Chapter 244

“No,” Scooter protested, but it felt empty. Hollow. “Andy came back, dammit, he came back to me.He didn’t…he didn’t go, like every—” like Scooter’s entire family had left him. His ma, who hadn’t wanted to go, but it hadn’t stopped her. His sister who’d left and hidden for so long that he didn’t even know her, before she left him again in a more permanent way.

The mist cleared a little—they were in the graveyard, near the Stahls’ plot. There…there were only two Stahls left in the world. Him and…

…he stared at his hand. Billie wasn’t there, she wasn’t holding onto his hand.

No, no, wait.

Nick was still there, the smug bastard. His smile hadn’t slipped. His knuckles were skinned; a rivulet of blood dripped down his fingers, disappearing into the mist.

“What did you do to them? Where are they?”

“It doesn’t matter, Stahl. They’re not yours anymore. They’re mine.” Nick looked like an angel, and had the heart of a demon. He licked the blood from his knuckle. “And it took so very little convincing.”

It’s never an accident when you hit someone. Scooter wanted to destroy Nick, but he couldn’t raise his arms. It hurt like a heart attack. He managed to get his arm up, cocked back his elbow. The blow was useless; he connected, but there was no force in his arm. He was weak. Worthless.

Big Win would have sneered at him, his mouth twitching with disapproval. Scooter was weak. Girlie. Worthless

He stumbled, fell. Was on his knees in the nothingness in front of Nick. Who was looking down at him. Mocking him.

Grief welled up, greater than anger, greater than shame, and Scooter raised his face to the uncaring sky and screamed—

“Scooter!” Hands on his shoulders, hot, squeezing hard. “Scooter, honey, wake up!”

He couldn’t see; where he’d been surrounded by blinding white fog, now there was nothingness. His chest ached and he gasped for air. His heart was pounding so hard he could barely think, couldn’t…Someone was touching him and he flinched back. “Wha—?”

“Hey, it’s me, baby, it’s me. Come on, wake up.” The hands didn’t touch him again, but there was warmth beside him, the heat of another body next to his. “Scooter?”

“Andy?” His voice was shaking; his whole body was shaking. His throat was burning. He couldn’t get enough air. He raised his hands to his face to try to scrub away his confusion. “I…but…” He wanted to reach for Andy, for his husband, but was scared to try, that his hands might pass through Andy entirely. That he would be too weak to hold on. “It’s too dark.” That came out sounding broken. Beaten.

“Okay, I can—” Cool air rushed under the blankets as Andy rolled away from Scooter. A moment later, the bedside lamp clicked on, its dim light almost as blinding as the dark. “There we go. You back with me, honey?”

Scooter opened his mouth, shook his head, then—”You left me.” His eyes burned under the change of light, with the force behind his words. How sick and betrayed he felt. And terrified; the thought of Andy and Billie in Nick’s care? He was shaking and he didn’t know how to stop.

“I’m right here,” Andy said. “I didn’t go anywhere, baby. It was a dream. I wouldn’t leave you. I promised, remember? Even if there are aliens.”

His breathing was slowing down; he was dizzy from hyperventilating. “Dreamed it?” More of a question than he wanted it to be. “You…you took Billie, went…went back to Nick. He…he was there.” Blood dripping from his fingers. He managed to raise his chin to study Andy’s face; in the half-shadow he couldn’t tell. Reached out and tipped Andy’s face toward the lamp. No bruises. His breathing slowed again.

“Jesus, Scooter,” Andy breathed. “God, I’d never, I’d never…No wonder you were yelling.” He held out a hand, hesitant but offering. “I’d never take her from you. I’d never go back to him, not for anything. God knows I’d never expose Billie to that toxic shit stain.”

Scooter nodded. He knew that, he knew that. “I…I know that,” he said, and his voice didn’t even break. He took another breath, slow and careful. “Will…Andy, will you pleasehold me?”

“Love to,” Andy said quickly, voice shivering with relief. He slid closer, smoothed out blankets that had been twisted and rumpled, then pulled Scooter into his arms. “Here, baby, I’ve got you.”

Scooter folded gratefully into Andy’s embrace; pressed his face against the safe hollow of Andy’s throat, fingers gripping harder than maybe they should.

There was a faint sound from the other side of the room, and Billie piped up, “Uncle Andy, what’s a ‘shit stain’?”

Andy huffed out something like a laugh. “Something you shouldn’t repeat at school. Come and give Uncle Scooter a hug; he had a bad dream.”

“I’m sorry.” Scooter managed to pull himself away from his husband to make room for Billie as she squirmed up onto the bed. “Did I wake you up?”

There went that look again; Billie was the most sarcastic seven-year-old Scooter had ever met, even without saying a word. She climbed into the small gap between Andy and Scooter. “You were screamin’,” she said. “Was it a monster?”

Scooter put his arms around his family, pulling both of them closer. “Yeah, honey.” It wasn’t even a lie. “It was.”

Andy grunted, but it didn’t sound like disagreement. “We’re still here,” he said into Scooter’s hair.