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They’re okay.
It’s been over an hour now since we arrived at the hospital.
A whining sound fills my ears, drowning everything out, as images and memories from earlier tonight that are more sensation than anything else threaten to overpower me once more.
A single text message from Waylon:
garage 911
The confusion, quickly followed by dread plummeting my gut.
His dad.
The drive over to Reggie’s garage.
The gunshot ringing out into the night.
The flashing red and blue lights.
Will and Way…
The way Will stumbled outside, with Waylon clutched in his arms, blood dripping down his face and neck. Waylon’s wide, vacant hazel eyes. How he dug his fingers into Will’s arms, and that godawful sound that came from his lips when the paramedics arrived and tried to separate them.
They had to sedate him—Waylon.
And then and only then, did Will finally pass out from his head injury.
He’s being stitched up now as they run scans to ensure it’s just a concussion.
As for Waylon…
My eyes fall shut, and I suck down another drag of nicotine, willing it to take some of the edge off. Stave off some of my quickly growing panic.
He’s fine. He’s gonna be okay.
It’s been over a month since Seamus McAllister showed up at O’Leary’s looking for the son he abused. After that run-in, Waylon finally agreed to getting a restraining order, and while we didn’t completely let down our guard…we clearly let it down too much.
Tonight should’ve never fucking happened.
No, Seamus didn’t go to the garage with the intent to hold his son and his son’s boyfriend hostage at gunpoint.
He went there to say goodbye to his friend.
Caught off guard by Will being there instead of Reggie…
Well, shit went from really bad to worse when Waylon arrived.
Tonight could’ve turned out so differently if we didn’t arrive when we did…
If they didn’t manage to sneak me a text message so we could call the cops.
If Waylon’s dad, for whatever reason, didn’t let them go before turning the gun on himself.
Reminded by that, another fresh wave of bile rushes up my throat. So lost in my head, I don’t immediately notice the approaching footsteps.
“Mason?”
At his voice, I swing around, eyes popping wide.
