BRIAN'S POV
That first night without him, I couldn't sleep. My arm kept reaching out to an empty space, and I had to jerk it back and remind myself—he was gone.
I knew it was for the best, but still—one part of me kept thinking back—back to Britin. I was so proud—I'd babbled like a little child about everything it had to offer—everything he said he'd wanted in a home—and more.
I recalled our first real sex as an almost-married couple, there in front of the fireplace. Oh, how I loved him! No more "I believe in f*****g" Brian Kinney! They say people come into your life for a reason, and now I knew—Justin was no exception. His mission while we were together—to prove to me that love wasn't something to be scared of.
I shuddered as I thought of Babylon. That night when I found out it had been bombed. A quick U-turn, and I'd run in like a madman, looking for Justin. Of course, it was at Jennifer's prompting, like the concerned mother she was, but still—it was then that I wondered if perhaps my priorities weren't quite straight, that I'd been in the wrong all that time. And most importantly, it was only after we were reunited that I was finally able to confess that I loved him!
I wondered if he was okay—if New York really did offer him everything he wanted. Of course not, I knew, for even as he'd left, I knew, deep in my heart, that a part of me had gone with him—and the hole his absence left in my heart probably would never recover.
Nonchalantly, I went out to the Jeep and cruised Liberty Avenue. I slowed down as I approached Babylon. Reconstruction efforts were underway, and I could see the new owner surveying the damage and making plans. I turned on the radio, thinking some soft music would calm my nerves.
But not five minutes later, the news broke in. "We interrupt this broadcast for a news alert."
What came next made me pull over. It seemed there'd been a bombing in New York! Apparently, one of the art galleries had been hit. But what really made my heart sink was the revelation that it was the same art gallery where, apparently, Justin had set up an art show and was in attendance at the time of the bombing!
Just then, my cell phone rang. "Hello?"
"Oh, Brian, I'm so glad you answered," came a voice on the other end.
"Jennifer!" I wondered if she'd heard the news, too!
"I'm—I'm so worried about Justin," she said, and I could tell she was sobbing. "I—I hope he's going to be all right!"
As she explained, several of the art show attendees had been injured in the bombing—including Justin!
"Is—is there anything I can do for you?" I asked, wanting to be of help to her.
"Just go!" Jennifer couldn't have sounded more urgent. "Find him—find him and bring him home!"
Running back to Britin, I packed a suitcase and flew like a bat out of h**l to New York.