Chapter 20

Chapter Twenty

Sam finally moved away from Justin when he felt his breathing even out and he was asleep. He carefully stepped away from the bed, and for a short while he stared down at the complicated man. Looking at him sleeping, his face relaxed, it seemed the horrors Justin had seen and done hadn't left their mark. But hidden, like the scars on his back, they were there.

Counseling would surely just be the start of it.

"How is he doing?" Ethan asked as soon as he walked into the kitchen.

"Sleeping." Sam helped himself to coffee. "Is Adam okay?"

Ethan made a noncommittal sound. "Not sure how he's feeling. Part of me respects Justin for not talking, and doesn't want Adam remembering anything. The other part wants to demand that Justin tells us everything."

"Maybe Adam'll remember on his own?"

"I hate it when he remembers things, it hurts him."

"You can't decide what he does and doesn't remember."

Ethan had the concerned look on his face he got whenever he talked about Adam's pain. "Yeah, I know."

"I need to talk to you about something."

"Go for it."

Sam took the chair opposite. "Where's your dad?"

"Gone for a walk."

"Is he okay?"

"He's just getting his head around everything."

Sam crossed his arms over his chest. "Ethan, it's just you and me, and you might not like what I have to say."

"Seems like the day for big reveals," Ethan said. "Next you'll tell me your red sauce is from a jar."

Sam shook his head and placed his hand dramatically on his chest. "You wound me."

"Well, come on then, spit it out."

"Your brother."

"What about him?" Ethan looked half-defensive, half-worried.

"I'm attracted to him."

Ethan stared at him blinking steadily, and then he laughed. "Shit, Sam, is that it? You're attracted to everyone."

Sam felt a little hurt, but he didn't let it show. After all, it was his own fault for fostering a certain image with his friends here at the ranch. No one took him seriously when it came to his love life.

Well, today he needed to start to redress that. "No, I mean, not like I do when I flirt with Adam or Jay—that's just messing with you and Nate. I mean seriously attracted, almost painfully so, like I want to wrap him up and keep him safe, and hold him, and the other stuff."

Ethan blanched. "I do not want to hear about the other stuff," he said, holding his hand up and away from the mug he'd wrapped it around.

Ethan's palm was reddened from the heat—funny the things you noticed when you were trying to get your head sorted out enough to talk through your feelings.

"We kissed," Sam admitted. "I'm not sure why, though, but I'd like to do it again."

"Okay, is that something you feel good with? I mean, he's clearly got some issues."

That's like calling the Rockies a series of hills.

"When I found him, he was this scary son of a bitch, all guns and swagger and threatening me, and I looked at him, and something about him meant I just knew he wouldn't hurt me. That he was a good guy. Am I making any sense?"

The door opened, and Marcus and Adam stepped in, with Gabe close behind and Ashley holding his hand.

"So, what do we do now?" Marcus asked of everyone who stood in the loose circle.

"You let me leave and pretend this never happened."

Everyone turned to see Justin leaning against the doorjamb, his eyes half-closed and his knuckles white with clinging to the wood for balance.

Sam didn't think that was for the best at all, but abruptly he noticed the expressions of everyone else there, and they all seemed to be considering it a good thing. Then it hit him—had Justin heard him talking to Ethan about the attraction?

Gabe said nothing, just stepped into his friend's space and pulled him into a hug.

"Now we're all in one place again," Sam heard him say. "Justin, this is Ashley, my fiancée."

At first Justin didn't hug Gabe back, but Gabe wasn't letting him get away with it, and finally Justin wrapped a hand around him and held on. Burying his face in Gabe's neck, before he eased away and held out a hand to Ashley, who took it briefly.

"How did you manage to hook someone this gorgeous?" Justin teased.

Then he and Gabe spoke quietly, low, so no one could hear them, Ashley with them. Gabe disentangled himself, took Ashley's hand, and turned and left without another word.

"Dad?" Justin asked softly.

Sam held his breath.

Marcus stepped closer to Justin. "I'm sorry, son."

"There's nothing to be sorry for," Justin said, still leaning on the door, not moving away from his safe space. "It's me that's fucked-up."

And then Marcus pulled his son close and supported him. "I should have been there for you, known you had gone, found you, never given up."

When they parted, Marcus had wet eyes, but again, Justin was dry-eyed, his lips pressed together, his features tight with emotion. Sam wondered if Justin ever let himself cry freely. Was he ever going to be able to let go of the things he held inside?

"You know I have to leave, right? There are people out there who want me dead. I can't stay and put you all in danger."

"We can defend ourselves, and you," Marcus said, pulling his shoulders back with determination.

Justin half smiled. "If only it were that easy."

"No one knows you're here, why would people think you'd come home?" Ethan asked.

Sam wanted to hear the answer to that one.

"Because it would be the first place I would look when all the other options had been exhausted. It's how I found Dillon Naves—the idiot was still visiting his girlfriend. Regretted it when I shot him." His words fell flat. Justin might well be feeling like that made sense but everyone else in the room, including Sam, was shocked. "Sorry," Justin added. "Told you I'm fucked in the head."

Marcus interrupted the heavy silence. "You could come up to the house."

"You know I can't, Dad."

Ethan said, "Adam and I will stay here tonight, in the next room."

"Yep," Sam said. "And I have food, drink, and an insatiable need to lie on a bed. I'm staying right here."

Sam moved into the kitchen to make food as soon as everyone left. Ethan and Adam had closed their bedroom door; the last Sam saw was the two of them kissing as the door shut.

Not jealous, not jealous at all.

"We need to talk," Justin said, throwing cold water over Sam's heated thoughts.

"I know," Sam sighed. "You think kissing was wrong, you're not staying, you're not the kind of man that other men, or women, should be lusting after, oh, and you think that we should cool any and all kissing before you break my poor little heart."

Sam said all that as he spread butter on bread and only glanced up when Justin didn't immediately answer.

Justin had a strange expression on his face, his mouth open.

"Well, that shut you up," Sam teased, placing ham and lettuce on the bread and closing the sandwich. He cut the bread in two and added chips to the side of Justin's.

"I was going to say all of that," Justin admitted. He went to sit at the table where Sam indicated, hobbling a little and massaging his thigh.

"You need some painkillers?"

"No, it's just tight, no pain."

Sam imagined Justin's concept of pain was different from his own. Although he defied anyone to pull a baking tray from a hot oven with a thin cloth and brush it off as Sam could. Of course he bitched and whined when blisters formed, but he'd learned to push through that as well. Maybe it was like that for Justin; maybe he'd been shot before and this was nothing new to him. Another question for later.

Justin pushed the chips to one side and poked at the sandwich.

Sam stopped eating. "Are you feeling sick again?"

"Can we go in there?" Justin gestured to the bedroom.

Sam picked up the food to take with them, and Justin only seemed to relax when the door shut on them.

Justin sat on the bed and Sam took the chair by the window. Justin looked up at Sam; his gray eyes filled with pain and he lowered his voice. "What do I tell Adam? What does Ethan want me to say? It's my fault Adam even went there with me. He should have been at home, with Ethan, with the horses. Safe."

"Umm…." That sounded like a serious question. "I don't know. I guess you don't have to tell him every little detail."

"Does he have… y'know?" Justin pulled a small piece of ham out from his sandwich, putting it in his mouth and chewing.

" Y'know what?" Sam couldn't quite make out the question there.

"Scars? Like me?"

Sam didn't know. He'd seen some discoloration on Adam's neck, a darkening of skin, but he'd never seen him shirtless, much to his disappointment, so he didn't know. He imagined that if Adam was as scarred as Justin was, he would have a way of holding himself, a stiffness like Justin had.

Or maybe that was just the way Justin was.

"I don't think so." Unconsciously, Sam pressed a hand to his neck, "Maybe here, a little."

"But nothing like me. Like the ones I have?"

"I don't think so." Now it was Sam's turn to poke at his sandwich; he couldn't concentrate on the food even though he was hungry. "How long were you in the hospital? With the burns, I mean?"

"I don't know exactly .Two years, four months, three days." His tone was flat, and Sam imagined the agony of being stuck in a hospital, counting the days down.

"That must have been…" Hard? Terrifying? Soul Destroying? What word could he use to describe what he imagined?

"I was in a coma for a while, the longest time, actually. The edema was so bad I struggled to breathe, but luckily the burns were all on my back and thighs, my front was clear—my chest, my face. It could have been so much worse. I woke up, and I couldn't think, not through the pain. I turned eighteen in hospital, and I wasn't allowed to contact my family, they said everyone was in danger."

"They?"

Justin looked thoughtful. "Saunders. He said that, and I believed him. I was a kid."

Sam was finding this so hard to listen to. "Was there anyone? I mean, did you have anyone to hold your hand when you woke up? When you were going through PT? When you were in pain?"

Justin stared at him steadily, and Sam realized he had the answer there in the stony, dead-eyed gaze.

"Yes. Saunders. He was there, waiting for me to wake up, spinning this hatred in the room and inside me. Telling me that my family was in danger, and that he had the names of the five men who hurt us and left Adam to burn to death."

"I'm so sorry, Justin." Sam reached over from the chair and gripped Justin's hand. "Adam is okay," he reassured.

Justin withdrew his hand from Sam's touch to play with his food again. Then, in a quieter voice, he said. "I had something to live for. I was going to find the five who hurt Adam, and I was going to kill them. Five lives for his."

"I understand."

"How can you?" Justin snapped, but then he sighed. "I was too far gone down that path, I knew I was letting my humanity dilute. God, that sounds pretentious, but I knew what I wanted to do and it didn't matter who got hurt. The Unit used that. I didn't have an identity, I was dead. So with a new name I was able to go undercover."

"To make things right," Sam said. He could understand that. When his parents kicked him out, he had wanted to make something of himself, despite them, and he had. He was happy, but nothing he had done would ever impress parents who wanted him to be straight, married, and working in the firm with his druggie brother who could do no wrong.

Bitterness rose inside him and he pushed it down. Now wasn't the time to think about the shit in his own life, not when Justin was fighting demons a hell of a lot bigger than Sam's were.

"I feel sick," Justin placed his plate on the small side table next to the bed. "I'm sorry, I can't eat."

"What can I do?" Sam stood up and filled a glass with water, placing it next to Justin. "Are you okay?"

Justin's expressive eyes filled with pain, his forehead creased in a frown. He looked older then, more world-weary, the weight of everything pushing him down. "I don't know what I'll ever be able to say to Adam." His voice was small; his fear was apparent.

"Whatever you say will be right," Sam said.

"How do you know that?"

Sam didn't know that, not exactly, but he'd gotten to know Adam, and that was enough. "Adam is a nice guy. You could tell him every detail, and I think he'd just hug you and try and help. Or you could tell him nothing and he'd make allowances for you."

Justin stood up fast, wincing in pain and placing the flat of his hand to the wall to steady himself. "He's forgotten it all; his brain has actually given him an out. What if I say something and all that agony and fear forces its way back into his memories? I could mention a name, or an event, or the weather, and the floodgates would open, and he'd have it all. I've had years to come to terms with what happened, and what has Adam had? Twelve years of nothing."

Sam searched for something supportive to say, wanting the day to roll back until it was just the two of them, kissing and talking. "Adam has Ethan to help him." He regretted it immediately when Justin bowed his head and hunched his shoulders.

"My brother, yeah. He really is a good man. He'll look after Adam." Justin's tone was fierce. "That's how it should be now."

Evidently Justin assumed Ethan would be there for Adam, but not for Justin.

"Ethan is plenty strong enough to look out for his little brother as well." Sam cleared their plates away, taking them to the kitchen, scraping the uneaten food in the garbage, his sandwich half-eaten, Justin's not even touched. Maybe after today was done, if Justin was hungry, Sam could create something more appetizing than bread, filling, and chips.

"What about you?" Justin asked, when Sam went back into the bedroom. "Where will you be?"

Sam held himself back from announcing he would stay right there if Justin needed him. Instead he smiled. "I need to get some work done." And he did; he wasn't lying. The investment plan was new and he had to make Branches work. It seemed like forever that he'd been in the cabin, but in actuality it was only a few days, and he knew Ashley could handle Branches. Everything would be okay.

Justin didn't look disappointed, no flicker of anything in his eyes, not even a frown marring his forehead. Instead he smiled, nodded, and hobbled to the bathroom. He shut the door.

That left Sam feeling like shit. Justin wasn't going to ask him to stay because he was a fucked-up hero type who believed sacrifice was the only way to get things done. So maybe it was up to Sam to figure it out and do the right thing.

He knocked on the bathroom door.

"What?" Justin snapped from inside.

"I'll stay with you if you like, until you go," he called through the door.

Silence, and Sam strained to hear anything, a sound, a word, any little bit of something that meant Justin had heard him.

Finally, he heard two words and knew he'd done exactly the right thing.

"Thank you."