Lovers and Other Strangers by Josh Lanyon

Author:Josh Lanyon
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: maine gay romance gay mystery twins art dynasty historian the past glbt erotic painting
Publisher: Josh Lanyon

Chapter Six

“Who is Paul?” Con asked as they took the long, meandering road that wound up to the abandoned lighthouse. “You said you and Paul went down to the marina to check when Fitch might have left the island.”

Finn, distracted by any number of unpleasant reflections, dragged his gaze away from the rise and fall of the road ahead. “Paul Ryder. He’s a friend.”

“Close friend?”

“Close enough.” Finn added, “We’re not lovers, if that’s what you mean. He came because…I needed some company. At least, I thought I did. I wasn’t sure what to expect here. Paul’s an art dealer — a pretty successful one — so his schedule is, well, he makes his own schedule.”

There was nothing to read in Con’s voice or profile. He might simply have been making polite conversation. “He must be a pretty good friend to drop everything to keep you company.”

“He’s a pretty good friend,” Finn agreed. “But I think part of the attraction was he wanted to see where Fitch grew up. They had a thing a few years back, and I don’t know if Paul ever really got over it. I mean, he’s still pretty caustic and sometimes that means there are still feelings there.”

“Yes,” Con said. “Indifference is the worst.”

Finn stared out the window at the trees, the flash of brisk blue water behind the golden wall of autumn leaves. The sun was very bright. He’d forgotten sunglasses, and he put his hand up to shield his eyes.

“All right?”

He hadn’t realized that Con was watching him so closely. “I’m okay.”

“There’s an extra pair of sunglasses in the glove compartment.”

Finn shook his head. “I hate them. I won’t wear them until I don’t have a choice.”

Con’s brows drew together.

After another mile of silence, Con’s voice jerked him out of his reflections again. “The guy who was killed in the car accident that injured you…?”

“Tristan. Another friend,” Finn said unemotionally. “He might have been something more. We never got the chance to find out.”

After a hesitation, Con said, “I’m sorry.”

“Yeah.”

They did not talk the rest of the way. It was not a long drive, but the road was a roundabout one snaking through the hills and woods. As the road wound its way, Finn glimpsed the lighthouse through tree branches. He studied Con’s profile and thought that Con’s expression was peculiar. Remote and yet resolute. As though feeling his gaze, Con glanced at him and then — perhaps misreading Finn — slowed the Land Rover.

Finn was increasingly tense as the miles passed, but it was not the fear of another accident. In fact, he couldn’t understand his own mounting stress.

It wasn’t until the final stretch of road at last uncoiled at the top of a green hillock overlooking the ocean, and Con rolled to a stop in the sandy square beside the keeper’s dwelling, that Finn recognized what was disquieting him. He glanced at Con’s grim profile, stared at the small white brick building with the boarded windows, and all the while his heart was pounding in hard, hollow slams as though someone were kicking an empty oil drum.

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