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“Yes. Your family, job, confusion about your sexuality.” That made my cheeks heat. I knew I told him about that, but I didn’t think he’d want to discuss it anymore. “Start asking yourself the hard questions tonight. Dig as deep as you’re comfortable with and tell me what you come up with tomorrow if you don’t want to talk about the case.”
“I will,” I told him, rubbing the back of my neck. “Thanks for taking my call, Doc.”
We disconnected, but I didn’t move. I continued to sit at the edge of the lake, wondering. Now was as good a time as any to ask myself a hard question. How did I feel about men? There have been some who made me pause to take a second look. Men who were incredibly good-looking that I stared at a second too long, but that was it. I felt a stirring but didn’t have the urge to make a move or try anything. Until Tristan. He made me stand up and take notice. His long, lean legs made me wonder what it would feel like to have them wrapped around me. His lips made me envision them wrapped around my dick, his cheeks hollowing, sucking me dry. And his firm but ample ass made me want to sink my teeth into it. I’d never done anything sexual with a man, but Tristan made me want to. If not for his shitty attitude, I would have tried to find a way to act on those desires.
Had he let me explain what I meant by my stupid comment about him not looking gay, he would understand, right? I mean, he had to come out to people and knew how hard it was—fear of rejection and all that. I could have explained, and maybe he could have helped me? Fuck. Why did he have to be here? I wouldn’t feel like this if he wasn’t up here, taking up space.
I knew it was unfair to put that on him, but I was in a shitty mood and needed someone to blame for it. I couldn’t blame myself or my job like I should have. No, Tristan was to blame for my mood. For being so gorgeous and so magnetic. For having such a smart mouth that I wanted to kiss so he’d shut up. This was digging deep like the doctor asked me to. And as uncomfortable as it was, I knew for sure I was attracted to men just as I was attracted to women, maybe more so. And that meant I had to get out of that house.
When I got back, I walked to my room and made my bed. I was going to head out to get groceries, but I saw Tristan’s keys were gone from the hook, so I figured that’s where he had gone off to. I felt bad for eating all the food I was sure he’d bought, but I had planned to get more as soon as I got a good night’s sleep, which I hadn’t gotten yet.
I sat on the freshly made bed and laid back, feet still on the floor. I looked over at the alarm clock on the bedside table—11:22 a.m. I turned my head back, staring at the ceiling. Although there was central air here, I always slept with the ceiling fan on. I watched it now, swinging lazily around and around. I felt myself getting tired and knew I should have gotten up. But the way my exhaustion was, it was bone deep. And I couldn’t fight the current trying to pull me under, so I didn’t.
This nightmare started off like all the rest.Me, sitting in a corner, tied to a chair. The masked Darkstream Killer was in front of me, he and his victim facing me. He’d already begun the torture, several areas of her body dripping blood and her face beaten to shit. No matter how hard I struggled, I couldn’t get the ropes loose enough to slip my hands through. I watched as he cut off fingers, toes, earlobes, and finally, killed her outright. Every new injury, a new face popped up. First, Kathy, the first victim, then Barb, the fifth victim. Next was Jessica, the last victim, and then unexpectedly, Cassie. My beautiful baby sister. She had never shown up in my nightmares, was never tied down and brutally tortured by this animal. I screamed at him. Screamed so loud my throat was raw.
“Get away from her! Don’t touch her!” With every scream, he threw his head back and laughed, mask muffling the noise while he moved onto another part of her body to maim and mutilate. I heard her calling my name over and over. And over and over, I screamed. I screamed so hard I tasted blood in the back of my throat. And I kept hearing Cassie calling my name.
But now it was deeper, her voice. It took on a hysterical quality, and it was a deep baritone.
“Lucas! Lucas, please. Lucas!” When his hand made contact with my shoulder, I bolted awake. I scooted so far on the bed I fell over the side. Wide-eyed, I looked at Tristan and saw the worry on his face. I didn’t want him to see me like that. I didn’t want anybody to see me like that. “Lucas, are you okay? Do I need to call someone?”
Fuck!I did not want to hear the pity in his voice. I didn’t want his sympathy. He started to move around the bed toward me, and I scooted back further and threw my hands up.
“Don’t fucking touch me.” I growled at him. He stopped and looked at me and was definitely pissed, but underlying that, I could see the hurt in his eyes.
“Well, fuck you too. I guarantee you won’t turn gay from me trying to help you after a nightmare.” I watched him leave and felt like shit. He was trying to help. If the roles were reversed, even though I didn’t like him, I would have tried to help him as well. I can’t believe I lost my shit like that. But I had never had a nightmare like that. Cassie wasn’t a part of that world. She wasn’t one of his victims.
I ran a hand down my face and got up from the tight spot I shoved myself into. I looked at the nightstand clock. It was twelve forty-five in the afternoon. I was asleep for an hour, but it felt longer, the way that nightmare got to me. I wanted to crawl out of my skin, I was so twitchy. I needed to hit something.
After getting dressed in basketball shorts and a loose white tee, I got my boxing gloves from the hall closet and went out to the garage. It was a three-car garage with one spot reserved for the punching bag I always kept there since I was a young teen with too much aggression and not a lot of outlets. I hadn’t used it in a while, but I was definitely going to put it to work now.
I got busy working out my frustrations on the bag, hitting it how I wanted to hit Bush all over again. These nightmares made me glad I tried to put him to sleep. He didn’t deserve to be alive. It would have meant the end of my career and probably my freedom, but it would have been worth it to take him not just off the streets but off the planet.
Those girls didn’t deserve that. They didn’t deserve to be tortured by an incel just because he couldn’t get a date. They were all so young, the oldest victim being twenty-four, the youngest only seventeen. They should have had years and years ahead of them. Instead, they were preyed upon. Kidnapped and murdered by a sadistic fuck who should have been swallowed. I grunted as I hit the bag, digging deep into it, hoping to break it. That’s how deep my anger flowed.
When my arms felt like lead and I could barely catch my breath, I stopped. I sat on the floor with my head between my legs, taking big gulps of air. My mouth was dry, and my head was spinning. Using my teeth, I pulled the Velcro off one glove and put it between my legs to pull it off. As I was taking the other glove off, I felt it. I felthim. My skin started to prickle, and goose bumps appeared on my arms. Huh. So that was how he knew I was behind him in the kitchen. Wiping my face, I raised my head and met his gaze. He was leaning against the door to the garage, assessing me with a tilt of his head.
“I came to offer you some water and a towel. You’ve been hitting that bag for forty-five minutes. Figured you were thirsty and sweaty.” He set the items down on a shelf next to the door.
His calm demeanor and helpful attitude riled me up. He wasn’t doing anything wrong, but I didn’t need his help. I didn’t need his generosity. I didn’t need him to like me just because he woke me from a shitty dream. I needed him to stay away from me because I didn’t trust what I would do if he got close to me. “If I wanted a towel and water from you, I would have asked,” I snapped at him. Let him think I was an asshole. That was better than him getting close to me in any way.
He narrowed his eyes at me and crossed his arms over his chest. “Look, I know you have a problem with me being gay. That’s your hang-up, not mine. I don’t care for you much either, but you’re Cass’ brother, and I’m trying to be cordial. Your macho-man bullshit is really starting to piss me off.”
“Whatever, dude. Like I said, I don’t need your help. So stay out of my way and don’t come in my room and touch me again.” I stood up and wiped my face with my shirt, catching as much sweat as I could. I couldn’t believe I had been in here for forty-five minutes.
“Don’t touch you again? I was trying to wake you from your nightmare. You didn’t seem like you were able to do it yourself, what with all the screaming you were doing. I touched you on yourarm, not your dick.” I whipped my head up to look at him and imagined what it would feel like if hedidtouch my dick. I started to get hard thinking about it and knew I had to get away from him before he saw and knew how he affected me. “But if you want to be a homophobic dick, be my guest. Like I told you, you don’t have to worry about me trying to help you after a nightmare.”
“I’m not homophobic.” It came out quietly.
I didn’t think he heard me until he said, “Could have fooled me with all your don’t-touch-me bullshit.”
“That’s not why I said that.”
“Oh, I’m sure. Are you just saying that because you don’t want me to tell Cass about this? About how, once again, you can’t keep your homophobic bullshit to yourself and make me feel uncomfortable? And how, even when I offered you help, you shoved it back in my face?”
I growled in frustration and stalked over to him. I grabbed his face, more gently than my aggression should have allowed, and pressed my lips to his. I swept my tongue over his lower lip, and he gasped. I used that opportunity to push my tongue into his mouth, tasting him. He tasted sweet, like fresh strawberries. So fucking sweet. It was addicting.
My lips melded to his, wanting him to give me what I wanted—his tongue. It took that thought for me to realize what I was doing. I wanted to move back and apologize, but he grasped the front of my shirt with one hand and kissed me back. He kissed me back and moaned into my mouth, leaning into me. I backed him up to the wall opposite the garage door, our tongues doing battle the whole time—nipping, sucking, teeth scraping. I was desperate for more of him.
