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“You did what?” Steven asked, turning on Mason.
“You didn’t use that name. Haven’t used it in years. I got nervous. They had myphone. Who knows what they’d find in there. They were asking too many questions—they already knew I was connected to you somehow. I thought—maybe if they thought I was a victim, too. I didn’t think you used that name anymore.”
Steven appeared dumb-founded. Betrayed. I considered using this moment to launch my lamp at him. Maybe I could knock him out? But if I didn’t, he’d instinctively plunge that syringe directly into Gabe.
Shit. Fuck.
Mason looked like he was on the verge of tears. He started squeezing on the back of his neck. I must have struck some kind of nerve.
“I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry.”
Steven shook his head and moved closer to Mason, not noticing that Gabriel looked wide-awake. But that needle. It would be so easy for Steven to get at least half of that dose into him, if not the entire thing. Without an antidote, it would sign Gabe’s death certificate on the spot.
But maybe if I distracted him?
Maybe if he injected me with it instead? Only one of us had to die tonight.
Maybe.
“Mason was the one who turned you in,” I said, pushing into the gaping wound I had uncovered. “He’s the one responsible for what’s about to happen to you.”
I saw a flash of anger twist Steven’s features. The scene appeared as if it were drawn in a comic book, using bold black and white markers to draw out the thick outlines and deep shadows. Gabe twitched. He sat up a little straighter, his eyes dropping to the needle and rising up to the knife, now aimed at Mason’s chest.
He was about to act. Which meant I needed to act first. I had to be a hero.
I lurched forward. Someone shouted. A gunshot rang out like a massive boom, a star falling through the ceiling, the sky collapsing. I yelled, fell to the floor, another gunshot. Someone was on top of me, covering me. A strong, warm human fortress.
“I’ve got you, you’re okay.” Gabe’s voice in my ear, mooring me to reality. I breathed him in, not caring that my ribs were being squeezed tight.
After a few more seconds, the chaos seemed to calm. Gabe unraveled around me, his weight lifting. I got back up on my feet and turned to the doorway.
“Eric?” I asked, shocked.
And Noah, standing at his side. The two of them looked shaken but relieved. Noah turned on the light, and Eric lowered his gun. Behind me, Steven groaned against the wall, clutching at his bleeding shoulder. Mason helped him apply pressure while Gabe quickly snatched away the needle and the knife.
“When you didn’t come back from the bathroom, I knew something was up. Noah reminded me you were sharing your location with us, so we followed you back here.” He shook his head, gun still aimed at Steven. “I’m starting to think I need to find new friends. Ones that don’t have me using my gun every other month.”
Miraculously, somehow, the cheery sound of broken laughter bubbled up from somewhere far, far down in my chest. Noah was already on the phone with the police, Jake and Colton barreling down the hallway and into my bedroom.
Gabe helped me out into the living room, where Tia, Jess, and Yvette were waiting for me. Yvette tossed a blanket over my shoulders, and Jess handed one to a still-half-naked Gabriel. The rest of the night whirred past in a blur. I couldn’t tell which way was up and which was down. The cops came and took Mason away in handcuffs while the EMTs wheeled Steven away on a stretcher. They collected all the toxins and needles as evidence and left me and my friends alone after about an hour or two of rummaging through my house.
“So,” I said, looking around at the tired faces of the people I loved the most in this world. “Where y’all from?”
The group broke into a smattering of laughter and smiles, and I knew in my heart of hearts that everything would be okay.
31
TRISTAN HALL
The sunlight beamedin through the window, shining off the freshly mopped hardwood floors. The clean scent of Pine-Sol filled the living room as Gabriel fluffed up a mint-green pillow, and I folded a fluffy beige blanket, placing it in a messy (but still neat) wicker basket with the rest of the blankets. I looked over at Gabe as he bent down to pick up a rogue sock I had left under the couch. He lifted it in the air and shook it, eyebrow arched.
“Whoops,” I said, snatching it from his hand before moving in for a quick kiss.
The quick kiss turned into a heated one, well, pretty quickly. It never failed. Feeling Gabe’s hard, muscular body against mine always got my engines revving. I wrapped my arms around him and held him against me, my head on his chest, his heartbeat working a familiar rhythm.
Padam. Padam.
I closed my eyes and let myself drift off on a lazy river of pure love.
