Chapter 16

Chapter Sixteen

When Sam walked back into the cabin, he saw the brothers gripping each other hard and heard Justin's soft words, " I only have one more person to kill, and then I'm done ."

His steps faltered momentarily. He didn't know what the hell was going on in Justin's head, but the man was screwed up, big time. He'd hoped Gabe would go in and see if they were okay, only Gabe was in shock. He'd slumped to the ground behind the cabin and hadn't moved or spoken since they'd walked out.

"Is everything okay?" Sam asked.

Justin didn't look over but hunched in on himself, pressing one hand at his temple, gripping Ethan's shirt hard with the other. Sam had nearly got up to them when Justin's eyes rolled back in his head and he crumpled in Ethan's arms.

Ethan half carried, half dragged Justin to the bed, arranged the sheet over him, and sat on the chair at one side, bending at the waist and cradling his face in his hands. "Justin? Can you hear me?"

Sam stood uncertainly. Maybe he should leave, but then what? Justin was facing him, his eyes closed, his features scrunched up in pain—not unconscious, but clearly close to it. He moved, rolled onto his front with a grunt, and then he lay still.

Ethan was absolutely still too, staring down at Justin with horror on his face.

"Ethan?" Sam moved in front of him, but there was no focus there. "Ethan? Do you want me to get someone? Get Aaron back?"

Ethan didn't seem to hear him, and Sam wasn't sure if he should repeat what he'd said, stand there like an idiot, or backpedal out of the cabin.

The last option wasn't one he wanted to do. Justin looked like death, and Ethan appeared utterly broken.

"I could find Adam," Sam suggested helpfully.

Adam and Ethan were the kind of couple Sam aspired to be a part of one day: solid, strong, forever. Much like Nate and Jay, who were disgustingly together in a completely perfect kind of way.

Still no answer.

"Or your dad? Or Nate?"

Sam was fishing for a response. Half of him was looking to get a reaction from the silent, sleeping, maybe unconscious Justin.

Ethan finally looked up; his skin was ashen, his eyes red. "I don't know. I can't tell you, he just said someone wants to kill him. He's scared, I think."

Fuck. Ethan was in shock. Gabe was sitting unmoving on the ground outside, and Justin was possibly unconscious. That just left Sam.

I have to be the one to deal with this.

Fuck. My. Life.

So he did the only thing that felt right. He phoned Adam and told him to bring Marcus to the cabin. Because all this pussyfooting around wasn't solving anything. Then he called Aaron, hoping to hell the paramedic wouldn't turn around and tell him to fuck off.

Who knew Justin was there? Who didn't know? It wasn't school, it was real life, and secrets festered and became sores that never healed.

Through it all, Ethan didn't move, just stared at his brother until he heard Adam outside speaking to Gabe, and then he left the room so fast that Sam knew he'd done the right thing. For one of the brothers, at least.

Sam watched and didn't move the entire time. Marcus clutched his chest as he'd done the night before, and said nothing. Adam held on tight to Ethan's hand, pressing the fingers of his free hand to his temple; he looked like the rug had been pulled from under him.

And Justin slept through it all.

Marcus touched Justin—a soft, hesitant connection that was achingly sad to watch—and cried.

Adam closed his eyes and stumbled out of the room. God knows what memory had come back to make him so white. Ethan looked between his dad and Adam, clearly torn as to who needed him most.

Sam inclined his head. I got your dad.

With a grateful smile, Ethan followed Adam, and so it was just Sam and Marcus, with Justin sleeping between them.

"Tell me again how you found him."

"In one of the old logger cabins."

"And he was… okay there…?"

Now that was a leading question. Justin had been far from okay. "Yeah." That was the best answer all around.

"Did he tell you where he's been?"

"No, sorry."

Marcus sat in silence for a long time, and then he stood and stretched. "I need to go." Without further explanation he left again; seemed like he couldn't stay anywhere near his son.

And then it was just Sam.

"Come and lie with me." Justin's voice was soft and insistent, and Sam took up his place next to him, shifting a little so Justin could snuggle into him.

"You're an expert at fake sleeping," Sam observed. "How're you feeling?"

Justin sighed. He was still hot to the touch. "I'm okay," he finally said. "Fucking blew everything up but didn't clear the whole list, realized I lived a life that shouldn't have been mine, and now I want to be close to the man who pulled in the entire state of Montana to gawk at me. But other than that, I'm fine."

Sam considered the words. He wasn't sure what list Justin meant or what he'd blown up, but he got the Montana reference and the concept of Justin wanting to be close to him. "Not the entire state. Just the parts closest to Helena." Sam didn't focus on the other stuff Justin said—what was the point? Justin wasn't going to expand on any of it.

"How does Dad look to you?"

"Like Marcus, I don't know what else to say."

"Is he doing okay, with the cancer?"

"I don't know." Sam felt pretty useless. "I'm sorry."

"It's okay. Thank you for being my buffer," Justin added, that time clearer and louder.

"You're welcome."

"But I don't thank you for getting Gabe."

"I can understand that." Sam smiled to himself. "Next time I come across you dying in a cabin, I'll be sure to leave you there."

"You should have," Justin said.

"Stop saying things like that!" Sam smacked him, right close to the wound on his thigh, which probably hurt.

"What the fuck?" Justin wheezed in pain.

"All that self-serving heroic shit where you make sweeping statements about how you should be dead."

Justin shook his head, and then slid down the bed a little. "I can try," he said.

Sam twisted fingers in Justin's hair and held him still. "Good" was all he said.

It had to be enough.