Chapter 7
Chapter Seven
Pen
As I pace the waiting room, Detective Faller walks in and goes straight to Dom. I’m glad it’s him and not his callous partner.
“Mr. Rossetti, Mr. Gallagher, I just want to reiterate that if you remember anything from today, I don’t care how minor the detail might seem, call me,” he says evenly.
“Do you have any leads?” Dom asks, his body taut like he would break in half if I touched him. So I keep the little distance I have between him and me.
“There might be something, but Longe and I are working on that.”
“There’s only one person,” Danny chimes in as he straightens in his seat and a sneer slides into place. “Brian Fitz.”
“He’s on the list,” Faller admits, then turns back to us. “Like I said, think of anything, let me know.” He glances around the room, smirks and then leaves.
“Did everyone see that?” Bobby asks as he unwraps a new sucker and sticks it into his mouth. If the band’s keyboardist keeps up with the sugar, his mouth will be full of cavities.
“Yeah, I’ve seen that look before,” Raef says, scratching at his scruffy jaw. “Appreciation.”
“Maybe he knows who we are and likes our music,” Danny adds with a half-cocked grin.
“No, Raef’s right,” Connor weighs in. “Appreciation of eye candy. And we are a handsome bunch.” The drummer chortles while his hands air drum to an imaginary beat.
“Babe.” John slides his hand around the back of his lover’s neck and squeezes. “Behave.”
“What?” Connor asks in mock innocence. “I’m only speaking truth. We’re hella hot.”
Soft chuckles echo around the room before quiet descends upon the space again, as we each reflect on the true reason why we’re here. Callum.
Then Tobias walks into the room, with Dante right behind him, and announces, “Callum’s asleep.”
“And you two left him alone?” Dom hisses as he takes a step toward the door.
Tobias’s eyes sharpen on Dom’s face. “No. The nurse is with him.”
Dom’s shoulder relaxes. “Sorry. It’s just that…”
“I know,” Tobias says knowingly, which confuses me. Does he know Dom and I have feelings for Callum? Does he know about the three of us?
“Do you really think Callum’s dad is involved in this attack?” Connor asks as he leans into his boyfriend.
“Anything is possible,” John says, squeezing the drummer’s hand.
Bobby drops down next to Raef and looks at the lead guitarist. “I didn’t get enough sleep in Vegas.”
Raef smirks. “Sleep? What sleep? I was at that damn poker table all night. I’m surprised I had enough energy to get to the condo before we got the call.”
“I ran out of money long before you,” Bobby gripes and looks away, pulling the sucker out of his mouth with a pop.
I glance over at Dom, who remains quiet but is staring at John and Tobias.
It’s like they are communicating without using their mouths.
I don’t know how those three do that, but it still boggles my mind.
I tried it myself once, attempting to convey what I was thinking to Dom by focusing my gaze on him.
Then once with Fig—Bobby’s security guy, who’s currently roaming the hallways of the hospital.
But each time was a wasted effort on my part.
My phone rings, and not a second later, so does Dom’s. I pull mine out and glance at my screen. My stomach bottoms out, seeing the name displayed. It’s my mother, Margaret Gallagher—Margie to her close friends and family.
I didn’t come out to my parents until the summer we went to Rocktoberfest for the first time. Before that, there hadn’t been a reason—every guy I’d been with was just a hookup. So I put it off as long as I could, knowing exactly how they’d react—and I was right.
My family practically excommunicated me. Ron says waiting was the smart move; otherwise, I’d have faced all that hatred way too young. But after I met Dom, and genuine feelings started to develop, and staying quiet wasn’t an option anymore. I had to tell my parents.
Still, it’s been kind of weird lately. In the last four months, my mother has been calling me. The first time, I was elated to hear from her, until I realized she’d gotten it into her head that she needed to talk me out of my lifestyle—her words.
Each call follows the same script: her reasons and God’s path.
She says she wants to understand me, but the words she ends up using make it seem more like she’s praying the gay away.
And I reply that God has nothing to do with my sexuality and not to call me again unless she wants to talk about other things in my life.
Like my music. The guys. Anything else other than who I’d prefer as my bed partner.
Ron says that I’m lucky that my mother wants to talk. But I don’t have to endure her verbal diatribe. Therefore, I stopped answering her calls.
Today’s call is her sixth this week. Despite all their homophobia and religious zeal, I still love my parents and miss them—or rather, the them I knew before I came out, but I can’t make myself a target any more.
I stifle a groan as I decline the call and shove my phone back in my pocket. Can you imagine what it’d be like if they found out about my relationship with Dom, and our hope that Callum joins us? No. I vow that will never happen—they’ll never know.
Sighing, I glance at Dom, whose face reflects a mild confusion. No one from the band notices the shift in tension, but I can see the way our security team are each poised stoically still, every pair of eyes trained on my man.
I walk over to him and quietly ask, “What’s wrong?” Dom meets my eyes and after a barely perceptible shake of his head, I shut my mouth. Later, I think he’s silently conveying to me. Wow—this silent message thing works!
Without another word, Dom leaves the waiting room, and I quickly follow. He whirls around and growls, “I need a moment, Pen.” Without a parting glance, he heads to the elevator and presses the down button.
“What the hell?” I mutter to myself.
“What did he say?” Tobias reaches my side, his eyes focused on Dom and the closing elevator door.
“He didn’t tell me anything. Just that he needs a moment,” I reply, feeling slightly gut-punched by Dom’s dismissive attitude and abrupt departure.
“Whatever it is, the message he got had to be bad news,” Tobias says evenly.
My lead is right. It has to be something monumental, if Dom’s leaving without telling me or checking on Callum. But I can’t imagine what it is. I hate it when Dom keeps things from me. And lately that seems to be happening more than I like.
“I’m going to sit with Callum.” I finally turn my attention away from the elevator, hoping that I’ll soon find out what his text message was all about.
“I’ll have Fig stay as your back up. Now I need to find Dante. I’m curious about what they had to say to Lyric.”
“I have no clue,” I admit and walk down the hall to Callum’s room.
My brain runs through possible reasons why Dom left so suddenly and why the band manager is nowhere in sight, and come up with nothing. But I’ve always been a patient man—my mom used to tell me Your patience is your fortune.
That memory brings me up short, as regret and sorrow filter in, blotting out my confidence, all because of one little word. Gay. I was gay for all the years they loved me, and I’m still me.
Jesus, I’m such a cliché. Inwardly complaining that my family doesn’t want anything to do with me while I should be thankful for my found family—the people who do care for me, and my job.
And Dom? After tonight, and the way he’s been keeping things from me, I’m not as sure about our relationship any more.
I sit with Callum, who’s in and out of sleep with the drugs in his system. I keep checking my phone but my messages to Dom go unanswered. Now it’s hitting the six-hour mark since he left, and Dom’s lack of contact has made my patience fly out the window.