That was Chad’s favorite spot.
He seemed to find some kind of peace gazing out at the waves.
But he wasn’t on the balcony when Romeo looked.
Romeo slipped off the rock.He whistled for Mercutio who came to his side, having retrieved his ball.
“Let’s go find dad.”
Mercutio took off first, clambering up the metal steps, tail a blur as he hurried to find Chad.Romeo followed, just as eager, but with not nearly as many tells.
He ran his hand up the rail as he took each step.It was early October, not cold as such, but definitely not warm.Most of their time had been spent inside the cottage, occasionally strolling out to walk Mercutio and make their way hand in hand up the beach.
Romeo had banned Chad from using his phone other than to check in with Ally and Josh.They didn’t watch the news, but snuggled up to Netflix, and they bought their food in advance so Chad wouldn’t be potentially recognized in the supermarket.
The press and public were brutal, and Romeo knew he couldn’t keep Chad from them forever.He’d hoped the detox of negative influences would do Chad good, but Romeo couldn’t protect Chad from himself and whatever thoughts and memories swirled in his mind.
He zoned out to them, but usually a snap of his name brought him back to Romeo, startled and apologetic.
Chad paced at odd hours, and if Romeo wasn’t careful, he lost sight of him, having woken to an empty bed as least once a night.There were bags beneath Chad’s eyes, and he walked around with a slumped posture.If Romeo had to describe it, he would’ve said Chad looked defeated.
Romeo’s gut knotted and he hesitated on the top step.He took a deep breath.They had been defeated.Vincent Whitehall had beaten them in his twisted game and had taken from Chad.He’d taken the detective away from him, and Chad looked lost knowing that part of himself was gone.
He’d never be a detective again.
Romeo should’ve realized a serial killer of Vincent Whitehall’s caliber would have an ace up his sleeve, he was the gold standard and had proved it to his last breath.
Romeo should’ve known.
Like he should’ve known about the magpies.
He had failed to protect Chad, and he’d failed to protect them too.
Mercutio waited for him by the front door.
“Good boy,” Romeo touched his head, then opened the side door into the cottage.The smell of roasting potatoes wrapped around them.
It was open plan.
Cozy, the ad had described it as, which meant small but clean and well kept.
Over the kitchen counter, Romeo saw Chad crashed out on the corner sofa.He lay on his side, with one hand beneath his cheek and the other curled towards his chest clutching the TV remote.
His skin was pale, except for the purplish tint beneath his shut eyes.
Romeo slipped off his shoes and checked the oven.He grabbed the oven mitts, gave the pan inside a quick shake, then shut the door on the potatoes.The tinfoil covered beef was resting on the side, and a fresh salsa Romeo had prepared waited in the fridge.
At some point, he’d started to enjoy cooking.He hadn’t before.Before he made food with no passion, needing only to fuel his body for the next day, but with Chad, he started to like it, love it even.It was homey and domestic and not influenced by the dark thoughts in his head.It was more than a hobby, and it helped that he was good at it.With their situation, he couldn't be the one with the stable job who provided for them, but he could take care of Chad and be the best house husband possible.
He smiled at the term.House husband.
Romeo crossed the room to get to Chad.He pulled a blanket off the back of the sofa and lay it on Chad before slipping the TV remote from his lax hand and placing it on the coffee table.
Mercutio dropped his ball to whine softly.
“I know,” Romeo whispered.“But he’s going to be okay.We’ll make sure of it.”
They would be okay.Romeo knew it like he knew the sun would rise the next morning.
