Page 21

Parker’s grip on my arm is unforgiving. The voices cease talking when we step into the kitchen.

Dante’s eyes dart from me, to Parker’s hand on my arm, to Parker’s livid face.

He moves quickly to cross the room, hand on my shoulder as he gets in Parker’s face.

I shiver at the intensity rolling off of him.

I don’t know if it’s turning me on or frightening me, these days it seems to be a dangerous combination.

“Let him go,” Dante orders, eyes hard on Parker .

“I cannot handle him. It’ll have to be Jacob,” Parker says, voice low but firm.

Jacob lifts his head from where he sits at the table. “But I’ve got the older brother.”

“No. Switch with me.”

Jacob and Parker stare each other down, before Jacob shrugs as if in awful acceptance of his punishment. I’m not that terrible.

“Dante…” I start, but slam my mouth shut when Dante stares me down.

“Alright, Parker,” Dante says slowly, carefully minding his tone. “Jacob will watch Reid when he goes to campus. You can watch Mason.”

Parker’s jaw is still clenched tight when he nods tightly. Blood pounds in the spots where his fingers crushed my arm the moment he lets go. I rub awkwardly at my arm as Parker disappears up the stairs, the door to his room slamming loud enough to make me cringe.

“Why are you being so difficult?” Dante asks, teeth gritted in barely restrained fury. He’s probably trying to scare me, but it actually oddly turns me on.

I open my mouth to reply, but nothing comes out. All words are frozen in my head, throat closed so not even a half-hearted attempt can escape.

“Oh, this just got too tense for me. I’m outtie,” Jacob says before promptly exiting the room.

“Dante.”

Dante shakes his head firmly. “No. Go upstairs.”

My feet force me along before my brain can even process that I’m moving.

The sound of Dante’s feet climbing the stairs behind me should scare me, but they don’t.

Yeah, I’m being a brat. Normally I think it riles Dante up, but something about this situation is making it do the opposite.

Maybe I grossly overplayed my hand. Maybe I fucked up, actually.

When we’re safely ensconced in his room, I open my mouth to apologize, but Dante crowds me back against the door and presses his hand to my mouth.

I’m trapped. My heart pounds wildly in my chest, like the wings of a hummingbird as they escape capture.

Dante smells like he always does, like spice and a hint of sweat.

His nostrils flare as he leers down at me, body poised to punish with how tight his muscles are coiled.

“Parker and Jacob’s mother died of lung cancer,” Dante says slowly, carefully enunciating each word so that it can get through my stupid, thick brain.

“You cannot smoke around them or antagonize them about it. They were teens and she was a single mom. They lost fucking everything.” My eyes widen as Dante presses his hand harder against my mouth.

“You don’t realize the shit you say… the shit you do…

sometimes it’s cute but sometimes it fucking hurts.

You’re so worried about punishing yourself for something you didn’t even do that you end up punishing other people too.

It’s not okay. It’s not, Reid. I… I have to make you learn. ”

Dante carefully pulls his hand away from my mouth while aiming a look at me that’s so scathing, so disappointed, that my knees go a little weak.

For the first time in my life the urge to speak isn’t there at all.

Anxiety boils at a low simmer inside me as I watch Dante pace the length of his room, his hands tangled tightly in his dark hair.

He calms after a few moments, then turns his head to aim his sharp-eyed gaze on me.

His hands are firm on my shoulders as he gently pushes until I fall to my knees in the center of his room.

“Reid, you’re a good boy, but you’ve done something very bad, do you know that?” Dante asks while hurriedly fumbling around in his nightstand.

I duck my head in embarrassment and breathe slowly to keep the emotions at bay. I don’t want to feel. Nothing at all. Just empty space inside my chest where a heart used to be. But goddamn if Dante hasn’t been trying to make me feel the past few weeks. Feel things I told myself I never would.

Dante’s bare feet reappear in my vision, but I don’t lift my head. I can’t meet his gaze, not now, not feeling like this, not feeling like I fucked everything up again. He dips down to be level with me, his hands carefully tracing down my arms, before gently tugging them behind me.

“Green, yellow, or red?” Dante asks softly, clearly seeking permission.

“Green, but… it could be yellow if… if you… you say mean things to me,” I admit with a tremble in my voice.

“Okay,” Dante replies gently, because somehow he knows me all the way to the deep dark pit of me. His hands roughly tug my wrists together, then hard cold metal snaps over my skin, and the sound of handcuffs makes my blood boil in fear, and a little excitement. “Still green?”

I nod, but Dante puts a finger under my chin to make me look at him. “Words.”

“Green,”I answer, tongue thick in my mouth.

“You’re a good boy, but your behavior was very bad,” Dante explains, voice carefully neutral, eyes sweet as always. “Do you know what you did that was wrong?”

I shake my head because I don’t want to say the words out loud. Late afternoon sun slashes through the windows, casting light yellow and oranges through the room from behind the edges of Dante’s blackout curtains.

Dante sighs softly, then tenderly strokes the skin under my chin.

His eyes smolder as he stares down at me.

A split second passes by before he slowly dips down to press his lips against mine in a too-tender kiss.

I lean forward, trying to get more of him, but he pulls away as if to tease me. I scowl, but Dante clicks his tongue.

“I’m doing this for you,” Dante says with rare affection.

He stands abruptly, making me sway forward slightly at the loss of him.

His bare foot presses against my knee hard until I’m sitting up straight, head tilted back to look up at him.

My mouth goes dry at the glorious sight of him just before my heart pounds violently when he slowly backs away from me.

His fingers clench and unclench painfully at his side a few times.

“Stay there until I tell you that you can get up.”

And then he leaves the room. What the fuck?

How would he even know if I stood up? He won’t.

I could get up right now, sit on the bed, walk around the room, and Dante would have no idea.

But even though I could do that, I don’t.

I wiggle my fingers a few times, move my shoulders back as my arms go a little numb.

My mouth is dry and I’m thirsty. I didn’t even get to sneak a cigarette in after class because Parker was so mad.

No. He wasn’t mad. He was furious. But I’d thought it’d been about me .

It wasn’t though, now that I can think about it clearly.

I’d goaded him into purchasing cigarettes for me.

The same thing that maybe killed his mom.

I’m such a piece of shit. I know what it’s like to lose a parent, I lost two.

I can’t even get on an airplane now because of that loss. Not sure if I’ll ever be able to.

I miss my parents. I miss the way my mom gently woke me up before school with a kiss on my cheek and a whispered, “Time to get up, tootsie.” I miss helping my dad in the backyard, just raking leaves, or planting the upcoming season’s vegetables for my mother.

When they died, it felt like the rug was pulled out from underneath me.

I’ve been acting out for years. Fucking whoever is willing, drinking, taking random pills, even getting arrested once.

The only person that ever even pretended to care was Mason and now Dante.

Mason gave everything up to come back to Eastport, put me through school, and all I’ve done is terrify him.

My hands tingle with numbness now, sharp pinpricks that keep me from rolling away on the tide of sadness.

I roll my shoulders again but it doesn’t help.

My hands and arms ache from the handcuffs, and my brain feels kind of scratchy, like a record with the needle in the wrong spot.

The room slowly darkens as I sit there stewing in my own misery.

This odd pain in my rib cage almost forces me over but I don’t want to disappoint Dante. I can’t disappoint another person.

The room darkens enough that the only light in the room is the glow of Dante’s computer screen wallpaper. Blue carnations. Tiredness rolls over me in gigantic waves. I feel remade in a way. I’m like the shore as high tide comes in, all bad is going out, only for good to roll in.

Footsteps stop outside the bedroom, then seconds later the door pushes open and Dante’s imposing figure cuts through the light from the hallway.

He ignores me completely, moving around the room to prepare for bed.

The odd urge to cry wells up inside me as he undresses down to just his boxers, disappears into the bathroom.

Sounds of his nightly routine filter through the room, so comforting and familiar.

Dante washes his face, brushes his teeth, swigs mouthwash, pees, then flips the bathroom light off to head toward the bed.

He’s still ignoring me and for some reason that hurts more than anything.

Dante curls up in the middle of the bed, and I can just barely see the curve of his throat as he swallows.

That’s when the tears start.

I try to hold them in but they won’t stop. The dam has been broken. Fat, awful tears roll down my cheeks, landing on my parched lips. Sticking my tongue out, I lick them away, and that only makes me sob more because I want Dante to take care of me. No one ever takes care of me anymore.