“Drink.” Coke needed some sugar, some liquid. “I get that, which is why I’m so upset. It’s instinct for you, and I need you to start thinking of me as part of the go-kit, babe.”
He kept touching, his hands needing to feel Coke, to know that they were connected. Dillon figured it would be days before the panic of Coke disappearing faded. Maybe weeks.
“I didn’t think I could bear it, seeing you ashamed of me.”
That’s what Nate had said. Tag, too. Dillon didn’t think that was possible. So he turned the idea back on Coke. “Were you ashamed of me, even when I was in the shower with David and you thought I was going back to him?”
“Never. My feelings were hurt, more than anything, but you love someone and want them to be happy.”
“See?” He poked Coke’s chest with one finger. “So, what do you do now when something freaks you out?”
“Grab you and run.”
“Yes!” He did a little victory dance. “That’s my bullfighter.”
“You butthead.” Coke rolled his eyes and blushed, but there was the ghost of a smile there, a real one that was just for him.
“Kiss me, babe. Then I’ll heat us up some food.”
Coke leaned in and kissed him, the pressure firm and heated, just enough to prove that Coke wanted him. It wasn’t about sex. It was about being people.
He was Coke’s people. Coke’s family. Coke’s clown.
That was the most important thing in his life now and Dillon wasn’t giving it up without a hell of a fight.
Oh, fuck that. Dillon wasn’t giving it up. Full stop. Coke Pharris was his, balls to bones. He’d fight anyone he had to in order to keep his man.
Even Coke.
Chapter Thirty-Four
Coke felt like a long-tailed cat in a room full of rocking chairs. He kept glancing at Dillon, trying to figure out whether Dillon understood, got the horror of who he was, what he was.
He had the sneaking suspicion that Dillon didn’t care. No, sir, his cowboy insisted on only seeing the good in him, in smiling at him when he glanced that direction.
Dillon leaned into him as they did the dishes, touched him as they fed dogs. No hesitation. No worry that Coke could see. Dill just couldn’t believe he’d ever done wrong.
God,he prayed.Let me deserve this. Let me be a good man.
“You’re thinking hard, babe. Want to tell me?” Dillon touched his cheek, surprising him by being right there again.
“I’m just thinking about how lucky I am that you aren’t looking at me like I’m a monster.” Because he deserved it. He buried Anthony—both in the sea and in his soul.
“Lucky?” Dillon shook his head. “You’re not a monster and never have been.”
He wasn’t sure about that. He’d seen unspeakable things, survived them. “I just keep praying that I make up for our sins.”
Now Dillon was frowning at him. “No. You pray for yours, sure. You’ve done enough to make up for someone else’s. You went to jail for him, for fuck’s sake.”
“They didn’t think he was strong enough.” Anthony hadn’t been. Not that it mattered in the long run.
“So?” Dillon put his hands on his hips, chin all jutting out. “They had no right to do that to you. You were a kid! You couldn’t even say no. That was fucked up.”
“Yeah.” And it had hurt more than anything than he had been able to imagine then. His brain was a lot sharper now. “It was.”
He reached out, not sure if Dillon wanted comfort or not.
Dillon came to him, hands on his chest. “I want to go beat them, babe. Your folks.”
