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As he started to wake up, I braced myself for what would happen. Would he fight me and tell me to go to hell? Or would he pull me into his arms to tell me how much he'd missed me too?
The moments in which he came to were some of the hardest periods of waiting I'd ever had. Dante's eyes blinked slowly as his body shifted on the bed. It looked as if he couldn't make sense of his surroundings. I waited for the memories to catch up to him.
When they did, his head whipped my way. "You're here."
It wasn't a question. Though his voice was rough, likely from the drugs, he didn't appear to be confused at my presence.
"I am," I told him.
His head moved on a swivel as he took in the room. It was meant for keeping clients safe, so there wasn't much in the way of design. Basic paintings hung on the wall, a dresser sat along one wall, and then there were end tables on both sides of the bed. Aside from that, the only other thing in the room was the door to the connected bathroom.
"You took me."
"I did."
He shook his head as he pushed to sit up. "You shouldn't have. It's going to cause a host of trouble. You have to take me back."
I froze at his words. He couldn't possibly mean...
"Take you back? You want me to take you back to Ricardo?" His eyes bulged at my words, so I continued. "Yes, I know who Ricardo is. I know that you've been gone for fourteen years, six months, four days, and twelve hours. I could give the minutes too if you'd like."
"I... you... It's not safe!"
That bottom lip that I used to love to nibble on jutted out. I longed to press my lips to his again. Longed to tell him that he had to do things my way because I would always protect him, protect us. I didn't care who his father was or what perceived danger he thought there was.
"You need not worry about what you think is safe or not. I brought you here because we need to talk. And I think it's a conversation we should have in private."
He stood and moved as if to leave. I jumped from my chair and blocked the door.
"Move, Preacher. We're not doing this. I'll find my own way back to the city if I have to."
I could see the panic in his eyes. Whatever he was worried about had him in a vise grip. He couldn't see anything past the fog.
He was so distracted I was able to turn him quickly, his body pressing into the wall beside the door as I pinned him down. No matter how big he'd gotten, I would always be bigger. "Stop fighting this. Tell me what you're so afraid of."
"Just let me go!" He thrashed against my hold.
"Stop, dammit. Tell me, Dante. Tell me why you're trying to run again. I just found you. Fuck, baby. I've been searching for you every single day since you left, and I’ve just now found you. You can't leave. Just talk to me."
I knew I was begging. I knew I looked weak.
But ask me if I cared.
My boy deserved the real, the raw. He got me broken down and split open, my heart his to do with as he pleased.
"BECAUSE HE'LL KILL YOU!" He sobbed as the fight left him completely.
I caught him under his arms, then backed us up to the bed. Sitting on the end, I placed him over my lap. He was much bigger than the last time we'd been in this position, but I maneuvered him until he seemed comfortable.
"Let's talk, shall we? You're going to sit here calmly and tell me why you think your father will kill me. When we're done, I'm going to feed you since you're probably really hungry. After that, we'll take a shower and then you can explain more of the story if you'd like. Understood?"
He gave me an unsure nod. I grabbed his chin, turning his head so he could meet my eyes.
His lips were a breath away. If I only moved a touch closer...
"That's not how we answer, is it?" I whispered. "Do you understand what I've said, Dante?"
He gulped, his throat working overtime as he opened his mouth to reply. At his words, my world clicked into place.
