Creeping embarrassment seeped into his bones, spreading from his spine to his neck and the base of his skull, igniting the discomfort Dante’s intoxicating company had soothed. Growling, Sid turned his back on the door and drifted to the kitchen on heavy legs that no longer wanted to hold him up.
A burnt, acrid smell greeted him. The bread in the oven. He’d forgotten to set the timer.
He opened the oven to a cloud of smoke and choked on it as his least favourite mantra grew louder and louder with each trip around his brain.
You fucking idiot.
8
Dante couldn’t sleep. He lay on the single bed and counted the swirls on the ceiling, chasing shapes and patterns as if they were clouds. Was it possible to see a three-legged bison in raised ridges of Artex? After three confusing hours, he wasn’t sure, but he kept trying. Anything to keep his mind off Sid.
You fucked up.
Damn it.
Concentration shot, Dante’s fingers were on his tingling lips before he could check himself, tracing them like he expected them to feel somehow different after kissing a dude for the very first time. But they felt the same, on the outside, at least. But the rest of him? Man. Maybe it was the weed, but as his heart pummelled his ribcage, he knew with almighty certainty that he’d never be the same again.
You’re still a selfish bastard, though. What did you have to go and kiss him for? He was being nice, because heisnice, not because he wanted a skank like you to jump him on his porch.
Groaning, Dante squeezed his eyes shut, willing the flashbacks of Sid’s stricken face to melt away. But they kept coming, thick and fast, in HD quality, making sure Dante couldn’t forget or even begin to convince himself he hadn’t put a bomb beneath the most soul-warming friendship he’d ever had.It’s theonlyfriendship you’ve ever had.And Dante had ruined it by leaning too far forward and falling into a kiss he’d been powerless to stop until Sid had pulled away, horror-struck and angry.
You. Fucked. Up.
Dante groaned again and rolled onto his stomach, pulling a pillow over his head. In the darkness, his stomach growled, overstimulated by the punchy spliffs he’d smoked with Sid, but he couldn’t bring himself to get up and forage his bare kitchen cupboards. Or maybe it was the idea of smothering the bright green soup Sid had compelled him to eat with his open gaze and warm smile. Whatever. It didn’t matter. Being hungry was a distraction he could take.
Eventually, he dozed off, and he woke with a jump at dawn, thirty seconds before his alarm went off. Not that he needed an alarm. Years inside had conditioned him to wake a split second before lights-on. As if the impact of the automated switch was ingrained in his brain.Stop thinking about being inside. It’s over. Move on.
Right. Dante swung his legs out of bed and moved mechanically to the shower. His bathroom cabinet had been stocked before he’d arrived: shampoo, shower gel, shaving foam. He eyed his reflection in the mirror, scrutinising the two-day scruff covering his jaw. The old Dante itched to shave it off and do something—anything—with the overlong hair that made him look like Luis. But despite the scratchy feeling he’d brought home from Sid’s doorstep, there was no part of him that wanted to look like any version of himself he’d been before.
He left the scruff alone and washed his hair, dragging his fingers through it when he was done in the shower. It hung low on his neck, darker than Luis’s but with the same wild wave.Get some fucking scissors and cut it off.
Quitting his stare down with the mirror was less effort.
Dante dressed in the same clothes he’d abandoned the night before and left the bungalow, heading for the breakfast barn on autopilot before it occurred to him that he had zero clue what to say to Sid when he got there.Sorry I threw myself at you?
It seemed a good place to start, but the closer he got to the barn, the more the words stuck in his throat. Hunger forgotten, his gut tightened with anxiety, twisting his heart until he was sure it would burst through his skin. In the short weeks Dante had lived at Wilburn Manor, Sid had been his safe place, hishappyplace, if such a thing existed for men like him. But as he neared the barn, the prospect of facing Sid made him want to die, and he wheeled away at the last moment, escaping to the tool shed instead.
He ducked inside and shut the door, letting the shadows steal the morning sun. Rami had warned him that prison left some men claustrophobic, but the opposite was true for Dante. With Sid, the bright open spaces Wilburn Manor had to offer were just that—freedom with a hefty dose of sunshine. Alone, it was too much, and Dante chased the familiarity of four walls closing in on him.Cravedit, and the tool shed was about the size of a prison cell. Even the windows were grimy strips of glass that held little access to the outside world.
Dante drifted to the box Sid had given him to keep the tools he used most often. Trowels, spades, forks, and a strange steel contraption that looked enough like a zombie knife that Dante avoided it at all costs.“It’s for planting tiny seedlings. Look, just stab it in and it leaves you the perfect hole so you don’t disrupt the roots.”
Dante had yet to test the theory for himself, preferring to use his hands, much to Sid’s amusement. And Dante didn’t mind that. If there was anything sexier than his brief acquaintance with Sid’s lips, it was his sunshine laugh.
More sunshine? Boy, you’re obsessed.
True story.
Dante reached for the violent-looking tool and turned it over in his hands, shivering as the coolness from the steel seeped into him. He hadn’t held a blade in years, and he’d never used one—had never needed to when he’d had enough disciples to do the dirty work.Didn’t keep you clean, though, did it? You’re still a piece of—
The shed door banged open.
Dante jumped and spun around, tool clutched in one hand, the other clenched in a fist.
Sid stood behind him, hair pointing in every direction, eyes hooded and tired.
He blinked as his gaze fell on Dante, then his eyes widened and he raised his hands. “Whoa. Sorry. Didn’t mean to scare you.”
“What?”