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He didn’t, though. He held on to Dalton and listened to his lover breathe.

Chapter Twenty-Seven

DALTON COULDN’Tbreathe.

He blinked awake, his eyebrows drawing down as a jolt of panic hit him.

“Shhh. Dee, it’s okay. It’s cool. You had surgery.” Dustin was there, looking down into his eyes.

“Bubba.” His voice didn’t sound like his. “It was Rocket. Rocket did this to me.”

“Rocket’s in jail, Dee.”

“They found him before you did, huh?”

“Before me, Deb. Tank. Buick. Momma. Dakota….”

“Oh God.”

“Pops was pretty mean about it. Made us sit.” Dustin chuckled. “You know how he is.”

“Uh-huh.” He held his brother’s gaze. That had scared him. Bad.

“I know, Dee. I hear you. You’re good.”

“Tank? Is he okay?”

“He’s sacked out in the waiting room. Took them until three to find a bed for you. He was with you the whole way.” Dustin stood up and sat back down. “Momma and them headed home. Deb will ride safety man next weekend. You get a vacation.”

“What if I don’t want one?” He couldn’t laugh; it hurt too much.

“Too bad. Tank’ll get one too. That leg of his needs rest. Y’all can hold down the fort.”

“He hurt his leg again?” Dalton tried to sit up, but that was a huge mistake.

“Hey! Hey!” Dustin grabbed him, pushed him back. “You got to stop that.”

“Sorry.” He wheezed a moment, the thing in his nose annoying the shit out of him but making him feel better too. “Damn.”

“He’s fine. Y’all need to breathe. You hear me? You need to blow up balloons and learn to be a couple.” Dustin’s hand was heavy on his chest, keeping him still. “You can let Dakota cook for you.”

“Poison me, more like.”

Dustin snorted. “Like you need anyone else trying to kill you, ass-hat.”

“Yeah. Yeah, did you…?”Kill him? Did you get yourself in trouble for me?

Dustin shook his head, lips tight. “They took him to county. He shot two police officers when they arrested him. There were lots of pictures and shit in his trailer.”

Dalton shook his head. “I didn’t….”

“He’d put a tracker on your fucking truck, Dee. He’s a psycho.”

“A tracker?”

“Yeah, like an electronic tracer. He had pics of you and Tank at the pool. Hiking. All this shit. Pictures of you sleeping.”

“Stop panicking him, Dustin. Rocket’s in jail.”