“Can I stay?” Dillon chuckled. “I need to get the dogs in, but then I can stretch out with you.”
“Please. There’s nothing I need more.”
“I’ll be right back.” Dillon eased Coke down on the bed and helped get his boots off. The dogs came when Dillon whistled, settling around him while Dillon put the food away.
Coke managed to wait for his cowboy to come back, but just barely. He was wore to the bone. As soon as Dillon’s weight pressed down against him, holding Coke down so his legs wouldn’t kick, he dropped into sleep like a stone in deep water.
He could lay all his worry aside, at least for now.
Chapter Thirty-Three
Dillon lay there with Coke and dozed for a good while. Then he slipped out of bed, fed the beasts, texted Nate and Tag and Beau, and grabbed a granola bar.
He needed to move. To bounce so he could process everything.
What the ever-loving fuck? What. The. Ever-loving. Fuck!
Dillon scrubbed the counters in the kitchenette, even though he wanted to wash the couch. That might wake Coke.
His chest felt so tight. Who did that to their kid?
Who would…? Coke was…
God, he wanted to hurt someone. Scream. Anything but just take it. Coke, he was just so accepting, as if he deserved everything his damned family had put on him.
He wanted to go back in time and just… Argh. Kick some ass.
What the hell was in this glass? He scrubbed it, trying to get the goo out.
No wonder Coke had such immense pressure to save everyone.
“Hey, cowboy. You okay?” Coke’s voice sounded blown.
“I am. I’m scrubbing this thing.” He grinned over his shoulder.
“No one’s been here in months, maybe even a couple of years.”
“I’m just taking out my ire on gunk.” When Coke didn’t answer, he glanced back again. “Your parents, babe. I have rage against them.”
It fucking killed him that Coke was so fucking confused.
He washed his hands off, dried them on a towel, then headed over to Coke to put his hands on Coke’s shoulders. “I love you.”
“Well, that’s good, given that I love you.”
“Yep. Boudreaux is corrupting the bassets, by the way. Uh, Beau and Sam will come get him, right?”
“Yeah. They’re letting us make up.”
“Are they?” Dillon cackled, his belly laugh surprising him. “They’re good guys. So, does this mean I have to yell at you so we can really have something to make up for?”
“I think I’m the one in the wrong, here, cowboy.”
“Mmm. That’s what I mean.” He kissed Coke’s chin before he walked to the fridge and pulled out an orange juice. “Drink up and I will shout at you for running off on me.”
“I didn’t try to.”
Dillon knew that. That was even scarier.
