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Her hands went to his belt buckle, and soon they were joined again, their bodies moving as one as rain began to pelt the windows behind the bed. It was just them, the rain, and their silhouettes that were painted on the walls by candlelight.

And it was perfect.

83

Wacky’s Waffles

STATE OF KER

Wacky’s Waffleswas a diner in the Middle of Nowhere, State of Ker. It was outdated and damn near falling apart. But the food?

To die for.

At a table by the windows that overlooked the twilit highway, Roman slung an arm across the back of the booth and surveyed his uncle sitting across from him. They were alone for the first time since they’d sat down to stuff their faces with waffles, burgers, fries, milkshakes, you name it. Shay and Pax were occupied by the arcade game on the other side of the diner. Dean’s men were keeping watch outside; Roman could see their silhouettes moving about in the glow of headlights, their muffled, carefree laughter filtering through the glass.

Dean—who had practically materialized out of thin air to save their asses after not even speaking to Roman in almost a year. Dean—who was currently slurping up the last of his strawberry milkshake, noisily sucking air through a straw as pink as the shake. The pink looked hilarious when paired with his black leather jacket and general fuck-with-me-and-I’ll-make-you-regret-it persona, but that was Uncle Dean for you.

Roman felt his brows rise. Slowly. He still couldn’t believe this was happening. That he was sitting across from the man he’d idolized his whole life after being arrested by the cops and fully convinced that his world was about to crash and burn.

Dean released the straw and gave a theatrical, contented sigh, a big grin on his face, before pushing the glass aside and lacing his fingers on the table. “So,” he said, still grinning, his combat boots thumping beneath the table to the beat of the old song blasting from the jukebox.

“So,” Roman repeated. He lifted the hand he had resting on the back of the booth in a what-are-we-supposed-to-talk-about-now gesture.

“So,” Dean repeated, that smile broadening. “You look like you’ve got a million questions for me, and I’m the man with the answers, so go on and hit me, kid.” He snatched a fry off Paxton’s plate and stuffed it into his mouth.

“Okay. Um.” He lifted his hand in question again, thinking. Where to begin? He settled with: “How’d you find us?”

The moment Uncle Dean opened the doors to the prisoner transport van, Roman had been too shocked to say much, apart from his name. And the relief he’d felt the moment a sobbing Paxton had sprinted down the road and collided with him was so intense, he hadn’t spared one thought for how everything had played out. He hadn’t given a shit. The only thing that had mattered was that he had his little brother back and they weren’t dying today. But now that he’d had time to cool down and think, he had questions. Lots of them.

“Tuned into the cop radio,” Dean replied. He dunked a second fry in ketchup. “Not that hard.” He winked and stuffed the fry into his mouth.

“You were obviously close by, though. How’d you get over here so fast?” Dean lived in Tyrmouth, a city that was closer to Angelthene than it was Yveswich. Driving from Tyrmouth toYveswich would take…about three days, he’d estimate. Maybe four. But Dean always drove like a lunatic on a race track with a death wish, so it was probably more like two and a half.

“Iwasclose by,” Dean confirmed. “Soon as I heard what was happening in Yveswich, with the power outage or whatever the hell’s going on there, I packed up and left. And then the missing-child alert went out for Paxton, and the minute I saw that, I knew something serious was going on and I had to find you before your psycho dad got to you first. So I followed allllllll those little clues—” He walked two fingers across the table. “—And voila.” He flourished his hands. “Now you’re here, enjoying some waffles and a milkshake with your favorite uncle. Easy peasy, right?” He dusted the salt off his fingers and took the liberty of polishing off Pax’s chocolate milkshake.

“Easy peasy,” Roman repeated with a murmur, still in disbelief.

On a more serious note, Dean added, “I’ve been waiting for this day for a long time, Rome. I knew it would come, I just didn’t know when.”

Roman dragged his tongue stud across the roof of his mouth. “Huh.”

“Whatisgoing on in Yveswich, anyway? I hear they’ve locked the city down.” He ate another fry.

Roman sucked in a breath and said on the exhale, “Um. Yeah, I don’t really know. They’re trying to contain some sort of…threat.” Dean’s brow creased. “From another dimension, or something—I don’t know. They’re not saying much.” It felt weird to withhold the truth from Dean when Roman trusted him with his life, but…this wasn’t about him. It was about Loren.

“Hm. Okay, well— First of all, let’s get the pleasantries out of the way. I’m glad you’re okay. Nice to see ya.” His eyes danced.

Roman smirked. “You, too.”

“So, you just heard my side of the story. What’s yours? Minus the power outage shit.”

What the hellwashis story? What could he get away with telling this man?

“Long,” he settled with. “My story’s long.”

“I’ve got time.” When Roman kept his mouth shut, Dean suggested, “Why don’t you start with how you managed to get away from your dad? How’d that all go down? Tell your old uncle a story.”

“Okay.” Roman chewed on his lower lip. Crossed his arms. “The night we were being evacuated, I got separated from Pax. Trey and Simon got a hold of him and his friend Eugene?—