“You too.”
Dom relayed the news to Trey and his dad. The latter went to tell Mrs. Sumpter about the incoming guests, while the former hugged Dom from behind. “What were you thinking about so hard before?” Dom asked.
“Nothing for you to worry about right now.” Trey kissed the side of his neck. “Listen, I’m going to go home for a shower and a change of clothes. With daytime traffic, it might be two hours or so before I’m back. What can I bring you?”
“Something I can wear?” Dom’s clothes from the accident had dirt and blood on them, and after his shower Mrs. Sumpter had given him an oversize Phillies T-shirt and pair of running shorts that kept sliding off his hips. He’d have trouble keeping them up if he wore that outfit back to the hospital.
“Definitely. Anything else?”
“Just you.” Dom twisted his neck to press his lips to Trey’s. “Thank you.”
“Always. I’m sorry about this last month.”
“So am I. Forgiven and forgotten.”
“Ditto.” Trey deepened their second kiss, taking long enough to put the taste of him back on Dom’s tongue. “Try to sleep some more, and I’ll be back before you know it.”
“Be safe.”
“I will. Look at me driving again. You’re a good influence, Dominic Bounds.”
Dom grinned. “You’re the one who was strong enough to get behind the wheel. I’m proud of you.”
Trey beamed, pecked his cheek, and then untangled their limbs. He bounced off the bed. “Things are going to work out, Dom.”
“Hope so.”
He stretched back out on the bed after Trey left, already missing him but aware that the separation would be relatively brief.
Trey was coming back to him.
Napping turned out to be a wasted effort, so Dom eventually got up and wandered around the small beach house owned by Mrs. Sumpter. She was an elderly woman, widowed, who’d been a college professor and mentor for his dad, and they’d stayed in contact throughout the years. She had quite a large extended family, judging by the framed photos all over the walls, and she lived in an eclectic home a block from the Lewes and Rehoboth Canal.
He found her at the kitchen table playing cards with his dad.
“Can I get you something to drink?” she asked, already standing.
“Water is fine.”
She fetched a glass and filled it from a pitcher in the fridge. “Help yourself to more, dear.” Wrinkled fingers brushed his forehead. “Oh my, that’s quite the bruise.”
“I was lucky.” Of all his friends, Dom had been the farthest from the impact. He’d been stupidly lucky, getting out of that mangled car with only minor injuries. Memories of hauling first Benji and then Tyson out of the car, but not being able to get to Lincoln or Joshua, assaulted him. The smell of motor oil and gasoline and asphalt, thick in the humid summer air. Seeing his best friend bleeding and unconscious, and recalling what Trey had said about the last time he’d seen Allison.
A severed hand.
Dom registered the hard kitchen floor beneath his ass, uncertain when he’d sat down until he noticed his dad squatting next to him.
Panic attack.
Dad pressed the water glass against his lips and Dom obediently sipped. His heart was racing and his skin was clammy, and he sort of wanted to hurl. Dad put the glass down, and then started rubbing circles on Dom’s back. “Where were you?” he asked.
“The accident.” Dom shivered. “I haven’t really thought about it, except as this crazy blur, until right now. It all hit me at once.”
“I imagine it was pretty terrifying.”
“It was. I mean, the highway was empty, and then someone was pulling out onto the road from the right side. Either they didn’t see us, or they thought we were in the left lane, because suddenly headlights were shining in the side of the car. I think they clipped us right when Lincoln tried to jerk the wheel, and we spun out.”
He’d told the same thing to the police at the scene. He had no idea if they’d ever catch the asshole who sent them intoa telephone pole and ran. Dom hadn’t really seen the second vehicle. The only thing he remembered was higher headlights, which meant probably an SUV or truck, rather than a sedan.
