Page 37 of Shotgun Daddy
“Same,” Michael said. “Benjamin needs me tonight. If this is the end, I’m not leaving without telling him what he means to me. We’ve got a couple hours before we move. It’s enough time.”
Faustino could feel the tension rising inside him. Both Matteo and Faustino were in their Forever relationships. Everything for them was settled, there was no questions about whether or not they should see they’re boys.
Matteo’s eyes shifted to Faustino, softer now, searching.
“You should do the same, Faustino.,’ Matteo said. “Reece is your boy, argument or not. Go to him. Show him why he’s… you know.”
Faustino’s chest tightened and his heart thumped. As he stared at the floor, the rain’s roar filled the silence as his mind turned over all the possibilities.
“He doesn’t want to see me,” Faustino said finally, his voice low and strained. “He told me he’s done. You know… wants out. Reece never wants me near him again. He blames me for the shit that’s hit him, and he’s not wrong. That shot today? Could’ve been his last breath because of me.”
Michael frowned, sitting up.
“You think he meant it?” Michael asked. “People say shit when they’re scared, brother. Doesn’t always mean it’s true.”
“Maybe,” Faustino muttered, running a hand through his still damp hair. “But he was crystal clear, you know? I’d be an asshole to ignore that and barge in when he’s made up his mind.”
Faustino paused, the memory of Justin’s tragic death flashing across his mind once more, for what was probably the ten thousandth time.
“And maybe he’s better off without me. Safer,” Faustino said, his voice low and serious. “The last boy I loved ended up dead because of this so-called life we lead. I can’t let that happen again.”
Faustino sighed and felt his shoulders momentarily relax before stiffening up with tension once more.
Matteo crossed the room, stopping in front of Faustino, his voice firm but full of compassion too.
“You’re not wrong. This life is dangerous,” Matteo said. “But if this is it, Faustino… if we don’t make it through… you’ll regret not seeing him one last time. Go. Tell him how you feel, even if it’s one last goodbye. You might not get that chance back.”
Faustino couldn’t bring himself to speak. He pictured Reece curled up with Squirt, his soft snores, the way he’d looked at him on that rooftop, trusting and bright. Faustino knew that he loved the boy, more than he’d let himself admit, and the thought of dying without him knowing clawed at him.
But Reece had drawn a line, and crossing it felt like betrayal, disrespecting the one thing he’d asked of him. And yet. This could be the end. No second chances, no do-overs. If Faustino went to the boy now, he could say what he needed, tell Reece he was his world, that he’d let him go if it kept him safe, and then walk away, maybe for good – but at least knowing that his darling Little knew how much he cared for him.
I know what I need to do.
It won’t be easy.
But I’ve got no choice. This isn’t about me…
Faustino stood, the chair creaking as he grabbed his jacket, the leather cold and wet against his skin.
“I’ll think about it,” Faustino said, his voice gruff. “You two go to your boys. I’ll meet you back here when it’s time to move. We end thistogether. Win or lose.”
Michael patted Faustino on the shoulder, a rare softness in his eyes.
“Don’t overthink it, brother,” Michael said. “Just do what feels right.”
Matteo nodded, finishing his whisky with a grimace.
“We’ve got a war to fight.” Matteo said, his voice a low growl. “Make your peace first.”
Faustino didn’t reply. Instead, he simply stepped into the hall as the elevator dinged open.
The rain still pounded the windows, a relentless drumbeat that matched the storm in his head. Faustino rode down alone, the hum of the lift’s corny music a quiet contrast to his racing thoughts.
Reece’s face haunted him… angry, tearful… but beneath it, the boy he’d held, the Little he’d sworn to protect.
Faustino wanted to respect his sweet boy’s wishes, let him walk free of his chaos, but the pull to see him one last time pulled at him even harder with each passing moment.
As he stepped into the lobby, Faustino felt the world’s weight on his shoulders.
