Tears prickled at the back of Kit’s eyes. He blinked furiously, not wanting to fall apart in front of a stranger. He didn’t know what to say, what to ask.
Red squeezed Kit’s shoulder. The touch was comforting and just what he needed. “Thanks for letting us know, Mo. If you find out anything else, we can discuss it tomorrow.”
Kit turned and buried his face in Red’s chest. He was too distraught to think or talk right now. Everyone was safe. His brother was safe somewhere even if Kit had no idea where he was. The club members and their families were okay too.
He knew one thing. He’d have nothing to do with the club again. He’d move across the country if he had to. His haven was gone. He could play a chaos demon when he always had a home and his brother to come back to. But now?
Kit had nothing.
Red and Mo were talking above his head, but he wasn’t paying attention. He couldn’t think of anything except the realization that nothing would be the same again.
“Kit?”
He looked up at Red’s voice. “Huh?”
“You seem lost in thought.”
His eyes were kind and Kit just wanted to burrow into him.
“I’m just tired.”
He was too tired to talk about the club and his brother.
“We’ll go to bed,” Red said. “There’s nothing you can do now.”
Kit couldn’t hold back a sob. He was adrift in the world and even Red didn’t want to be his anchor, not really. Kit had nothing to call his own.
“Come on, kid,” Red coaxed. “Sleep. You’ll feel better.”
“Can you give me my life back?” Kit muttered.
Red said nothing, which Kit guessed was his answer, and just herded him into the bedroom as if Kit were a recalcitrant sheep and Red was the determined sheepdog. Red handed him a bag. Kit peeked in and discovered a pair of grey sleep shorts and a soft navy T-shirt.
“There’s spare toothbrushes and toothpaste in the bathroom,” Red said. “Get ready for bed. I need to check in with Craig.”
“You’re not going to undress me?”
Red rolled his eyes. “I think you can do that yourself. You stripped off in front of me last night.”
Damn, so he had. Kit huffed and tugged his sweater over his head.
“I’ll be back in a moment,” Red said. “Get into bed.”
Kit hesitated, wanting to beg him to stay, but Red vanished and Kit sighed.
Five minutes later, he lay tucked up in bed like a little boy in sleep shorts and a T-shirt that wasn’t his, the covers pulled too high, the mattress too soft beneath him. The room smelled faintly of clean cotton and woodsmoke, unfamiliar and wrong in a way that made it hard to breathe. He stared into the darkness, listening to the quiet hum of the cabin settling around him.
Red appeared in the doorway. “Good boy. Okay, go to sleep.”
Kit sat up on his elbows. “What about you? Are you coming to bed?”
“I’ll be sleeping out here. Don’t worry, I’ll be by this door. And Mo and Ronan will be here at the first sign of trouble.”
Kit wanted to argue again. He wanted Red here, in his bed, but Red just told him to sleep. He was gonna clear up, then he’d make sure everything was locked down tight. Kit rolled his eyes. Sergeant Patrol, making the rounds again.
He tried closing his eyes. Counting breaths, then sheep. Why the hell was he counting sheep? He didn’t even like the woolly fuckers. Then he tried telling himself this was no different from any other night he’d spent alone. But every time the darkness pressed in and his mind dragged him straight back to the panic room.
The steel walls and heavy doors should have made him feel better. He would be safe in there until he was rescued. Instead, it stripped away the last of his denial. Panic rooms weren’t for just in case. They were for when things had already gone wrong.
