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“Hitched.”

“What the fuck? At fourteen?”

“I was lucky. There was a young couple, probably in their twenties. They didn’t ask questions, just took me all the way to the city. It was where they were heading as well. I had eighty bucks left from the money Grandpa had given me as an allowance for doing jobs for him, like mowing the lawn. My parents didn’t know about it, and I had it on me when they kicked me out.”

“Did you go anywhere for help?”

“Where could I go? I was a minor. If I’d gone to the authorities, or anywhere official, even a charity, I’d have been put into care. I’d heard enough about what went on in those places, and after my uncle, there was no way I was taking the risk.”

Mason could understand that, but he tried to imagine what a fourteen-year-old Zeb would have been like, first arriving in the city. He then explained how he’d begged on the streets and befriended the other kids. The queer kids seem to gravitate toward each other, many of them on the streets for the same reason as Zeb. When he explained how he’d gotten into hustling and the guy he was with first, Mason felt jealous. How messed up was that? It was the way Zeb described it, almost romanticizing the experience. Mason also felt pathological rage. It didn’t matter that the guy had shown some care and kindness; Zeb had been fourteen when it had happened. The guy was a pedophile and was also on Mason’s list, although he didn’t know how he’d find him.

“Oh my God,” said Zeb.

“What?” asked Mason, reaching for Zeb’s hand.

“You want to track that guy down, don’t you?”

“No.”

“I thought we weren’t gonna lie to each other.”

“Fair. I just want to punish anyone who’s hurt you, which I know sounds possessive and that’s the last thing you need from another guy, but I can’t help myself with you.”

“Well, I find it sexy.”

“What?”

“It feels protective, not possessive.”

“That’s what Leo said.”

“Your brother? When did he say that?”

“When he was telling me to pull my head out of my ass with you.”

“Well, I always thought he was the smarter brother.”

Mason glared at Zeb, but there was no heat in it, and he couldn’t stop himself from smiling.

“Why don’t we have some dessert, and then you can carry on?”

“Can we do the rest tomorrow? You know it all anyway.”

Mason wasn’t sure he knew it all, just the edited highlights, but he agreed. This was Zeb’s story, so he was in charge here. He leaned over and gave Zeb a quick kiss, stroking his face. He then headed to the kitchen. Dessert was homemade ice cream. Yes, he could have made something more extravagant, but Zeb loved it, so that’s what he was getting. He played over what he’d learned tonight about Zeb’s past, and yes, it made him angry. For his own parents to do that to him was barbaric. As for that perverted uncle. It was lucky for him he was already dead. One thing hadn’t changed, though, and that was Mason’s love for Zeb. That had only grown stronger.

“What are you looking for?” asked Mason.

Zeb was on his knees, which he loved to see, but he was rummaging in the bedside drawer. A glance at the other side, which hadn’t been closed properly, showed he’d been looking there as well. What Alison had said earlier made sense.

“Nothing,” he stammered. “I was just looking for . . .” He trailed off, looking sheepish.

Mason walked over to the wardrobe and took out the box he’d put there yesterday, and tipped the contents onto the bed. Zeb’s eyes widened as he saw the two giant bottles of lube, three dozen condoms, the dildos, plugs, and handcuffs. Mason struggled to keep his expression neutral.

“Something you want to tell me?”

“I didn’t . . . I didn’t ask for . . . what the fuck is this?” he said, holding up a dildo that resembled a cactus.

Mason couldn’t hold the laughter in any longer. Zeb looked surprised for a second before glaring and then laughing himself.