Felix
Yes, sugar and alcohol.
Adam
Why can you give him alcohol but I can’t?
Felix
Family privilege.
Adam
He is my family.
Zane
He’s your future spouse. He’s our brother.
Why was Adam arguing about this?
Just fucking hurry.
He dropped his phone onto the mattress behind Noah then snuggled him closer, kissing the top of his head, smiling when Noah made a happy little noise in his sleep. He would be okay. Adam didn’t know what to do but the others did.
The family would always take care of Noah.
Always.
Noah was dreaming. He knew he was dreaming in the way most people did. The ominous sense of dread in a realistic situation. The way the laws of physics no longer seemed to apply to the world around him. That didn’t stop the dream from being anymore horrifying. It was the same dream, over and over again, but it never made it easier. If anything, it made it worse because he knew what came next.
Wayne Holt, standing in a tux, holding his hand out to Noah like he was waiting to walk him down the aisle. On Adam’s side of the church, the pews were overflowing, his brothers and their significant others stood behind him in front.
But on Noah’s side there were no friends, no family. Only the endless supply of men who’d abused him. Some he knew, some were faceless shadows wearing clothing his brain had somehow salvaged and pieced together from the scraps of his memories. He wanted to vomit. He wanted to wake up. He wanted to run but just like always, he held out his hand because it was better than the alternative.
“Dexter!”
Noah’s eyes flew open, bolting upright, head on a swivel, half expecting to find Holt somewhere in his room. But there was nobody. Well, not nobody. Dexter—formerly named Lightning—was curled against his back on top of the sheet, snoring loud enough to shake Noah with each inhalation.
When Dexter didn’t respond to Adam’s yell from downstairs, he tried again, “Come on, you gassy fuck. Let’s go.” Still, the dog didn’t move. Finally, Adam yelled, “Walk?”
Dexter snorted himself awake, then stretched. A vile stench soon followed. “Uh, what is wrong with you?”
Noah loved Dexter. He loved him almost as much as he loved Adam, but they called him Dexter because he looked benign, but his gas was lethal. He had a digestion problem that not even the world’s most expensive vets could fix. Noah watched as Dexter waddled to the ramp and waddled his chunky butt to the floor, belching like a frat boy after a keg stand.
Noah grimaced. “You’re so gross, bro.”
“That’s rude,” Felix said, cresting the stairs to their bedroom, Zane hot on his heels. Noah was equal parts relieved and unhappy to see them. Felix was in sweatpants and a tank top, which meant Adam had called in reinforcements. Felix never left the house in sweatpants—even if they were Gucci sweatpants— unless there was an emergency. Which explained Adam’s impromptu dog walking excursion. He was running away.
Coward.
Felix had shopping bags in each hand, which sent Dexter into a sniffing frenzy. Felix made a face, doing his best to avoid the dog. “Yes, you’re very cute, but really stinky and this is couture,” he told the dog, skirting around him.
Zane clearly didn’t care about his jeans and t-shirt. He dropped to his knees to give Dexter all the butt scratches, before Adam shouted for Dexter once more and Zane was forced to abandon the dog as he lumbered slowly down the stairs.
“How do you smell worse literally every single day?” Noah heard Adam ask the dog, tone conversational, before calling out, “We’ll be back…later. Love you.”
“Love you, too,” Noah shouted back.
