Page 61 of Rock Bottom

We could have a long-distance relationship, I supposed, but that could only last so long. Without him next to me, it wouldn’t be the same.

That left us at an impasse. If nothing changed, then there was no way we could be together long term. I had to treat this for what it was: a hot but temporary tryst with a famous rockstar.

My heart sank. There were probably millions of people who’d die to be in my position, but I wanted more than a tryst. I wanted a real relationship with someone. No, not just someone. With Dante.

Dante let out another loud shriek, and I turned my head again, expecting to find him tangled in the fishing line. Instead, he was jumping up and down and pointing at the water. I’d tuned out long enough that he’d gotten his line untangled and cast it back in the water, and now the little yellow bobber was being pulled beneath the surface.

“Church, look! I caught one! What do I do?”

I chuckled. “Reel it in before it gets away.”

He let out a surprised gasp as the fishing rod jerked forward and almost flew out of his hands. Dante dug his feet into the mud at the edge of the lake as if he were in for the fight of his life against what was probably only a little blue gill. I abandoned my rod and jogged over to help him.

I grinned as the fish came free of the water. It hung on the hook, tail flapping, scales gleaming in the mid-day sun. “Congratulations, Dante. You’ve caught the first fish of the day.”

I patted his back and looked at Dante, expecting a big, proud smile. Instead, his lips were turned down in a deep frown, his forehead wrinkled as he watched the little fish struggling on the hook.

“What’s the matter, Dante?”

He looked up at me, his eyes watery. “He looks like he’s in pain.”

I winced and looked back at the fish squirming on the hook. Of course the bloody fish was in pain. There was a sharp hook through its mouth and we’d just tricked him into thinking he was getting a fine meal. All the pride and joy I’d been holding onto at Dante getting his first catch fizzled, leaving behind only guilt.

Christ, why did Dante have to be so bloody soft hearted? But that was part of his charm. He was beautifully innocent in many ways, and it made me want to scoop him up and shield him from all the ugliness of the world.

Even the bleeding fish on the line dangling between us.

“Come on then. Let’s set him loose back in the pond.” I unhooked the fish as gently as I could and he went flopping back into the water to swim away. He’d probably be lunch for a bigger fish, injured as he was, but I didn’t tell Dante that. Instead, I put a comforting hand on his shoulder and told him to pack up his pole and the tackle box. We were done for the day.

“I’m sorry I ruined your fishing trip,” Dante muttered as we walked back toward the cabin.

I shook my head. “You didn’t ruin anything.”

“Yes, I did. You probably would’ve stayed out on the lake fishing all day if I hadn’t been so pathetic just now.”

I stopped and put a hand on Dante’s shoulder. “Having a heart doesn’t make you weak or pathetic, Dante. It’s okay to feel however you feel, and you shouldn’t ever feel bad about speaking up about it.”

He frowned. “Even if it ruins everyone else’s fun?”

“If the people around you are having fun, but you’re uncomfortable, you’re around the wrong people,” I said, lifting my hand from his shoulder. “Anyone worth your time should care how you feel and want you to be comfortable. It’s okay if fishing isn’t for you. It’s not for a lot of people.”

He put on one of his trademark smiles and elbowed me. “I guess you’ll just have to provide for the both of us if we ever need to survive on fish.”

I laughed. “Happy to, as long as you promise to stay far away from the fish so you don’t scare them off.”

“Deal.” Dante moved in closer and took my hand, threading our fingers together as we started walking again.

I looked down at where our hands were joined, more warmth spreading through me. I couldn’t remember the last time I’d held hands with someone. Maybe never. It was… nice. I could do with a bit more of that.

We came upon the rear of the house and set down the tackle box and fishing rod on the back porch. I instructed Dante to wait there while I went inside to check the place. He scoffed and complained, but I was quickly learning that was just Dante. He liked complaining almost as much as he liked the way I fussed over keeping him safe. He was just playing the part of the spoiled musician, and he did it very well.

Despite the fishing trip being a bust, I was still in an amazing mood when we arrived back at the cabin. All of that vanished the moment I slid open the back door and found the living room in disarray.

Someone had torn the cushions off the sofa and tossed them around. The lamp lay in pieces on the floor. Books had been pulled out from the bookshelf and thrown in heaps, and there were papers everywhere.

I drew the gun I kept on me at all times and pressed my back to the wall, sliding further into the house. The kitchen was wrecked, boxes and tins of food pulled out of the cabinet and thrown on the counter and floor like trash. There were pots and pans strewn everywhere, but no sign of whoever was responsible.

I threw open the bathroom door and found the medicine cabinet open, the meager contents spilling into the sink. Even my room hadn’t been spared. The bed and dresser had been tossed.

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