“Isn’t it?”
“No. Leave him alone.”
Benjamin’s expression soured to as close to a glare as he ever got.
Sid scowled back and the stand-off expanded, thickening the air between them, suffocating Sid where his chest was already banded tight with worry.I can’t do this. He took a breath that went nowhere and dropped his hand to Benjamin’s shoulder again. “Look, I’m sorry, okay? It’s just—shit, I’m just too hot. I’m going to go home for a bit.”
“Oh.” Benjamin’s frustration morphed to concern quicker than Sid could hate himself for using his MS as a get-out clause. “Damn, I’m sorry. I’ll walk you back.”
“I don’t need babysitting.”
“I know that.” Benjamin gestured for Sid to start walking and stayed by his side as they crossed the yard together, only stopping when they reached Sid’s bungalow. “Get some rest,” he said. “When Dante comes back, is there anything in particular you need him to do?”
I need him to be okay. Sid shook his head. “I gave him the day off. We’ll tidy up the duck pond tomorrow.”
“All right then. Call me if you need anything.”
Out of habit, Sid rolled his eyes and went inside, but alone in the cool quiet of his bungalow, he regretted it. Benjamin was a good soul, akindsoul. If Dante needed help, Benjamin was a better man than Sid to give it to him.IfDante needed help. The alternative was that he’d just... gone, but Sid’s heart wouldn’t have it.
He wouldn’t leave me. Fuck, I need a smoke.
It was too early to be smoking weed on the front porch. The estate was still open and Benjamin was already on to the fact that something wasn’t right. But if Sid was going to be any use for the rest of the day, he needed to calm the fuck down.
He rolled up, missing Dante’s deft fingers as much as the rest of him. In the back garden, he lit the joint and blew the smoke into the T-shirt of Dante’s that he couldn’t bear to take off. The weed buzz crept up on him, smothering the sharp edges of anxiety just enough that he could think without frustrated tears burning his eyes.
His phone was still silent in his pocket. He fished it out and took a seat while he tapped out a message.
Sid:I don’t know where you are or what’s happened, but I’m here for you. Come home. I miss you x
Sid:I love you
The second message seemed to send itself, but as it rocketed into the land of the undelivered, Sid couldn’t bring himself to regret it. Maybe Dante would never see it, but maybe he would, and wherever he was he’d know that he was loved. That someone cared about him.
What if he doesn’t read it, though? What if that motherfucking huge bloke came back and hurt him?To Sid’s terrified heart, it was the most logical explanation—more logical than Dante had simply up and left.But what if he was right? What if you only saw in him what you wanted to see and blocked out the bad?
The notion hurt, like a knife to Sid’s chest, but as the pain solidified, he lurched to his feet, shaking his head.No. He’s a good person. And he was happy. Safe. It makes no fucking sense.
Sid stubbed his smoke out and shoved his phone in the pocket ofDante’sjeans. His fingers hit crumpled paper. Mind still racing, he withdrew his hand. A scrap of notebook paper he’d seen before came with it—the one he’d seen Dante clutching time and time again when he’d thought no one was looking.
Sid turned it over and scanned the scrawled words.
Dante,
In case you need anything you don’t want to ask Luis for. As long as you’re his brother, I’ll help you any way I can, but don’t be a bastard with me—I’m not scared of you. I never was.
Paolo
There was a phone number etched at the bottom.Don’t do it.But Sid had his own phone out before the thought computed, and he fired out a message without giving a single fuck if Dante took his head off for it when he got back.
If Dante was angry, he was alive—he wassafe, and nothing else mattered.
He sent the message.
Sid:This is Sid at Wilburn Manor. Can someone call me please?
His hands shook as he pocketed his phone again. He sank down, sliding to the ground with his back to the fence where Dante usually sat. He brought his knees to his chest so he could rest his head. Stress pain was building in his short-circuiting nerves, but he blocked it out, squeezing his eyes shut, curling his hands into fists around the scrap of paper he’d found in Dante’s pocket.
Fresh fear drenched him.Fuck, Dante. Where are you?