Page 4 of For Your Heart
He doesn’t answer. For a long time, he just stares. Finally, he stumbles back toward his truck. My mother watches him drive away before shutting the door. She looks at me and frowns. Then beyond me to Declan. “Did he see?”
Declan shakes his head.
Mom sighs. “Good. Don’t tell him.”
I nod and bound down the stairs again. Declan follows and we gather snacks and drinks. Back in the bedroom, we find Simon right where we left him. His dark eyes turn our way, and he smiles a little more. For a minute, I can’t move as I just stare.
Stare at the boy laying in our bed.
Dropping the bags of snacks onto the table, I climb on and hover over him. His smile is still there. Still dancing. Finding me amusing.
“You okay?”
Now he’s even more amused. “Yeah. Why? Are you?”
Sighing, I nod. “Yeah, Simon. Everything’s good.”
* * *
I wake sweating.The room is still dark. Though I don’t look at my phone, I imagine it isn’t even past midnight yet. I’d be lucky if it was even eleven.
“What did you dream?” Declan asks quietly.
“Same thing you did,” I say because I can still feel the echoes of the memory running through his mind.
We never saw Simon’s father again. I’m not sure whether he took Mom’s threat to heart or maybe he just forgot about his son once more. Whatever the reason, he never came back. He never sought Simon out. Not even in the last five years since he’s become an adult.
I used to fume about his father missing out on his life. Simon’s such a fucking ray of sunshine. He’s always smiling. So easy going. Fucking happy.
No thanks to that man. I always wanted to find a way to shove it in his face that he fucked up, and yet, we were able to give Simon a happy childhood. We made him smile. We loved him so much that we rendered his father redundant.
Well, once we did. I’m not sure what he’d see if he looked at Simon now. I haven’t seen him smile like he used to in ages. He’s been tense for months.
We added to that instead of taking it away like we once did.
It’s Stommer’s fucking fault. If he wouldn’t have fucking barged into Simon’s life, then none of this would have happened. He’d still be happy. He’d still be in bed with us.
Declan coughs. “Fuck, Damon. You’re giving me a headache.”
Sighing, I turn so I can press my face into his neck. Let his scent surround me and maybe drown out my misery for a while. Or just drown me entirely.
“Stop,” he whispers, gently brushing his fingers through my hair. “We won’t leave each other. And we’re never leaving Simon. Don’t even think those things.”
“How do we get him home?” I ask. It’s not a question I expect an answer to. If we knew that, he’d already be here.
“I don’t know, but I suspect our anger isn’t a very hospitable environment. He won’t stay even if he comes back. Not until we…”
“Get over it,” I say, tone bitter. “How are we going to get over it?”
He snorts. “I don’t know,” Declan repeats. “Though I’d really like a fucking night’s sleep. I’m not opposed to drugs at this point.”
“Yes, let’s call the doctor and tell him the man we’ve been sleeping with for more than a decade is fed up with us and we can’t sleep without him. We need drugs to knock us out and keep us out for a solid eight hours.”
“I’d be happy with five at this point,” he mutters.
We’re lucky if we get five between us most nights. I swear, we alternate sleeping. When one sleeps, the other is awake. Listening to the dreams the first is having. Then we switch out after a brief commiserating moment shared between us.
“I don’t know how to stop hating him,” I say. “He took everything from us.”
