It wasn’t like he had a chance to ever be more. Dominic didn’t want him that way, not really. Sure, Dominic was possessive, protective, and fond of him, but those emotions weren’t love. One could be fond and protective of a child. One could be possessive of a toy one bought. Possessiveness had nothing to do with love.
Dominic had a woman he loved waiting for him to come back to her. Whatever he felt for Sam clearly wasn’t serious enough to stop Dominic from reuniting with his Japanese bird. Luke Whitford had gotten it all wrong. Dominic definitely didn’t put Sam first in his life, and he never would. If Sam stayed, he would be the one begging for crumbs of Dominic’s affection, like a stupid, lovesick puppy that constantly got in the way, which Dominic didn’t get rid of out of pity and misguided fondness. He should leave before he became more pathetic than he already was—and before Dominic’s fondness of him was replaced by regret and resentment.
Before he became a burden.
Do you have any idea how much you mess me up? You messed everything up.
Wiping his eyes again, Sam got up and headed away from Dominic’s house. He could have gone back to grab his things—Dominic had likely already left to get a dressing-down from Amanda—but he was too scared to do that. He was scared he wouldn’t be strong enough to leave if he was surrounded by everything that reminded him of Dominic.
He didn’t want or need material possessions, anyway.
Sam’s lips twisted into a bitter smile. He could always steal what he needed, after all. That was the only thing he was good for.
As the distance between him and Dominic’s house grew, the ache in Sam’s throat became nearly unbearable.
I will never see Dominic again.
The thought felt like a punch to his stomach, making him stagger on his feet and come to a halt, wide-eyed and breathless.
He couldn’t do it.
He couldn’t.
“You can, damn you,” Sam whispered, digging his nails into his palms. Gritting his teeth, he forced himself to resume walking. It felt like walking against a strong wind, every step an effort. He ignored the small, needy voice at the back of his mind whispering that he couldn’t just leave without telling Dominic. Sam didn’t let it sway him. He couldn’t talk to Dominic: one look at him would make his resolve crumble.
Besides, he didn’t need to see Dominic to inform him that he was leaving.
Sam pulled out his phone—the only remaining link between him and Dominic—and typed a quick message. He owed Dominic that much.
I’m so sorry. Thanks for everything. Please don’t look for me.
Sammy stared at the text, hesitating. He kind of wanted to tell Dominic that he loved him. He might never have Dominic’s love, but he didn’t want to be remembered by Dominic as that stupid gay kid with a crush.
A crush was something exciting, juvenile, and fleeting. The feeling that tightened his chest as Sam stared at the picture he’d set as the lock screen background was neither of those things. He’d taken that picture a few weeks ago. Dominic had been hilariously grumpy that Sunday morning, refusing to get out of bed and glaring at Sam sleepily for waking him up. He’d told Dominic the picture was too funny not to be his lock screen. He hadn’t told him that it made him smile soppily every time he saw it.
Biting his lip so hard that he could taste blood, Sam sent the message without adding anything he would regret later, turned the phone off, and threw it into the nearest rubbish bin.
Chapter 29
Sam didn’t go back to Tucker’s gang. Even if he wanted to, which he didn’t, he couldn’t go back there. Dominic would find him easily if he did.
He entertained the idea of being independent only for a few moments; no matter how much he would like it, it wouldn’t be smart. Sooner or later, Tucker would find him. He needed protection of another gang.
Billy Redknap’s gang operated on the opposite end of the city from Tucker’s, which suited Sam perfectly. Billy didn’t ask many questions and accepted him into his gang eagerly enough—Sam did have a bit of a reputation. The deal was simple: he was to give seventy percent of his “earnings” to Billy in exchange for protection and a roof over his head. Sam agreed.
That first night, Sam lay awake for a long time, unable to sleep. It wasn’t the hardness of the bed or the unpleasant smell of the room he’d been given—he’d slept in worse places than this. It was the anxiety and inability to relax with the sounds of unfamiliar people’s comings and goings. There was no bolt on the door, and Sam was painfully aware of it. The walls were very thin, and he kept flinching every time someone laughed or shouted. When people started having sex in the room to his left, Sam buried his face under his pillow, trying not to listen or wonder if the sex was consensual or not. It wasn’t like he could do anything if it wasn’t. He had neither friends nor allies in this gang yet and he had no delusions about his physical prowess.