Chapter 3

3

Kacey wasn’t sure why the dude was still here.

There had been X-rays and wrapping and an IV and stitches—none of which he could afford—and the guy was still there.

He wasn’t absolutely sure what the hell was wrong with Sam. It made no sense, and when that huge bastard had told them to kneel and wait for that dick that Sam was married to? Sam had just done it.

Asshole.

It wasn’t right.

Not even a little bit.

And then the dude had showed up and just stayed.

And stayed.

Now they were back in another taxi, and they were going somewhere else, and he didn’t understand what to do now.

He’d never not had any idea what to do.

The cab ride was long, quiet and uncomfortable, and the car eventually stopped on a narrow street with more trees than in Sam’s neighborhood. “This is me.” The guy got out and walked around to open his door and offer him a hand.

Kacey took it and stood, trying to orient himself. He could get a cheap hotel room for a couple of days, and if he lived, then get his shit and start hitchhiking out of town.

The cab pulled away, but the guy didn’t move.

“Okay. Let’s start this the right way. I’m River.” Weirdly, the guy offered his hand.

He stared at the man’s hand for a second. It was a fine-looking hand. Solid. Tan. Square. Pretty. Then he shook his head and held out his own hand. “Lowe. Kacey Lowe. Pleased to meet you.”

River nodded like that was the right answer. He should hope to hell so, it was the only answer he had. “Kacey, would you like to come inside? I have a guest room, coffee…”

Okay. Okay. Breathe. River was being sweet as hell. “I-I would really appreciate a cup of coffee, man, so I can gather one or two of my loose chickens.”

River smiled and he was surprised how handsome it was, and how good it looked on the guy. “Yeah, I bet. Coffee it is.”

They headed inside. River didn’t have a doorman, but the building was nice and had a smaller but fancy lobby and shiny elevators. River put a key in the panel and turned it before hitting the call button. The doors opened right up, and they rode to the seventh floor, which was the top floor of the building, and the door opened right into River’s apartment.

“Come on in.”

Wow. This was a big old place with light everywhere. It was a little dizzying.

“Thank you.” He didn’t know where this was in comparison to where he’d been or where he’d come from, but it was nice.

“I’m sure you’re exhausted. I’m pretty tired myself. ERs are stressful, but you seemed patient with the whole thing.” River went straight for the open kitchen and started making coffee. This chatting-like-they-were-friendly thing was strange. “Are you hungry at all?”

“No, thank you.” He wasn’t going to take this guy’s food from him. A cup of coffee. A chance to piss in quiet. Possibly directions.

“Suit yourself.” River took out a loaf of bread and a jar of peanut butter while they waited for the coffee to brew. “So are you from Texas like Sam?”

“Yessir. I’m from about four hours south of Greenville.” He grew up in Huntsville in the shadow of the prison. It hadn’t sucked until it did.

“I’m not going to pretend to know Texas geography. I know Austin and Dallas and Houston. I think I know where El Paso is…” River laughed. “It’s a big state. Sure you don’t want some peanut butter?”

“Can I have half?” He wasn’t going to have room for a whole one, if he was honest.

“Of course. The meds will sit better with something in your stomach, right?” River started to hand him the knife and then chuckled. “I got it.”

He almost smiled, but that hurt, so he just nodded, keeping himself on the stool with pure will alone. “Thank you.”

In a couple of minutes, he had half a peanut butter sandwich and a cup of coffee in front of him. River ate his sandwich while he poked at his own. “Hey. If you’d rather just take all of that to your room, I understand.”

He didn’t even know what to say. Thank you? Food doesn’t go in bedrooms because everyone knew that caused bugs? What room? Just the thought of picking up that coffee cup made him want to die a little? “The coffee smells good.”

“Oh, God. Can you pick it up? Want a straw?” River looked horrified for a second. “That wasn’t—I’m not being an asshole, sorry.”

Kacey glanced up, and the idea of a sippy cup full of black coffee tickled him, all the way down deep where there was still part of him that was whole. Giggles started deep inside him, then just kept on and on, uncontrollable.

River grinned and chuckled with him. “Yeah, that’s a picture, huh?”

“Yessir. That’s… God…” It hurt.

This hurt.

Suddenly, he couldn’t breathe, the world becoming a series of blocks that were tumbling down, because God was a huge toddler that wanted his way, or he was going to have a friggin’ temper tantrum.

“Whoa. Hey.” River hurried around to his side of the counter and suddenly strong arms were around him. “I’ve got you. Let’s uh… let’s just get you to bed.” The arms got tighter, and he realized distantly that River was carrying him.

He would apologize, but he couldn’t—not because he wasn’t sorry, but because he didn’t have anything left. Nothing.

Please. Please, I need to go home.

He sighed as River set him down on a soft, comfy bed in a room with dim lighting. River tugged his boots off and puttered around the room for a minute, then the lights went off and the room was dark apart from the streetlights out the window. “Get some sleep, Kacey. As much as you need. Your phone is by the bed. I’ll be here when you wake up.”

He heard the door close, and then it was quiet.

He should run. He should, but⁠—

Kacey had to admit it.

He’d done been thrown.