Free Don't Look Back by Josh Lanyon Page A

it."
    "How could I?"
    How couldn't you? Peter thought, but Cole sounded genuinely pained, so he said wearily, “Look, I don't want to fight with you."
    "That's the last thing I want either."
    "Would you like a drink?"
    Cole nodded distractedly. “Thanks."
    Peter went to the liquor cabinet, realizing as he did so that he knew what Cole drank—two fingers of Johnny Walker Black Label on the rocks—and he also knew that he would find a bottle in his liquor cabinet, where he kept it in hope that Cole might drop by.
    He poured two drinks and carried them into the living room. Cole was still standing, gazing down at the collection of photos as though looking for answers in those freeze-framed faces.
    Peter handed him his drink, their fingers brushed. Cole tossed the whiskey back in two long swallows.
    "Again?"
    Cole moved his head in the negative. He turned the glass nervously in his hand. “Are you still...? Do you still really not remember anything?"
    "You don't believe me, do you?” Peter studied him curiously. Why would Cole think him capable of making something like this up?
    "You were ... You've been very ... unhappy."
    "Unhappy enough to turn to a life of crime?"
    "Of course not."
    "Then what are you talking about? What am I so unhappy about?"
    Cole said awkwardly, “I suppose a number of things in your life didn't turn out the way you wanted."
    Wasn't that true of everyone to a degree? Was Cole suggesting that Peter didn't want to remember because he was unhappy and disappointed? About ... what?
    "I don't understand. I have good friends. A job I love.” Yet as Peter said it, he remembered the Zoloft in the bathroom cabinet. Clearly something had not been right in his life.
    As though reading his thoughts, Cole said, “But it wasn't enough. You were lonely."
    Suddenly it was hard to meet his gaze. “Maybe."
    "I'm sorry for that. Sorry if I hurt you. It wasn't intentional. You're ... you're one of my oldest ... one of my closest friends."
    It had to be asked. “Is that all we are? Friends?"
    The Adam's apple in Cole's throat jumped. “Yes. God. I'm sorry. But yes. We've never been anything more than friends.” He said it very firmly.
    "Why are you sorry?"
    Cole seemed to have trouble meeting his eyes. “Because..."
    "I would have liked more?"
    He nodded. “It's a long time in the past, but yes. At one time you would have liked our friendship to be more."
    Peter nodded. He thought of the dreams he'd had been having. Such vivid, detailed dreams of himself and Cole. Fantasy, not memory. But very real for all that. Apparently he was a lot more of a romantic than he'd realized, carrying a torch for his best friend all these years. Romantic ... or maybe just an ass.
    "I don't know why,” Cole was saying. “I've never ... had any curiosity that way. I don't know what you thought you saw."
    "Neither do I.” He didn't mean it insultingly, but he could see from Cole's expression the way it sounded. “I mean ... I don't remember feeling that. I know I—It's obvious I had feelings for you at one time."
    "Yes."
    At one point Cole had clearly been one of the most important people in his life. Presumably someone he trusted—someone who trusted him. But that hit on the head must have knocked some sense into him.
    "Was it a problem for us? My feelings for you?"
    " No . God, no. We'd resolved all that years ago. Back in college."
    "Then why do you think I was so unhappy?"
    Cole looked even more uncomfortable. “It's just an impression. Things changed after my marriage last year. We weren't as close."
    "Well, we wouldn't be, right?"
    Cole's eyes met his. “That's true. And maybe you had come to terms with it. But you seemed distant ... worried."
    "Couldn't it have had to do with the thefts at the museum?"
    "Perhaps."
    Perhaps? Was it his imagination or was Cole something of a narcissist? Because somehow Peter had trouble believing—not that Cole wasn't an attractive guy; he was. But ... seeing him these past few days, as