Jill.
He sighed, his shoulders slumping, and as he leaned forward, cradling his face in his hands, a wash of nostalgia, of mourning, of pain came over him. And this time he let it. Normally, he pushed it away, manned up and did what a lot of guys do – went for a run, watched the football game, ate too many wings, pumped iron. But right now he let his feelings sink in. Watching her die had been one of the most – no, the most difficult thing – Dylan had ever experienced. The helplessness had nearly killed him, too. Mike had just retreated into his own world. Running tens of miles, half marathons, day in and day out until his shoes wore out within weeks, until his feet blistered, until he put his body into a state of pain that let some of the agony in his heart leak out.
Dylan wasn't like that. Dylan had fought and fought, and fought, had argued with the doctors, had argued with Jill. Bargained with God and anyone who could help. Had tried to convince her to try all sorts of alternative therapies that he had read about on the Internet, from vitamin C to certain yoga positions to chelation – and while the doctors said none for it could hurt, none of it helped.
Jill had gently accepted her own fate after a valiant struggle; Dylan had never accepted it. Ever. Here he was, a year and a half after her death finding someone like Laura, hoping that maybe she could help to repair some of the scars that were still fresh from Jill's death.
And then Mike goes and turns into a snake.
Why would he do this? This wasn't Mike's style at all. He wasn't the type to poach a girl. Mike was the beta. They joked about it. Dylan was the alpha and Mike was the beta and that was just the law of nature and how things worked between the two of them – between the three of them, with Jill. Jill had liked Mike's sensitive touchy-feelly, new-agey nature and she’d loved Dylan's arrogance.
Oh, that had hurt. She had called him arrogant all the time, as if his self-confidence didn't have a bedrock foundation for his firm grounding. Here he was a fire-fighter, a paramedic – built, a former model and he was arrogant? He could wave it away most of the time, but now he just chuckled to himself, thinking about the times she had put him in his place. Frankly, he had needed that, needed her steady, sardonic wit, her –
"Oh, stop it Dylan. She's gone. Just stop it," he mumbled to himself. He looke,d up stared at the monitor again, and the nostalgia came to a screeching halt.
He narrowed his eyes.
It was time for the alpha to put the beta in his place.
Whistling some Lady Gaga tune that he'd caught in the car on the long drive home from the mountain, Mike was feeling pretty pleased with himself. He had just proven that he, on his own, could catch the same woman Dylan could catch.
And boy, what a catch Laura was. Way more than he ever expected. She was absolutely, positively nothing like Jill. And yet, he had a feeling that if the two had met, Jill would have really liked her – and probably would have given her approval. Laura accepted the fact that he was quiet sometimes and he was able to sit in absolute silence with her, out in a field, staring at the mountain. The two of them could just coexist in peace together. You couldn't find that in many people. Very few, in fact.
Jill had been one of them. Dylan definitely wasn't, but he had other traits that made him worth being with, hard as it might be these days to remember them. As he pulled into his parking spot his mind was filled with nothing but plans to see Laura again. A niggling irritant scratched deep within his brain, though, ruining the absolute perfection of this new beginning.
Dylan.
He had to tell Dylan at some point and it wasn't going to go well. He and Dylan had been together since high school and he knew him backwards, forwards and upside-down. Even though Mike's intentions were pure, Dylan would view this as a threat, as a challenge, as some sort of – as Dylan put it – alpha-beta problem.
Mike just rolled his eyes and ignored the alpha-beta crap because he knew that on the surface he looked like a beta. They weren't wolves, though, and this wasn't a pack; they were human beings who were complex and nuanced. And he could show Dylan, and himself, that he was capable of going out on his own and find a woman.
Well, okay, that wasn't quite fair. Dylan had found the woman. Fair enough – but he could go out on his own and test the waters. Make sure the woman was attracted to him on her own and not as part of some package with Dylan at the lead.
He had just done that today. Quite pleased with himself, that sense of pleasure faded, like a light switch being flipped off, the second he walked in the apartment and saw Dylan’s face.
"You slept with her, didn't you?" Dylan wasn't just pissed. Betrayal was too mild a word to describe his feelings. He was itching for a fight, his fingers clenching against his hot palms.
Mike walked through the door, a cheerful smile on his face, a loose, languid quality to his joints that made Dylan want to throw him against the wall and beat the ever-loving shit out of him for taking his woman.
Their woman.
Funny, how history seemed to repeat itself. Because this is exactly what had happened with Jill almost ten years ago when they'd all first met. Mike would deny it, but the reality was that Jill had been Dylan's girlfriend and Mike had been the interloper then. So, even though Dylan knew that they had this running joke, that he was the alpha and Mike was the beta. Mike was neither – he was really just a snake.
A snake Dylan couldn't live without.
“You son of a bitch, you went and – you found Laura and you – the morning after my date with her, you contacted her and got her to go out with you!” He couldn't help but stammer, and the sputtering made him feel small and insignificant, reduced to babbling like a lovesick teen. Fury plumed in him, hot and fast, with a taste like blood.
Mike stopped dead in his tracks and shoved his hands in his pockets, staring ahead at Dylan, eyes boring into his.
“Yep.”