Page 32 of The Story of You

Silas

It was late August. I was almost done with high school. Father didn’t seem to care as much about the house being a mess. I kept up with the major stuff, but I focused on finishing school while Oliver slept rather than doing chores. I didn’t have much coursework left and I joked with Darius I’d be done by the time he made it to grade eight in the fall.

I did my usual that morning, planting Oliver in his highchair, rubbing and kissing his blond head, and cutting up things for him to shovel into his mouth with his hands. Father sleeping late was common but not for Darius. He was up by now, harassing me and telling the baby what to do. I grumbled about making breakfast by myself but remembered I didn’t have to make as much. That Mother wasn’t in her room.

When Darius still wasn’t down by the time I had everything plated, I went up with Oliver, intent on dragging him downstairs—he would be doing all the breakfast dishes on his own.

Darius wasn’t there.

His bed was unmade. There were clothes strewn all over the floor.

I ran to Father’s room. He wasn’t there either. I raced downstairs ready to call the police just as Father came in the door. He was ragged. His hair was a mess. His clothes were askew. “Father, Darius is missing.”

He shook his head. “No. I drove him to stay with Uncle Pax.”

“In the middle of the night?”

“Yeah. I’d had enough, Silas. He needed to go, or I was going to kill him.”

I ran a hand through my hair, pressing it to my crown, pausing to think. “I don’t understand. Did you have a fight?”

I hadn’t heard anything. I’d been working hard to keep the two from going at each other’s throats, but I thought I’d been successful. In some ways, they were too much alike.

“Not a new one. I decided at dinner when he threw yet another tantrum.”

“So, you did it in the middle of the night?”

“Early this morning. I dropped him at the bus depot. He’ll stay with Uncle Pax for a bit; we’ll both cool off. It will give me a chance to heal and then he can come home. It’s for the best.”

So, did he drive him to stay with Uncle Pax or was it the bus depot? It’s true they could be interpreted to mean the same thing.

I didn’t like the sound of it either way. My gut toiled, wracked with haunting emptiness. But I had no reason not to believe him when he said Darius was with Uncle Pax. My brain listed for me why this was a good idea. To say things had been tumultuous was an understatement. Darius needed to heal too, and he wouldn’t be able to do that around Father. Uncle Pax was cool, fun, and even-tempered. It would be just what the doctor ordered for Darius. Father would get better too, and we’d be a family again—what was left of us.

That’s what my brain said.

My intuition told me Darius was gone and he was never coming back.

ChapterEleven

Oliver – May 20th, 2009

The book is yanked from my hands. I’m gonna pound on people if they keep taking it from me. Well, maybe not Silas that’s just stupid. I’m face to face with the most handsome Italian on the planet and I forgive him instantly. He’s lying between my legs on the bed. Wow. Was I that absorbed? I didn’t even notice.

He sets the book on the nightstand. “I hope you’ve obeyed me, amore.”

I have to think about it. “Mostly,” I say as I wipe my face on my sleeve—I put a sweater on over my dress—and sniffle. “I called Wyatt. He sat with me until he had to go. I took a break and then came up here. You’ve been gone awhile. Everything, okay?”

He nods. “Everything is perfect. Calvin showed me the list of dancers he wants to train for pointe. We’ll start next month when everyone is officially back from break.”

Some of the dancers went on vacation.

I run my fingers through his hair. “I’m so glad you’re home. I thought maybe something was up earlier, but things feel good now.”

“How about I make you feel even better?” he says, sliding a hand up my dress. I put a pair of lace panties on for him in case he came home in the mood to fuck. When he feels them, his brown eyes glow like he’s struck gold. Instead of peeling them off, he shoves the bottom of my dress up my body.

He takes in the sight of the lace clinging to my dick, pressing my hardness up my body with the head poking out of the waistband. By the way his expression changes, he has a devilish idea.

“What are you going to do?”