Chapter 97 Resolution
Daniel: POV
I stared at my phone screen, at Alex's brief message: [I'm going away for a while. Need some time to think. We'll talk when I get back.]
My thumb hovered over the keyboard, a thousand responses flooding my mind. I wanted to ask where he was going, how long he'd be gone, if he was okay. But instead, I typed:
"Alright, see you then."
I didn't want to push him. Not after seeing the shock and confusion in his eyes when I'd told him how I felt. The way he'd looked at me like I was a stranger.
I tossed my phone onto the couch and sank into the cushions, replaying that moment at the hotel. Maybe I'd been too direct. Maybe I should have found a gentler way to tell him that his best friend had been in love with him for years.
The silence in my apartment felt suffocating. For the first time in our friendship, I didn't know where Alex was or what he was thinking. We'd never gone more than a day without talking.
I grabbed my phone again and called Blake. Maybe he'd heard something.
"Daniel," Blake answered on the third ring. "Everything okay?"
"Have you heard from Alex?" I asked, trying to keep my voice casual. "He mentioned needing some time away."
"No, actually. I texted him earlier about helping with something for Olivia, but he just sent some vague reply about being busy. Why? Everything alright between you two?"
I hesitated. "We had a... complicated conversation. I think he needs space to process it."
"Ah." Blake's tone suggested he understood more than he was saying. "Well, you know Alex. When he gets overwhelmed, he tends to disappear for a while. Remember when he drove to his uncle's cabin for a week after his dad's heart attack? Sometimes he just needs to think things through alone."
"Yeah," I said, though this felt different. "You're probably right."
After hanging up, I tried to focus on work, on anything that would distract me from the gnawing worry in my chest. But every few minutes, I found myself checking my phone, hoping for another message from Alex.
By evening, the uncertainty was eating at me. I called my family's assistant, Mitchell.
"I need a small favor," I said when he answered. "Can you help me find out where someone might be traveling? It's... a personal matter."
Mitchell had worked for my family long enough to handle unusual requests discreetly. "What do you need to know?"
"Alex Hamilton. He mentioned going away, but I'm worried about him. I just want to make sure he's safe."
Three hours later, Mitchell called back. "Your friend booked a flight to Tucson and signed up for a wilderness expedition in the Sonoran Desert. Two months, starting tomorrow."
I sat in stunned silence. Alex hated camping. He once complained about a hotel room because the air conditioning was too loud. A two-month desert expedition was so unlike him that it confirmed my worst fears—he was running from me, from us, from everything.
The thought of him out there, struggling through something he hated just to avoid dealing with our situation, made my chest tight with guilt and worry.
I found myself looking up the expedition company before I'd consciously decided to do anything. Sonoran Adventures. Led by someone named Jack Reeves.
Before I could talk myself out of it, I was dialing their number.
"Jack Reeves," a gruff voice answered.
"Jack, this is Daniel Morgan. I understand you're leading an expedition starting tomorrow?"
"That's right. What can I do for you?"
"I'd like to join, if there's still space."
"Sorry, we're full up. Next one's in October."
I closed my eyes, feeling desperate. "I know this is unusual, but I have a friend on this expedition. Alex Hamilton. I'm... concerned about him. He's going through a difficult time, and I don't think he should be alone out there."
A pause. "Look, Mr. Morgan, these expeditions aren't therapy sessions. They're serious wilderness experiences that require preparation."
"I understand. I'm in good shape, I can get whatever gear I need, and I'll pay whatever it costs. I'm not trying to cause problems—I just want to be there if he needs support."
The silence stretched for several seconds.
"This friend of yours—he seemed competent when he signed up. A little intense, maybe, but not unstable."
"He's not unstable," I said quickly. "He's just... processing some personal stuff. Sometimes he makes impulsive decisions when he's overwhelmed. I've known him for years—I can tell when he's not thinking clearly."
Another long pause. "If I let you join, you follow my rules. No drama, no personal conflicts that put the group at risk. This is about wilderness experience, not working out your relationship problems."
"Of course. I just want to be nearby in case he needs a friend."
"Alright. But it'll cost you extra for the last-minute addition, and you need to get to Tucson by tomorrow evening with proper gear."
"Thank you," I said, relief flooding through me. "I really appreciate this."
After hanging up, I started packing with shaking hands. I wasn't even sure what I hoped to accomplish. Maybe Alex would be angry when he saw me. Maybe this would make everything worse.
But the thought of him out there alone, struggling with something I'd caused, was unbearable. I didn't need to fix everything or force him to talk. I just needed to be close enough to help if he needed it.
As I threw clothes into a duffel bag, I tried to imagine what I'd say when I saw him. Maybe nothing at first. Maybe I'd just let him know I was there, that running away didn't mean he had to be alone.
The next day, I was on a red-eye flight to Arizona, staring out the window at the lights below. I still wasn't sure this was the right thing to do, but I couldn't live with the alternative—sitting at home wondering if he was okay, if he was safe, if he'd ever forgive me for changing everything between us.
I didn't need him to love me back. I just needed him to be okay.