Chapter 22
TWENTY-TWO
Dom always knew he’d been blessed with the absolute best parents on the planet, but they proved themselves beyond all things that awful Wednesday morning spent wondering if his best friend was going to live or die.
His dad had a friend who lived locally and volunteered her guest room, couch, and bathroom to everyone who needed a break from the hospital.
Tyson’s cousin Bree whisked him home at quarter after nine, and he left reluctantly after receiving promises of updates on Lincoln the minute they knew more.
Around ten o’clock, when they knew that Lincoln was out of surgery and in recovery—and yeah, maybe Dom had sobbed all over Trey from the good news—Dom allowed Trey and his dad to wrangle him over to the Sumpter house for a shower, a meal, and a nap—in that order.
He slept for a while with Trey plastered against his back, a comfortable warmth that had kept Dom grounded since he strode into the emergency room.
He woke to the pleasant sensation of Trey’s fingers tickling across his abdomen—something sure to get his engine revving under any other circumstances.
Mostly it reminded him that Trey was there, and that all of Dom’s friends were alive.
He wiggled back against Trey, and the arm across his waist tightened.
“How are you doing?” Trey whispered.
“Not sure. Relieved, but I don’t think the night’s really sunk in yet.”
“You’re probably still in shock.”
“Probably. I mean, Linc’s still in critical condition. His parents probably don’t even know.”
“Would they care?”
Dom flinched at the spot-on question. “Probably not. Assholes.”
“Doesn’t matter. He’s got you and your parents looking out for him. Plus the rest of the band.”
“Yeah.” Something important tugged at the corner of his mind, demanding to be acknowledged, but Dom wasn’t sure—“Fuck. Unbound.” He jackknifed into a sitting position, ice water trickling down his spine. “Goddamn fucking shitty timing. I could kill that motherfucking other driver. Damn it!”
Trey stared at him wide-eyed and openmouthed.
The bedroom door swung open and his father stepped inside, because yeah, Dom had been yelling.
Anger and grief took turns beating against the inside of Dom’s skull like an insistent snare drum, sharp and overpowering.
Trey didn’t look away or run scared. He watched and waited and that was everything.
“We worked so hard,” Dom said. “We didn’t deserve this.”
“No, you didn’t,” Trey replied. Quietly, almost reverently. “You deserve to go up on that stage on Saturday and wow the crowd. You deserve to hear your names called on Sunday night as indie rock winners. You deserve to live your dream, Dom. So do Lincoln and Benji and Tyson.”
Dom waited for the empty sympathy, handed over by someone whose own band had just been pushed up into the competition in his place. But Trey didn’t give it. He grabbed Dom’s hand and held on, as if somehow aware that by saying “I’m sorry” it would make it all about Trey, when this was about XYZ.
“I was going to play my violin.”
“You were?” Dad asked.
Dom gave him a watery smile. “Yeah. Trey and Lincoln convinced me to work it into one of our songs.”
Dad’s pride shined through in his own smile. “What song did you pick?”
“‘Disarm’ by Smashing Pumpkins.”
“You would have been spectacular,” Trey said.
Dom grunted. “So much for my big fat fuck-you to Chambers.”
Joseph Chambers had been released with two years’ probation and all kinds of requirements to his parole.
Dom had used the Megan’s Law website to find out that he’d relocated to a county an hour north from where Dom had grown up.
He wanted the man back behind bars or somewhere remote like Siberia.
But the man was a registered sex offender, and if he got within twenty yards of Dom again, Dom had a host of people lined up to beat him to a pulp.
Two of those people were in the room with him.
“That creature doesn’t deserve any more of your energy,” Dad said.
Dom didn’t reply. He’d lost something that he’d raged against at first, and had then embraced as something he needed to do. And now he’d lost his chance.
Trey’s gaze had shifted to the side, and the tip of his tongue poked up between his lips. Thinking hard on something.
He started to ask, but his phone vibrated. Benji was calling. “Hey, man.”
“Hey.” Benji sounded tired but upbeat. “Listen, my parents are taking me home. Joshua’s parents are staying and will probably need to spend the night wherever you are. Hotels are impossible to find around here last-minute in the summer.”
“I’ll let Mrs. Sumpter know.”
“I’m coming back down tomorrow in my car. Joshua’s doing good, and they think he can be taken home as early as Friday.”
A small chunk of worry let go of his heart. “That’s excellent news. Good for him.”
“Yeah.” Benji made a sharp sound. “It sucks about Unbound, though.”
“I know. But we’re all alive, right? That’s the big thing.”
“Right. Call me when you know more about Linc, okay?”
“For sure. Take care, Benji.”
“You too.”
Dom relayed the news to Trey and his dad. The latter went to tell Mrs. Sumpter about the incoming guests, while the former hugged Dom from behind. “What were you thinking about so hard before?” Dom asked.
“Nothing for you to worry about right now.” Trey kissed the side of his neck. “Listen, I’m going to go home for a shower and a change of clothes. With daytime traffic, it might be two hours or so before I’m back. What can I bring you?”
“Something I can wear?” Dom’s clothes from the accident had dirt and blood on them, and after his shower Mrs. Sumpter had given him an oversize Phillies T-shirt and pair of running shorts that kept sliding off his hips. He’d have trouble keeping them up if he wore that outfit back to the hospital.
“Definitely. Anything else?”
“Just you.” Dom twisted his neck to press his lips to Trey’s. “Thank you.”
“Always. I’m sorry about this last month.”
“So am I. Forgiven and forgotten.”
“Ditto.” Trey deepened their second kiss, taking long enough to put the taste of him back on Dom’s tongue. “Try to sleep some more, and I’ll be back before you know it.”
“Be safe.”
“I will. Look at me driving again. You’re a good influence, Dominic Bounds.”
Dom grinned. “You’re the one who was strong enough to get behind the wheel. I’m proud of you.”
Trey beamed, pecked his cheek, and then untangled their limbs. He bounced off the bed. “Things are going to work out, Dom.”
“Hope so.”
He stretched back out on the bed after Trey left, already missing him but aware that the separation would be relatively brief.
Trey was coming back to him.
Napping turned out to be a wasted effort, so Dom eventually got up and wandered around the small beach house owned by Mrs. Sumpter.
She was an elderly woman, widowed, who’d been a college professor and mentor for his dad, and they’d stayed in contact throughout the years.
She had quite a large extended family, judging by the framed photos all over the walls, and she lived in an eclectic home a block from the Lewes and Rehoboth Canal.
He found her at the kitchen table playing cards with his dad.
“Can I get you something to drink?” she asked, already standing.
“Water is fine.”
She fetched a glass and filled it from a pitcher in the fridge. “Help yourself to more, dear.” Wrinkled fingers brushed his forehead. “Oh my, that’s quite the bruise.”
“I was lucky.” Of all his friends, Dom had been the farthest from the impact.
He’d been stupidly lucky, getting out of that mangled car with only minor injuries.
Memories of hauling first Benji and then Tyson out of the car, but not being able to get to Lincoln or Joshua, assaulted him.
The smell of motor oil and gasoline and asphalt, thick in the humid summer air.
Seeing his best friend bleeding and unconscious, and recalling what Trey had said about the last time he’d seen Allison.
A severed hand.
Dom registered the hard kitchen floor beneath his ass, uncertain when he’d sat down until he noticed his dad squatting next to him.
Panic attack.
Dad pressed the water glass against his lips and Dom obediently sipped. His heart was racing and his skin was clammy, and he sort of wanted to hurl. Dad put the glass down, and then started rubbing circles on Dom’s back. “Where were you?” he asked.
“The accident.” Dom shivered. “I haven’t really thought about it, except as this crazy blur, until right now. It all hit me at once.”
“I imagine it was pretty terrifying.”
“It was. I mean, the highway was empty, and then someone was pulling out onto the road from the right side. Either they didn’t see us, or they thought we were in the left lane, because suddenly headlights were shining in the side of the car.
I think they clipped us right when Lincoln tried to jerk the wheel, and we spun out. ”
He’d told the same thing to the police at the scene. He had no idea if they’d ever catch the asshole who sent them into a telephone pole and ran. Dom hadn’t really seen the second vehicle. The only thing he remembered was higher headlights, which meant probably an SUV or truck, rather than a sedan.
Useless information.
“I can’t believe the other driver didn’t stay,” Dom said.
“There are terrible people in the world, young man,” Mrs. Sumpter said. “Best we can do is surround ourselves with the best, keep them close, and let them help us deal with the bad.”
Sage advice. “Thank you, ma’am.”
“Ma’am. Robert, you raised a sweet boy there.”
“I know.” Dad smiled at him. “His mother and I are both incredibly proud of him.”
“As you should be.”
Dom soaked in the love and praise, and it helped him believe that maybe, just maybe, things really would be okay.