“Thank you. Jesus, you are a lifesaver.”
Peter patted his shoulder. “It’s okay. Do you want me to call the cops as well? You seem… shaken.”
Dane couldn’t help but compare Pete to Jag. Three years ago, he’d struggled for months to make things work with the nice nurse who liked to go on hikes on his days off and binge fantasy movies. But as much of a catch as Peter was, they ended things, because Dane couldn’t find the spark. With Jag, despite the initial terror, lust and romance had infused their interactions from the start, and Jag’s beastly nature pushed its claws into Dane more effectively than breakfast to bed ever could. The raw desire Jag had for him reflected Dane’s own needs so perfectly it scared him.
With Jag, there was no spark—it was a lightning bolt.
Were Jag ready to re-join society in some way, under Dane’s guidance, let him work and go wherever he pleased, there might have been potential for their strange relationship. But Dane couldn’t live in a shack in a junkyard while his family struggled without him.
“No. He doesn’t know where I live,” Dane whispered, flinching when the image of Jag’s pain-squeezed face passed through his mind at the speed of a racer. Jag had made him feel desire and affection in ways he’d never experienced before, but that didn’t mean Dane should follow his emotions like a dumb child who didn’t yet know life consisted of both pleasures and responsibilities. As lovely as Jag could be, he’d originally intended to bury Dane’s body under piles of junk. He’d held him prisoner, and gave himself the right to make all the decisions.
Running off to safety was the smart thing to do.
The sound of commotion outside made Dane’s stomach clench with anxiety, but Peter stood straighter and nodded at him. “That’s our cue.”
Every tendon and muscle in Dane’s body went rigid. His insides throbbed. But he couldn’t let himself stall and followed Peter out of the restroom, like a zombie trailing the faint smell of blood.
He half-expected to walk straight into Shane, but the coast was clear, and while his nape did tingle when he heard the man’s raised voice down the hallway, he didn’t dare look that way, for fear he might change his mind.
Instead, he focused on the patterned lanyard resting around Peter’s neck and tried to breathe.
Chapter 14 – Dane
Nothing had changed about his parents’ home. Flowers rested in vases by the concrete columns supporting the porch roof, and cards with messages of support at a trying time had been glued to the colorful wall his sister Patricia had painted back in high school. But the stairs hadn’t become any less gray, and no amount of well-wishing could have mended the hole in the roof.
Pete must not have noticed the tributes because he’d driven off after a brief goodbye, and left Dane in the street, driving slowly to avoid the deep holes in the gravel. Warm wind swept sand at his feet as he eyed the old blue Ford in the driveway. It made Dane wonder whether his own car had been retrieved, or if Rob had destroyed it. It seemed like such a trivial thing at this point.
The faint sound of a popular Disney movie song came from beyond the front door, reassuring him of his siblings' presence, but it was the silhouette he spotted from the corner of his eye that pushed him forward into the shadow of the porch. The late afternoon was still bright, and the last thing he needed was for a neighbor to notice his presence first, so he pressed on the door bell and stepped back, staring at the cracked yellow paint peeling off by the handle.
From up close, he recognized Amelia’s voice singing along with whatever Disney princess was top of the list this year, but his attention went back to the entrance when the lock clicked and the door moved forward, revealing Dad’s face.
He wore a black T-shirt and sweats, and the large dark glasses hid the scarring around his eyes left by the accident that had taken most of his sight. When the familiar, narrow features didn’t instantly brighten, Dane knew he hadn’t been recognized.
Shame and guilt bundled at the pit of his stomach. He should have come back sooner.
Somehow.
“Hello?” Dad asked, looking straight at him, and Dane stepped forward, swiping him into his arms.
Dad stiffened at first, backing away half a step, but then his strong arms, the same ones that carried Dane around in childhood, locked around him like a vice. He patted Dane’s back, squeezing him tightly, as if he needed to confirm that his son was truly back.
“Dane. What happened? You can’t believe—Alyssa! Megan! Dane’s here!” he yelled, stifling a sob.
Mom emerged from the staircase, her fluffy blonde hair flying around her face as if she’d just seen a ghost. “Oh, my God,” she cried and rushed past the living room, where some of Dane’s siblings must have been gathered. Her slippers were like skates on the smooth tiles, and she drove straight into Dane, hugging him from the other side.