Obedience Lessons

Chapter Fifteen

Andy's POV

Dylan pulled a Houdini on me. For one hour he had completely disappeared, the moment his father took the stage he was nowhere to be found. The photographers had had a field day the moment Mr. Ryman took over, handing over the cheque with the most fake smile I'd ever seen. I looked away from the stage, with only Dylan in mind, forgetting to even check how much they'd donated.

I worried immediately, losing focus of Dylan's father as I searched everywhere I could think of, getting a bit lost myself. Finally, I asked the security at the entrance who gave me blank stares as I described Dylan, as if they didn't fucking know who I was talking about the second I said his name.

"Fuck you very much," I muttered with a mocking smile, itching to punch at least one of them. I had just about factored in what it would take to clock two before dashing through the doors when I glanced behind and saw Dylan, making a beeline through a small crowd, some of whom appeared to be trying to get his attention. His eyes were glassy as he headed straight for me, as if in a trance. I very much wanted to kiss him right there, and take him up into my arms and just hold him.

Have a nice life, Andy.

The threat pounded in my ears. It felt like an icy invisible hand had reached around my throat and closed off my breathing. I was under no illusions now, the game had changed and I realised the lengths his father would go to now that I was squarely categorized as his enemy. I hated it, but I did feel scared. I couldn't quite shake the feeling that I had a target on my back now.

For Dylan, though, I put the feeling aside. I wouldn't tell him about this, it shamed me too much. And he was shaken too, with his skin looking washed out and his hair pasted to his forehead. His beautiful eyes looked like he had been crying as he came closer and tapped my wrist just lightly. "Can you drive the car," He whispered.

He really didn't feel great, but of course I wanted to drive his car. "Yeah, of course, let's just get out of here." If that sick fucker had managed to hurt Dylan even while he was on stage I was going to lose my mind and go King Kong on him.

"You were right. This was a fucking horrible idea."

He didn't speak in the car. But I placed a reassuring hand on his leg for most of the drive to his house, all while he hyperventilated with fresh tears trailing down his cheek. I'd fastened his seat belt myself, then made attempts at finding out what had happened. My voice fell on deaf ears, since he seemed to really not hear me at all.

The Porsche purred as it ate up the distance even when I tried to drive slower, it felt like energy humming in my palms through the wheel, and it was only the knowledge of having a broken up Dylan next to me that kept me sane. He'd probably forgotten to eat too. I stopped outside a diner where I usually bought burgers and fries.

"Don't leave me." His voice came hoarsely when I cut off the engine.

"I'm just going to get us something to eat," I lost my breath when I looked at him. He hardly looked like Dylan. Where was the man that feared nothing? I didn't see him now, he seemed to have lost every layer of his bravado strip by strip. Now he was raw, with absolutely nothing to protect him from all the feelings and thoughts running through him. I unlocked our seat belts and wrapped my arms around him, pulling him as close as I could.

Finally, he responded, coming willingly all the way across the island between our seats and crawling into my lap. One moment he was far away and the next he was everywhere. He clutched to me, burying his head in my neck and breathing me in.

"I told you. I'm not going anywhere." And I meant it. Ryman be damned, I wasn't going to leave. He seemed to gather strength after a while, and with a deep breath he withdrew just to look at me.