Until now.
No, of course I won’t do that to the boy. I want him to have the best of me, not the worst.
Hell, maybe now I’m getting a glimpse of why some guys are totally into the Daddy/boy dynamic.
I could be, too, if Jordan was mine.
Please, let him be mine.
* * * *
The concert lasts until after midnight, but I don’t even care. Once the second encore ends and the house lights come up, I lace fingers with Jordan and we follow everyone downstairs so we can make our exit.
Again, something else I’ve never been able to do with Elliot. Never walked holding hands with him in public.
It’s been years since I’ve been able to have any kind of PDA with a guy, and damned if I didn’t realize how much I missed it before.
Life is fucking lonely, man.
Maybe Elliot wants to live like this, but tonight’s shown me that I don’t. Ican’t. If Jordan’s honestly willing to let me be poly with him and Elliot, then this is going to be my life going forward.
If I can talk Jordan into staying in DC and not returning to Florida.
Not even going to lie, I’m already running through ideas for that in my head.
We make it as far as the lobby when I hear something from outside that makes my blood run cold: tires squealing, and angry shouts cutting through the din of the crowd noise.
As my instincts and training kick in, when the gunshots split the night I’m already pulling Jordan back toward the auditorium doors with one hand and reaching for a sidearm I don’t have with the other.
Adrenaline spikes through my system. I go big, putting myself between Jordan and the throng of people flooding back inside the lobby and charging toward the auditorium doors. I’m shoving Jordan in front of me and reach around him to yank the door open so we can race through it.
Behind us, there’s a screaming, panicked stampede of terrified people. I realize it’s probably a drive-by, not a coordinated attack, as I suddenly remember the gang members I saw earlier.
Likehellam I going out there. I’m not armed, and I have to protect my boy.
I remember where the back entrance is from my earlier search and I practically carry him in that direction. This all happens in the space of less than ten seconds, maybe not even five.
“Keep your head down and don’t look back!” I yell at him when he stumbles as he tries to look behind us. He won’t fall, because I’ve got an arm around him. Hell, I’ll carry him, if I have to.
I hear two more shots behind us out front and pray I’ve guessed correctly about this being a gang thing and not a terrorist thing. Otherwise, we could be running into a trap. But I’m damn sure not going upstairs, because there is no fucking cover and we’d be sitting ducks.
I hit the bar on the emergency door shoulder-first at a dead run, taking the brunt of the impact and shielding Jordan from it. I also want my body between him and whatever’s outside, in case I’ve guessed wrong.
Outside, the air feels frigid, even colder than earlier. We emerge in a side alley. While I see people running away from the theater, I don’t see any cars.
Or, more importantly, any shooters.
I get my bearings and take off running in the other direction, forcing Jordan along with me. I want to cut over two streets, back to a main street where I can grab us a cab, or at the very least find an open business to retreat into and order a ride share.
My world shrinks and time slows as we pound down the sidewalk. Sirens wail all around, bouncing off the houses and buildings, but I wait to slow our stride until we emerge right where I thought we’d be. Jordan keeps up with me without any problem.
I finally stop and pull us into a doorway of a closed store to check Jordan over and catch our breaths. My leg is fucking killing me but, right now, it’s registering as a secondary annoyance. “Are you all right?”
He numbly nods, his eyes wide with terror. “Are we safe here?”
I pull him in for a desperate hug. “Yeah, boy. We’re safe here.” I only allow us this for a moment, and my head’s on a swivel the entire time.
You know, there was a time in my life when I would have runtowardtrouble. It was kind of myjob.
