Read Online Out of Focus (Chosen Paths #2) by L. B. Simmons - Free Book Online
Authors: L. B. Simmons
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Spencer.
Together, we silently watch her face screw up with our simultaneous answer. Her uncertainty is clear about whether or not to announce the two crazy ladies hiding behind this fake-ass tree, but then she makes her decision and leaves well enough alone by hauling ass to the kitchen.
I tear my eyes away from the swinging doors and direct them at Spencer. “What do you want to do?”
She shrugs and inhales deeply before answering. “I guess just have dinner without looking at him? Maybe my mind is just superimposing Dalton’s face on Liam as payback for the last five years of useless pining?”
It’s then that my own face screws up with my response. “Highly unlikely.”
We look back to the table, and I can feel Spencer’s nerves rolling off her in repeated, anxiety-ridden waves. I’m about to make the decision for her when she finally releases her grip from my shoulders and stands on her own, resolute. “Well, I guess we just go over there and act normal. Like nothing happened.”
“Right,” I scoff, because I know Spencer. Unlike me, Spencer is very bad at pretending. No way in hell is she going to be able to act as though nothing happened. She may intend to, but the minute we get to the table, she’ll say something. It’s just her nature.
We lock gazes, and once she has composed herself, we nod then make our way back to the table. I can feel the blood draining from my face as we approach, because if Spencer’s right, if this is in fact Dalton Greer, then fuck me.
Where the hell has he been for five fucking years and what the hell is he doing here now pretending to be Liam Kelley?
I watch from the side as Spencer eyes him with caution while he stands. Then he confirms our theory with what could possibly be the best plot twist ever, when he extends his hand in her direction and asks, “Wanna take a ride?”
His voice is so unlike that of the Dalton I remember. Liam’s is raspy and gritty and low. Dalton’s was more similar to Grady’s, soothing in tone. But then I see it, the torture in his eyes when she refuses to take his hand. The look alone negates any previous doubt as to whether or not, after five long years, Dalton Greer is alive and standing in front of me. It’s the same pained expression he always wore when around Spencer.
Why now after all these years? After everything?
I know now, after news broke about Rat’s death, all about Dalton’s past. Detective Kirk Lawson explained it to Spencer in a sit-down at her house shortly after he disappeared, which she later shared with me.
Dalton was forced to take refuge in the house of Silas Kincaid, an infamous drug lord in our area. He did so in order to find protection from those who’d abused him, driving him to live a double life, so to speak. There was the Dalton of the streets, and the Dalton who aspired to be what Spencer deserved. And as I observe the look on his face as he warily gauges Spencer’s reaction, it’s so very reminiscent of the tortured nineteen-year-old who disappeared years ago without a trace.
That day, I also found out that Dalton hadn’t been the only one sucked into Silas’s world. Rat had also been pulled under, working side by side with Dalton since they were kids, both forced to prove their allegiance to Silas Kincaid. Presumably, when Rat faltered, he was shot and killed on the spot. Dalton disappeared the same night.
I take my time to examine the man standing in front of me.
While his appearance is completely opposite of that of the Dalton Greer I remember, his presence, the familiar air of intimidation that often cleared a five-foot radius around him, is still very much present.
I tighten my gaze and my mind wanders.
He had always been protective of Spencer, swearing he would never let anything hurt her, then he just left. It makes no sense.
What could possibly have driven Dalton to leave so abruptly, doing exactly what he swore he would never do, completely shattering her? And what makes him
Together, we silently watch her face screw up with our simultaneous answer. Her uncertainty is clear about whether or not to announce the two crazy ladies hiding behind this fake-ass tree, but then she makes her decision and leaves well enough alone by hauling ass to the kitchen.
I tear my eyes away from the swinging doors and direct them at Spencer. “What do you want to do?”
She shrugs and inhales deeply before answering. “I guess just have dinner without looking at him? Maybe my mind is just superimposing Dalton’s face on Liam as payback for the last five years of useless pining?”
It’s then that my own face screws up with my response. “Highly unlikely.”
We look back to the table, and I can feel Spencer’s nerves rolling off her in repeated, anxiety-ridden waves. I’m about to make the decision for her when she finally releases her grip from my shoulders and stands on her own, resolute. “Well, I guess we just go over there and act normal. Like nothing happened.”
“Right,” I scoff, because I know Spencer. Unlike me, Spencer is very bad at pretending. No way in hell is she going to be able to act as though nothing happened. She may intend to, but the minute we get to the table, she’ll say something. It’s just her nature.
We lock gazes, and once she has composed herself, we nod then make our way back to the table. I can feel the blood draining from my face as we approach, because if Spencer’s right, if this is in fact Dalton Greer, then fuck me.
Where the hell has he been for five fucking years and what the hell is he doing here now pretending to be Liam Kelley?
I watch from the side as Spencer eyes him with caution while he stands. Then he confirms our theory with what could possibly be the best plot twist ever, when he extends his hand in her direction and asks, “Wanna take a ride?”
His voice is so unlike that of the Dalton I remember. Liam’s is raspy and gritty and low. Dalton’s was more similar to Grady’s, soothing in tone. But then I see it, the torture in his eyes when she refuses to take his hand. The look alone negates any previous doubt as to whether or not, after five long years, Dalton Greer is alive and standing in front of me. It’s the same pained expression he always wore when around Spencer.
Why now after all these years? After everything?
I know now, after news broke about Rat’s death, all about Dalton’s past. Detective Kirk Lawson explained it to Spencer in a sit-down at her house shortly after he disappeared, which she later shared with me.
Dalton was forced to take refuge in the house of Silas Kincaid, an infamous drug lord in our area. He did so in order to find protection from those who’d abused him, driving him to live a double life, so to speak. There was the Dalton of the streets, and the Dalton who aspired to be what Spencer deserved. And as I observe the look on his face as he warily gauges Spencer’s reaction, it’s so very reminiscent of the tortured nineteen-year-old who disappeared years ago without a trace.
That day, I also found out that Dalton hadn’t been the only one sucked into Silas’s world. Rat had also been pulled under, working side by side with Dalton since they were kids, both forced to prove their allegiance to Silas Kincaid. Presumably, when Rat faltered, he was shot and killed on the spot. Dalton disappeared the same night.
I take my time to examine the man standing in front of me.
While his appearance is completely opposite of that of the Dalton Greer I remember, his presence, the familiar air of intimidation that often cleared a five-foot radius around him, is still very much present.
I tighten my gaze and my mind wanders.
He had always been protective of Spencer, swearing he would never let anything hurt her, then he just left. It makes no sense.
What could possibly have driven Dalton to leave so abruptly, doing exactly what he swore he would never do, completely shattering her? And what makes him
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