He shouldn’t have come back here. He should have stayed with Del. Should have been there right now, Del’s arms around him and Del’s kisses soft against his prickling skin. He should never have left the place where he felt loved. Where maybe he wasloved.
He wished he’d had the courage to ask.
And he wished that was his biggest regret as well, but it wasn’t. How could it be, when he’d brought the kids back into this house? An ugly sob tore its way out of his throat.
I’m sorry. I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.
It hurt, and he was scared, and he was going to die and he’d never see the kids grow up.
I’m so sorry.
His vision went black when Steve kicked him in the head. 18
Somehow, Del managed to run upstairs, pull on some clothes and grab his phone. When he made it back downstairs, Abigail looked wide-eyed as she huddled on the couch with all three kids.
“I’ll call 911, but if you don’t hear them within half an hour, you call too,” Del told her, and she nodded, biting her lip as she cradled a distraught Scarlett against her chest.
“Be careful.”
Del pulled on his shoes and dialed 911 as he stepped out. He explained the situation quickly as he jogged down the road.
“But sir, are you sureit’s an emergency?”
At first Del didn’t even register the man’s doubtful tone, because it seemed so ridiculous, but then a wave of hot anger rose up in him.
“Yes! I wouldn’t be calling you if I thought everything was fine!” Del panted into the phone as he got to the point in the road where he could see the sad looking house with three cars in the front.
“That’d be the O’Dwyer house, you said, so—”
“What the fuck?” he spat into the phone. “If you don’t fucking send the help right nowI’ll fucking sue the whole fucking town and get your ass fired!”
He saw someone jump into an ugly truck that wobbled as the driver hastily backed away from the yard and aimed at the road.
Del cursed and jumped to the side when the truck’s tires spat out dust and small rocks that rained on his shoes as it sped past.
“Sir?”
“Orange truck just almost ran me over, I’m almost at the house. Get the help here right the fuck now!” he roared the last bit into the phone as he disconnected the call, stuck the cell into his pocket, and ran up the rickety stairs.
The front door was open, and he could hear the horrible sounds from inside. Blocking them out, he looked around to find something to use as a weapon, because it suddenly struck him that he was a lover, not a fighter, and he had no clue what Uncle Steve even looked like.
A whimper followed with a snarled “fucking faggot” and then a sickening thump made Del jerk into action. He spotted an ancient umbrella stand in a corner full of stuff by the door and grabbed the first thing he could.
He stepped into the kitchen just in time to see a rangy, muscular man around his own age aim a kick at Justin’s head.
“Hey!” he yelled, and the kick partially missed, the guy’s boot connecting with the nearby chair instead.
It still glanced Justin, but Del couldn’t concentrate on that now.
“Who the fuck—”
The man’s words were cut short when Del swung his weapon like a baseball bat and hit him square in the side of the head.
The crunch made Del’s stomach heave before he registered what he’d heard, and Uncle Steve swayed on his feet and then fell backwards, crashed into the table, and slid down onto the floor
Del stared in shock as the man made a weird, almost gurgling sound, and stilled.
He dropped his weapon and knelt on the floor, afraid to touch Justin anywhere at all. Del’s hands hovered in the air between them, looking for a safe spot to land.
“Oh God,” Del breathed, “Justin, babe.” He didn’t know what to say or do, but he knew enough not to try to move Justin.
The sirens in the distance made him blink and tear his gaze away from the bubble of blood in the corner of Justin’s mouth. At least he was still breathing.
Del looked around, seeing Justin’s uncle still on the floor. He was breathing too, when Del concentrated on his chest for long enough. Unable to keep looking at the destructive, vile excuse of a human being, Del glanced at where he’d tossed his weapon.
It surprised him to see that it was an old walking stick. One of those with a metal handle. No wonder Steve had gone down so quickly.