Page 34 of Shades of Henry
Lance went charging out the door, with the guys behind him, not thinking about what it would look like. When he got halfway down the stairs, he saw Henry, surrounded by policemen. Henry looked up and saw Lance and the guys—in their tighties, to a one, because fuck everything—and clapped his hand over his eyes.
Fuck.
Lance pulled to a screeching halt and turned around to Curtis, who was right behind him. “Okay, guys, someone go inside and call John and tell him we need Galen, stat.” Lance swallowed and looked out at the steaming pavement where Henry was being grilled like a trout. “Our boy’s gonna need some help.”
Ye Gods and Battered Fishes
HENRY COULDbarely drag himself up the porch.
God, what a day, and it wasn’t over yet. From hiring him a lawyer and a PI to help him with his case, to driving the PI all over the city looking into the facts, to seeing Martin Sampson’s body in the morgue—God, that moment sucked—to the fight he’d had with his private investigator because Henry was just that fucked-up and needy and he and Jackson Rivers, the PI, had started off on the wrong foot.
All of it had sucked. And right now, every ache, every bruise, every cut, was secondary to his dread of telling his brother why he was suspect number one in a murder investigation—because Henry had slept with Davy’s ex.
Henry knocked on their door after a day of holding back stupid, useless tears and feeling that awful helplessness that had been building since he’d shown up on David’s door. What was he supposed to do now? He had no purpose—except maybe to hang a murder rap on, because that was apparently what the universe wanted.
He had to rub his chest against a burning desire to see Lance, to see his eyes crinkle at the corners and that kind, patient look he got when the kids—erm, other residents of the apartment—were being particularly young and hormone-driven.
He wanted Lance to put his hand on the back of Henry’s neck, to squeeze his shoulder, to lower his lips to Henry’s own and….
Oh God. Oh hell. Not this now.Why would Lance even look at the guy who was about to be arrested for murder? Falsely arrested, yes. But Henry knew it was coming. Hislawyersknew it was coming. And his lawyer’s private investigator would probably just as soon kick him in the balls as make sure he was proven innocent. Henry couldn’t say he blamed the guy.
It was like all of the emotional bullshit Henry had been putting off since he’d gotten there had dropped on his head that morning when he’d looked into the dumpster and seen one of his most painful mistakes.
And he had to talk to Davidnow?
He could catch an Uber home. He was supposed to drop off Galen’s car and get a ride when Davy and Kane went to pick up Frances, but screw this! Henry pulled his hand back from the door and went to do an about-face, but Davy got there first. He flung the door open and grabbed Henry’s shoulders to shake him like an anxious parent.
“Are you okay?”
Henry swallowed hard and shook his head. “I’m sorry,” he said rustily. “I’m so sorry.” Because he had to have heard, right?
“Sorry about what?” Davy took a step back but kept a hand on his shoulder.
“Martin Sampson. Your ex-boyfriend. Sleeping with your ex-boyfriend.”
Davy’s eyes went wide, and then he shocked Henry by letting out a deep belly-laugh. “Really? You little rascal you. When did that happen?”
Henry scowled. “My first night. I was stupid—”
Davy sighed. “And scared and alone.” He stepped outside onto the porch, where the shade from the trees and the green of the lawn gave an illusion of coolness in what was really a miserable scorcher of a day. “Here,” he said, sitting down on the top porch step and patting the spot by his side. “Sit.”
Henry did, a little surprised, because inside the house was cool and comfortable—and it was the last place Henry wanted to be right now. It was like his big brother sensed this. He let the silence grow comfortable as they sat next to each other before Davy draped his arm over Henry’s shoulder.
Kane stepped out at that moment. “Oh, I’ll be inside—”
“Nope.” Davy looked over his shoulder, and what followed was this weird eyeball-conversation thing that Henry used to do with Malachi whenever they had a chance to have sex when they were on leave. Except this wasn’t about sex or deception. This read more like…
Kane:Are you sure you want me?
David:Yeah, he needs to know it’s both of us.
Kane:But Dexter!
David:He’s family, and we’re all he has.
Kane:Fine, but he’s still an asshole.
David:Yes, but he’s ours and I love him.
