Total pages in book: 89
Estimated words: 82896 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 414(@200wpm)___ 332(@250wpm)___ 276(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 82896 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 414(@200wpm)___ 332(@250wpm)___ 276(@300wpm)
“Drake! What the fuck?” Tank inhaled so deeply he wheezed. “Put the gun away, okay? I hear you. Apollo made you do it, right? That’s the only reason you did what you did. So it’s not your fault. It’s not. I wish you’d told me sooner. I didn’t want to prod. Just put the gun away.”
Tank. So tough yet always ready to make excuses for those around him. Of course he was denying the obvious. “I care about Clover. About you. I—” His voice broke despite the absolute certainty that he was making the right decision. Tank had helped him out of Hell, but all Drake gave back was heartbreak. “You will all be better off without me. I made him go with me. It’s all my fault.”
Tank raised his hands but didn’t dare take a step closer. “I was there that night we argued. Clover wanted to go as much as you.” He swallowed and took a deep breath. “What you did under duress… I’m sure the alternatives were worse? I know you. If you had options, you would have taken ten times worse for our boy.”
Drake’s breathing evened out, but his heart rushed even faster, making the cool touch of steel against flesh a relief from the heat it produced. “Why are you making excuses for me?” he whispered, fighting the sting in his eyes. “I hurt him. That’s all you should know.”
Tank took a tentative step forward. “If you broke his arm by accident, you would have to apologize, but it’s not like doing it on purpose. Drake, please… I love you, man. Don’t do anything stupid. We need you here.”
The trailer door opened, and Clover came out in fast steps, still just in his T-shirt and briefs. “Drake? Tank? What’s going on?” Eyes wide, he stared at them, but approached like a bullet that wouldn’t be stopped.
Drake froze, his gaze stuck on the sheer power behind those blue eyes. He couldn’t blow his brains out in front of Clover. He’d made him suffer enough already. “No. No, go back.”
Instead of listening, Clover ran. So fucking typical. He never listened.
The boy didn’t stop until he slammed into Drake and hugged him tight, one hand pulling the gun down. “No! What are you doing?” he whined, and the heat he exuded seared Drake’s skin even through clothes. He didn’t deserve to smell Clover, let alone touch him.
Tears spilled down his cheeks and dropped into Clover’s blond hair. He knew he should’ve pulled away but couldn’t make himself push the boy, so he stayed still, lowering his head so Tank wouldn’t see him crumble.
But Tank was already there. Drake stifled a sob when strong hands took the gun from him and put on the safety with a loud click.
“What the hell is happening?” Clover whined clenching his hands on the back of Drake’s T-shirt, as if he weren’t hugging a monster.
“Drake told me what happened. With you. At Apollo’s,” Tank said in a quiet voice, but steady as a rock.
Clover stilled.
Drake remained silent too, focused on the pain in his dislocated joint. He didn’t want to go through this again. But even that was taken from him when Tank took his injured hand and popped the thumb into place. Drake didn’t have the strength to fight his care, much less so when his warm fingers lingered, squeezing Drake with a gentleness he didn’t deserve.
“You both deserve better.”
Clover backed away to look into Drake’s eyes. The blue of his irises had that strange pinkish hue that made them unique. Just like before the whole fuckup.
“No, we deserve you being around, not always gone,” Clover whispered, but stepped back, rubbing his eyes.
Drake didn’t dare move, trapped with Tank still holding his hand as if he were keeping a child close. But Drake couldn’t find the strength to fight them anymore. The confrontation had drained all the energy he had left, and now all he wanted was to curl up and sleep forever in the back of his van, sealed away so he wouldn’t fuck up anyone else’s life.
He shook his head.
“Clover?” Tank said softly. “Why didn’t you tell me? I would have—we could…”
Clover stood there slouched and wouldn’t look at either of them. “Did you tell him everything?” he asked Drake, the accusation of betrayal clear in his tone.
Drake flinched, his hand getting wet in Tank’s, but when he tried to pull away, Tank held him even tighter. “Not in detail.”
Tank exhaled. “Clover, I should have known this. And so should Pyro. You’ve been through a traumatic experience. We would have acted differently—”
Clover clenched his fists. “I didn’t want to be treated differently! I wanted to forget it happened! I wanted my life to be as if it never happened. I wanted everything to be like before…”
Tank let go of Drake’s hand to reach for Clover and tried to pull him into a hug, but the boy flinched.