“Shi—what?” Niko said, also glancing at August’s hands. “It means something? I thought it was just a weird friendship bracelet.”
Quinn snickered while August fidgeted uncomfortably. He wasnothaving that conversation with Niko, thank you.
“Can I ask what made you take the pictures?” Haas asked.
The topic switch made August a little dizzy, but he would rather answer questions about trauma over kinks any day.
“I don’t know for sure if I took them,” August admitted. “But if I did, I wasn’t in my right mind to remember the reason.”
In the dream, August had gone home to visit his mother upon her request, to mourn the anniversary of his father’s passing. She would light a candle for him and say a prayer, and sometimes his friends would stop by for the big dinner she made in his honour.
August had just been drafted, and even though he loathed the thought of setting foot in that house, he had done it to keep his mother happy. He knelt and prayed with her, held her when she cried about beingalone, and listened to her talk fondly about her husband, conjuring memories that August couldn’t quite remember.
And after dinner, the man who used to coach him when he was a kid showed up to offer his condolences for another hard year without the wonderful man who raised him. He had patted August on the back like he was a proud parent and said,“See? I told you I would get you into the league, didn’t I?”
And August didn’t know why, but the man made him so sick that he ended up in the bathroom, puking his mother’s fancy dinner into the toilet. And for other reasons unknown, he had gone to the attic while his mother was distracted, and found the tin lunch box that had August’s name written on it.
He didn’t open it because he already knew what was in there—even if he couldn’t remember.
August had left the moment he was back downstairs, and his shoes were on. He hid the tin in his trunk and got into the car, and then drove the hour-long trip home in silence.
He had just bought his house, and it was still under construction, but no one was there when he pulled into the driveway late that night. He had a matinée game the next day, and August was exhausted, but he still went to the basement—into the back room—picked up his shovel and then started digging.
And digging.
And digging until blood was dribbling into the dirt as fast as his tears. Until his shoulders and arms ached from overuse, and his grip was shaky on the handle. Until he went deep enough to hide the damn shame his father had left him with, even though the hole could never go far enough unless he struck the core of the fucking Earth.
Deeper.
“August.”
Deeper.
“Stop.”
Deeper.
A loud clang shot through him like a bullet—or a grenade.
August opened his eyes, gasping as he blinked into the dimly lit room. He was on his knees in the dirt, bent over a hole that required the entire length of his arms and upper body to reach the bottom. His clothes were stuck to him with sweat, and he couldn’t breathe through his nose because of all the blood, and he didn’t know where he was—
Pain in his hand made him cry out and drop the shovel, and it fell into the dirt with a dull thud.
“We got you, Gusty. We’re right here.”
That was…Nollan talking. Nollan touching him—brushing his fingers through his soaked hair.
Gentle shaking to his right told him there was another person beside him, their arms wrapped so tightly around August’s torso that his ribs were groaning. A person whose silent sobs reminded him of Niko, but it was too dark to tell.
“Harder, Niko.”
Pain flared in his hand again at the same time Niko increased his grip, and then August was back inside his body—shaking, bloody, filthy and crying, but aware.
He looked down at his burning hand and saw Quinn to his left. He had untied the laces so he could draw them tighter, and the pain was rapidly anchoring August inside his soul once more. When he noticed he was being watched, Quinn lifted his gaze and gave him a warm smile, like he was proud of August’s latest episode.
“You did it—you fucking found it,” he said as he relaxed the laces. “How is the pain? Is your head hurting?”
Other than an annoying throb, he felt…okay.
