Page 73 of Delinquents Turned Fugitives
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My night was spentin mourning, Gray holding me on his lap and stroking my hair while I cried. Dad had already died, but losing him permanently, knowing I’d never see him or his silly fedoras again—it made my throat constrict and feel like someone had replaced it with an iron bar—it was heavy and painful as hell every time I swallowed.
Evan asked if I wanted to share stories about my dad, like we had with Mom. He asked if I wanted to celebrate Dad’s life in some way. But I shook my head. Dad’s crossing over left me more raw than Mom’s death. Because Dad had been with me. He’d still seen me, the real me, for the past couple of years. He hadn’t faded away by choice like she had a long time ago, and so the pain that hit me was so much more intense. I imagined a tiny boxer living inside of me, throwing aside his red gloves and just punching the shit out of my insides.
That’s how it felt whenever I tried to talk about him out loud.
I ended up wandering back to the bathroom when the guys made midnight spaghetti as a snack. I curled up on the rug where Dad had last stood, trying desperately to will him back. “Dad?” I’d whispered into the darkness as the bathmat rubbed against my cheek.
But he hadn’t shown because he was no longer there.
* * *
I wokein the predawn light, soft grey sheets tangled around my ankles, a warm male presence at my back. I’d been chased in my dream, running from ghosts and cops and blood-crazed vampires, so waking up was a relief.
The pain of losing my parents was bearable this morning. My hand slid over my shirt, forming a fist over my heart. While there was a hollow ache inside, it wasn’t as all-consuming as the day before. My throat felt raw, my eyes a bit dry, but all of it was manageable for some reason. I didn’t resent the birds twittering outside or the sunlight filtering through the window.
Dad was with his soulmate now. I needed to be happy for him instead of sad for myself.
I had to focus on what still needed to be done because that list was a mile long. And Matthew lay at the tail end of it.
Behind me, I felt the mattress dip as someone moved. I turned and watched Evan prop himself up on his elbow and then scoot forward to intertwine our legs. His bare chest was twice as wide as mine, making me feel safe and protected. I leaned into him with a sigh of contentment. The stress of dreams and reality were chased away by his presence.
“Morning,” I said.
Evan didn’t respond, at least not with words. His left hand slid up across my back and snuck under my shirt. Then he traced my spine with his fingertips. Up and down, up and down, he stroked in a pattern. Each slide was so soft and yet so relaxing. It made my nerves spring to life on one hand and on the other, it made me melt into him purring like a cat, a puddle of bliss.
It was the wake up I needed.
I turned toward him, his hand still under my shirt as I leaned in to kiss what I could reach. Closest to me was his neck, so I settled into the crook. I ran my lips gently over it, kissing the tendons, his pulse, then down to his collarbones. He wasn’t wearing a shirt and his pecs beckoned me.
“Evan,” I whispered reverently, tracing a fingertip over his chest. “How’d you get here?”
He shrugged. “Had to fight off Andros because he wanted to stay with you … so I kind of shifted. But you can’t seriously think we’d leave you alone.”
“I … how’d I get here?” My last memory of yesterday was in the bathroom. Had I passed out?
Evan didn’t answer, which surprised me. When I looked up at him, I realized there were tears in his eyes.
“What’s wrong?” I immediately sat up and ran a hand over the scruff of his cheek.
“I’m so sorry about your dad, Hale. Andros went upstairs to check on you. He saw you back on the mat.”
I bit my lip, not wanting to talk about it, not ready for his pity or even his own grief.But life doesn’t care if you’re ready,I reminded myself.
“It wasn’t supposed to be like this,” Evan whispered.
His voice cracked my peaceful state and gave it sharp edges that threatened to pierce my lungs and make breathing hard again.
“Like what?” I asked again, gently cupping his face in my hands, eyes studying his. My thoughts ran over worst-case scenarios. Did he regret what we were doing? Had I pulled him into something he didn’t want? Was he worried now that we’d lost my dad from the team? Was he just as broken up about it as me? He’d practically grown up at our house, so it was possible my dad meant just as much to Evan as he did to me.
“Evan, I’m sorry,” I whispered.
“Sorry?” He shook his head. “No. I’m just being a selfish ass. I just … this isn’t what was supposed to happen.”
I felt lost. “Are you talking about Dad? Crossing over?”
He hugged me to him, splaying his hand against my back and tucking my head gently into the crook of his arm. He held me there for a second, tightly, before he released me. “No. Not just your dad. And that’s why I’m a selfish idiot. That’s all I should be thinking about right now.”
