room one last look.

For the first time in his life, he’d let himself feel something. Would it have been better if he hadn’t? Even if he had to watch Evan walk away?

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Kyle tossed his bags onto the bed in his old bedroom at his parents’ house and changed into the new blazing red, scratchy sweater his mom had knitted for him. He hated how he looked in red, but he wore whatever she made for him every year. The tradition was as old as he could remember.

He was home.

He fished out his laptop and booted it up. It had been great seeing his mom and dad, Lorrie, and the kids, but he only had an hour until they needed to get to the Christmas Eve party.

He had something to take care of before then.

He sat at the wood desk he’d used in his high school days, trying not to think about the angered, hurt words he and Evan had exchanged, where things were headed, or what Evan would do.

Once his laptop was online, he searched for what he’d been contemplating throughout the cab ride from the train station. Only so many people knew his grandfather had befriended the four bank robbers. He wanted to rule everyone out, make sure it was the network coming after the journal. That meant ruling out any family members of those four men who’d stolen the money. He keyed in the names of each man.

Numerous sites came up. All discussing the Denver Bank and Trust’s theft and the four men responsible for it. Some reporters and treasure hunters had gone to the prison during the 1950s and ’60s and had interviewed the men, though none of the robbers would reveal if they knew where the money was located. Kyle finally found a site that explained the more personal details he was after.

Of the four men, only Vern Paskowski was married. He fathered two children, a son and a daughter. Both currently reside in California where their father had spent his final days.

If the man who’d broken into the cabin hadn’t been Shepfield or someone else working for the network, could it have been Paskowski’s son? Or maybe the daughter had sent someone.

Maybe the two were working together.

Kyle searched for more information on Paskowski’s children, finally locating a name and a California telephone number for each. He dug out his phone and made two calls. Neither answered, and he left a message asking them to call back no matter what day or time, even on Christmas. He needed to ask them an important question about their father.

He tossed his phone aside and clicked a link for the son’s Facebook page. The profile picture was too young for the description Oscar had given of the man who’d gone after him and Kyle in the storm. Maybe it was an old photo.

Was he on the right track? Maybe it hadn’t been a relative of the bank robbers. It was definitely not a relative of his grandpa’s. Only Kyle knew about the journal, let alone what had happened during that year of his grandpa’s life.

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Who did that leave? A random treasure hunter?

His gut said no. It had to be someone closer to the original men. Someone who knew about the journal’s existence, since that was what everyone believed held clues to the treasure. Who knew his grandpa had kept that journal?

The women who visited their campsite? Maybe.

Who else?

Joe.

Was he still alive? Did he have any family? The journal mentioned a brother and a new baby.

Kyle searched for “Joe Morrison.” The web search indicated 98,200 results. He searched again, this time adding in “Korean War Veteran.” 26 results. Bingo. He started with the first and found he didn’t need the other twenty-five. The link provided a list of obituaries for veterans from the war. There were two Joe Morrisons. The first died in the war. The second died in 1958.

That had to be him. He had lived for only five years after the journal ended. Kyle read the text on the scanned newspaper clipping of the obituary from the San Francisco Chronicle.