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He didn’t ask, though. It wasn’t his business.
Michael returned from the kitchen, his expression a bit more schooled than before, but he definitely looked like he could use a stiff drink. “You gonna raise the deflector shields, too, Captain?” Josiah asked.
Michael stared at him for several long seconds before cracking a half smile. “Someone sneaked onto this property and hurt you. I don’t like that. No one’s breaking into this house while I’m here, and I’m going to buy an alarm system tomorrow.”
Elmer grunted but didn’t otherwise respond.
“Do I get one for the trailer?” Josiah asked.
He must have been too tired for his teasing to come across, because Michael tossed him a serious stare and said, “Absolutely. I’ll buy fucking motion sensors for the perimeter fence if I have to.”
“Don’t jump into the deep end right off,” Elmer said. “You have any reason to think someone was after Josiah specifically, and it wasn’t just some homeless drunk who wanted to steal from us, or spend a cold night in the barn and was scared to get caught?”
Josiah tried to meet Michael’s eyes, but Michael wouldn’t look at him. They were both keeping the T-shirt from Elmer, and it probably wasn’t fair. At the same time, Josiah could have imagined that shirt, since he had been bashed in the head and Michael hadn’t found it anywhere near where Josiah was attacked. It wasn’t as if a raccoon had come along and stolen away with it.
“I don’t know what happened out there or why,” Michael replied tersely. “I just don’t want it to happen again. That fucking barn is cursed.”
Elmer pressed his lips together. “I think we’ve all had enough excitement for tonight. Josiah, you’re welcome to my bed if you don’t feel like sleeping alone in the trailer tonight. Especially after all this shit.”
“No way. The couch isn’t good for your leg or hip,” Josiah replied. “I’ll be fine right here where I am. Besides, your couch is pretty lumpy so it’ll be harder for me to fall asleep. Since I’m not supposed to sleep.”
“I’ll help you get ready for bed, Dad.”
Michael and Elmer disappeared down the short hall that led to the downstairs bedroom, leaving Josiah completely alone for the first time since being bashed over the head. He closed his eyes and tried to focus on those few moments between turning around and getting hit in the head. Tried to see past the solid object coming at him, to the shape of the person wielding that unknown weapon.
The more he reimagined it, the more he was pretty sure the weapon had come straight at him, but that didn’t tell him much. Anything with a semiwide, flat surface could have done it, from the butt of a rifle to a two-by-four. The barn wasn’t exactly lacking for weapons. But more than the what, he wanted to know who and why? And had that shirt actually been there, or was his mushy brain making it up after the fact?
“Hey, no sleeping yet.” Michael’s comforting voice startled him into trying to sit up.
Way wrong move. Pain flashed behind Josiah’s eyes. “Fuck, you scared me.”
“Sorry, pal.” He parked his butt on the edge of the couch near Josiah’s legs, face serious. “Why didn’t you tell McBride about the shirt?”
“I’m not really sure. Part of me thinks I imagined it, because you didn’t see it.”
“And the other part?”
“I think I was hoping to trick Seamus into giving something away, that maybe he had something to do with it. But he didn’t.”
“How can you be so sure?”
“I know him.” Beyond living together for two years, there had once been a genuine emotional bond between himself and Seamus. For a while, Josiah had adored their private relationship, even though being denied in public had hurt. Seamus had been great at playing straight, but beyond that he wasn’t a great actor. “He didn’t do it, Michael. He doesn’t know anything about it.”
“So how did your old T-shirt end up in the barn?”
“I don’t know. Maybe that’s why I’m second-guessing if I saw it at all.” He didn’t like having this conversation flat on his back with his head slightly propped on a pillow, but sitting up felt like way too much trouble.
“Maybe things will be clearer in the morning. Why don’t you let me help you upstairs? You can sleep in my room. The sheets are clean. I’ll take Dad’s bed. That way I can keep an eye on you tonight.”
Everything about Michael’s tone, posture, and expression told Josiah not to argue, that this was happening. Protective Michael warmed Josiah deep inside on a cellular and emotional level, and instead of fighting it, he gave in. He was too sore and exhausted to battle what his body and mind wanted. “Okay.”
“Excellent.”
Michael put the shotgun on the bracket above the door, double-checked the locks, and began turning off several of the downstairs lights. He left one side lamp blazing in the corner of the living room, giving the space a gentle glow and leaving few shadowy places for an attacker to lurk.
Not that Josiah planned on coming back downstairs until well after sunrise tomorrow.
Sitting up took more effort than he expected, and at one point, Michael got behind him and acted a bit like a human lever. Once he was upright, Josiah closed his eyes until a wave of nausea passed. He really should have taken some aspirin or ibuprofen for his headache, but at this point all he wanted was to lie down in a bed.
