Page 7 of Stay A Little Longer
“Yeah, a mistake.” The guy, Lance, nodded as his smile hitched up higher on one side, “It sounds like Lemon meant to send you to Seth’s trailer, which is the one just on the other side of the driveway.”
“What?”
“The trailer that sits opposite this one? Seth Lowry owns it.”
Trent scrubbed a hand over his face, “This isn’t his trailer?”
“Uh, no. This is my place.”
“Right. You said that. Sorry, I’m kind of a mess. This is your place. And you’re Lance.”
That grin kicked up again, “Yeah, Lance Nichols.”
He was still trying to piece all of this together, “And you work with Shane? Lemon’s fiancé?”
“Yeah, I’m a deputy with the Fate Sheriff’s office.”
“You’re a deputy.” Something Lance had said clicked in his head and he sucked in a rattled breath, “You could have shot me. You said you’d shoot me if I moved and I thought you were just being… You have a gun?”
He felt a little lightheaded at the thought. He’d stumbled into the wrong trailer because he was exhausted and because Lemon’s drop pin had been less than helpful once he entered the trailer park. He’d gone into another man’s home, slept in his bed and he could have been shot for it. His life had been in danger and he hadn’t even known it.
Guns. A gun. This guy had a gun. Trent felt a wave of nausea hit him. He didn’t like guns. Not at all. He may have grown up in the country, in Texas, but he wasn’t a gun guy. He never had been but he hadn’t grown up afraid of them either. The panic that hit him at the mere thought of a gun had stemmed from an event in his life he wished he could forget. He didn’t like guns and there was one here, in this trailer, and this man, this stranger, could have used it to kill him while Trent was sleeping and he never would have even known it was coming.
“Woah, hey…” Suddenly there were two warm hands on his upper arms and when he focused again Lance was standing directly in front of him. The boyish smile was gone now. Worried eyes darted over his face, “Easy man, you’re not in any danger here.”
Trent swallowed but the lump in his throat made his voice crack, “G-Gun?”
“It’s in the kitchen. I don’t have it on me.” Those dark eyes met his and held him there firmly, dragging him out of his past and back into the present, “I’m not gonna hurt you.”
Logically, Trent knew that. This man didn’t strike him as a threat. Even if he had punched him not five minutes ago. Lance lived in Fate. He worked with Shane. Lemon knew Trent was here. This guy wouldn’t harm him. But his brain wasn’t firing on all cylinders, it had been a long day, he’d just been outed and he’d seen the judgement and then the disgust on the faces of people he’d thought were his friends, so the words tumbled out unchecked before he could manage to strangle them.
“I’m gay.”
Those dark eyes widened but the hands that were still holding his arms, holding him steady, only tightened fractionally and a confused look crossed that handsome face before his brows knit together, “Okay man, you should sit down. You look like you’re about to collapse.”
Trent let the other guy guide him back towards the bed because his legs did feel rubbery. He hadn’t heard him. Lance must not have heard him. That was the only explanation for why he wasn’t getting the shit beat out of him right now.
Right?
“Sit.” Lance ordered in a firm voice and Trent collapsed down onto the edge of the bed.
“I… I… I…” He started.
“Is this about the gun?”
He jerked his eyes up and felt a shiver of fear trickle down his spine again. That word always gave him a bad feeling. He could see the worry on Lance’s face when he nodded.
“Okay. Hold on.”
Lance released his grip on Trent’s arms and stepped away from him. A rush of cold air hit him, and Trent shivered again. He didn’t like losing that touch. There was something reassuring in it. But then, he wasn’t supposed to trust this guy who was a complete stranger.
Was he?
The dark-haired man disappeared into the dark hallway and Trent’s confused mind flipped back over. Where was he going? He’d said this was his trailer and.. a tall figure reemerged through the darkness, stepping back into the bedroom and Trent’s breath caught in his chest.
“Son of a…” He scrambled backwards at the sight of the sleek black gun in the other man’s hand.
“Easy. Easy.” Lance hurried across the room, not towards him, “I’m just going to lock it up. That way you don’t have to worry about it. Okay?”
