“Dad, wait.” Footsteps hurry up behind us, and then Graham is pushing his way through. “I’ll go with you.” Graham glances at me and, damn, the asshole really knows how to destroy his sons. Those hazel eyes are heavy with defeat. With apology. He looks back at his dad. “I’ll go, but you have to promise to leave them alone.”
“What did they do to you?” His gaze flicks from Frankie to Shane.
There’s accusation burning in that stare, and I might not know the specific charges, but I know they’re ugly. This level of hate—for hisown kin—has me lost for words. Has me lost.
“Dad. What the hell! They’ve been nothing but nice to me.” He pushes at his dad. “I’ll come home. Please. Leave them alone, and let’s just go.”
“We’ll see about that.” But Graham’s dad steps back.
I place my hand on Graham’s shoulder, and he quickly turns toward me. “You don’t have to go with him. You’re eighteen. You know you’re welcome here.”
Graham’s eyes say everything. He gives an almostimperceptible shake of his head. There is no choice here. He has to go. His gaze locks on Shane’s, and his eyes well. “I’m sorry,” he mouths.
Shane is stone-still; those expressive blue eyes vacant. He doesn’t even register his brother’s apology.
“Go,” I whisper.
He swallows and nods, then steps out and past his dad.
Graham’s dad’s attention falls on Shane again. “Come near my son again, and it won’t be just you and your disgustingfriendsyou need to worry about.” He spins on his heel and follows Graham.
My body goes up in flames. The fucking audacity of that prick. In one sentence, he disowned his son, smeared the queer community, and issued a threat—one that I think was directed toward Shane’s mother.
“Holy. Fucking. Shit!” Frankie bites out. “That man is the lowest level of scum. I need to go hit something. Becauserage.” He ends on a growl and turns. “Shaney—Shane?”
I shift from where I’d been glaring at the front door—to face the empty space between me and Frankie. My attention snaps to Frankie. “Where’d he go?”
Frankie shakes his head, having no answer. My gaze catches on Frankie’s trembling hands. “You okay, Frank?”
He sends me a weak smile. “Besides feeling like I’m going to vomit?”
Yeah. I get it. Facing a person’s hate is debilitating. When someone attacks who you are—when they decide you don’t deserve to exist—hate like that doesn’t just hurt. I don’t think there are words strong enough for the pain it leaves behind. But I also know I don’t experience half of what Frankie does. Frankie’s out in a way the world sees. I can hide in ways he can’t.
I quickly duck into Shane’s bedroom, but it’s empty. Shit. My blood shakes in my veins. I have this bone-deep need to get to him. Immediately. I rush through the kitchen—no Shane. To the living room—everyone there but Shane.
“He went upstairs,” Easton says.
I’m already on my way up the stairs, taking them two at a time, before East even finishes. When I get to the landing, the bathroom door is wide open, and I doubt he’d have gone into the others’ rooms. I push open the balcony door.
And there he is.
Huddled on the wooden decking against the wall, rain beating down on him.
My Sunshine—not a ray of light to be found.
The cold rain seeps into my skin, penetrating all the way to my core. I blink past the rain and settle next to him. He doesn’t react.
“Shane,” I say softly, and it gets lost in the downpour.
“Maybe this was the reason all along.” His hoarse words are barely audible. “The reason he left. He knew this was in me all along. He knew there was something wrong with me.”
My heart stalls.No.I reach for him. I need him to know how flawed that thinking is. How wrong?—
He jerks away from me, physically shuffles to the side, and creates more distance. Pain slices through me, tiny cuts perforating my lungs, making it hard to breathe. Fuck. I draw in a slow breath. I couldn’t have ever expected that to hurt as much as it did. It shows how far gone I really am for him. Too far.
“I’m sorry.” His words are so small, so lost, that more of my heart breaks for him.
Not just breaks. It shatters me. It shatters me to see theman who dove so enthusiastically into this new side of himself, now full of doubts, of regret. It was something I admired so much about him. And his father has tainted it.
