A message from Sid.
Dante’s pulse quickened, and heat that had nothing to do with the blazing sun flooded his veins. He swiped the message, bracing himself for a one-word answer, but something else greeted him.
Sid:Can u come back? I need u.
9
The knock at the door came three minutes later. Sid eyed the front door from his position on the kitchen floor, but the prospect of moving his legs made his nerves scream in pain, so he stayed where he was in the hope that Dante’s old life had taught him to unlock a door without a key.
Or that he’d call and Sid could tell him he couldn’t get up.
It made more sense than breaking and entering.Doesn’t it?
Sid’s brain was too cloudy to figure it out.
“Hey.”
Sid forced his eyes open. For the second time that week, Dante crouched in front of him, waking him from an abyss he didn’t remember falling into.
His expression was different this time, though. His barely-there rakish grin was absent, and in its place was a frown so deep Sid reached to smooth it away before he caught the reaction. At least, he did in his head. In reality, his arm jerked and fresh spasms ran from his thumb joint to his ear, washing acid through his already scorched veins.
“Fuck.” Sid winced and closed his eyes again. “Sorry. It’s too hot.”
“What is? The weather? Or you?”
“Both. Did you break in here?”
“Maybe. If you open your eyes and look at me again, I’ll tell you all about it.”
“Sounds fair.” Sid opened his eyes. The blurry dot in his left obscured his view of Dante’s handsome face, and irritation licked the furnace the rest of his body had become. “Can you shift a bit?”
“Where to?”
“That way.” Sid inclined his head to the right. “I can’t see you.”
Dante’s frown deepened. He shifted right, then leaned closer and brought a careful hand to Sid’s face, his fingertips grazing Sid’s achy eye socket. “You’re not making much sense. Do you want me to get someone else?”
“No.”
“Okay. Do you want to get up or stay down here?”
“Cold tiles,” Sid said as if it explained everything.
Dante shot him a quizzical stare, then glanced at the floor and the flagstones Sid had crumpled to when his legs had decided they wouldn’t carry him to the bathroom. “I don’t understand. Are the tiles hurting you, or is the cold helping?”
“Hmm?”
Dante brought his electric gaze back to Sid. He stroked Sid’s cheekbone with the pad of his thumb. “Hey. Wake up.Sid.”
“I am awake.”
Dante’s worried gaze turned droll. “Of course you are.”
“I am.”
“Then speak. Tell me how to help you... please?”
Something buried deep inside Sid flung itself at the gentle plea in Dante’s low voice. It was so different to Anna’s fierce frustration.“Why do you have to be like this?” She kicked the pot housing Sid’s favourite Boston fern, cracking the old terracotta. “Why would you rather suffer alone than let me help you? You’re such a fucking man.”