The Lost Days (Prairie Town Book 3) (16 page)

Devin’s eyes darted back and forth between his, filling with more tears as he opened his mouth to say something, but quickly closed it again as his Adam’s apple bobbed.  It was easy to see the pain hidden behind his beautiful hues—it only made Nick want to fix whatever damage had been done.

Someone had hurt him.  They’d hurt him badly and all Nick wanted was to wrap him up in his arms and take the pain away.

It was crazy to even have such notions; they barely knew one another, if at all.  But that was Nick’s downfall and he knew it.  He cared too quickly, and too much. 

One day it would probably kill him.

“You can talk to me, Devin.  You know that, right?” His voice remained gentle and low.  Sliding his thumb over his trembling bottom lip, he inhaled quietly and smiled.  “Even if you can’t remember who it was or why they did it, you can feel it, can’t you?”

Ever so slowly, Devin nodded.

“You know you’re a good person, don’t you?  Tell me you know that.” He pleaded as he rested his forehead against his.  “Whatever your mind keeps telling you about being bad and terrible...I need you to forget that.  I need you to focus on the good, Devin.  Life is way too short to dwell on what has been or should have been.  You’re going to be miserable if you keep letting it eat at you.”

“But—”

“Nope.” He silenced him with his finger against his lips, shaking his head.  “None of that.  You have to stop, Devin.  Stop punishing yourself for a past you don’t even remember.  Stop living with that guilt.  Whatever you did, whoever you were, that doesn’t matter anymore.  The person who hurt you?  They don’t matter anymore either.”

Devin’s eyes closed and a tear slid down his cheek as he released a shaky breath.  Nick wasn’t sure if he was getting through to him or not, but a small part of him hoped he was; Devin didn’t deserve to live a life of guilt over the mistakes of his past. 

How could he help him move past it?

“I know who hurt me.” Devin’s voice became raspy, heavy with emotion.  “I may not remember it up here,”—he touched the side of his head—“but I remember it everywhere else.  When I’m around him...when I’m around him, my skin crawls and I feel like I’m going to puke my heart up.  I don’t have to remember to know he did terrible things to me.”

“Who?” Nick was practically cradling him in his arms as he awaited a response.  Anger simmered beneath his skin as he tightened his arms around Devin’s frame, holding him as comfortingly as he knew how.  “Who makes you feel that way?”

Devin’s eyes snapped to his and the sadness behind his hues suddenly turned into anger.  “My dad.” He whispered, and then he licked his lips. “From the first moment I laid eyes on him, I swear the hairs on my arms stood on end; I was uneasy around him every time he came to visit, which wasn’t often.  I’ve always had a bad feeling in my gut when it comes to him.  I didn’t know why.  I wasn’t sure what it was until I got out and went home.  I was alone with him for ten minutes and...”

His voice trailed off again.  Blinking and dropping his gaze between their bodies, Devin’s face contorted with a mixture of pain and disgust.  He was fighting an inner battle and Nick knew he couldn’t help with that, but damn it, he’d try.

“Did he do something to you?” His voice trembled as he grasped Devin’s chin and forced him to meet his gaze.  “Did he?”

“No.  At least not that time.” Devin pulled away from him suddenly and turned around to lean against the table, bowing his head.  “But it’s like my body remembers.  I don’t know what he did to me, Nick, but every fiber of my being hates that man.”

He didn’t necessarily like the possibilities running through his mind.  Had Devin’s father abused him?  And if he did, in what way?  His blood curdled at the thought, just the tiniest possibility of sexual abuse being involved, and then it turned into magma as he circled his arms around Devin from behind and rested his chin against his shoulder.

“I don’t want you to remember it,” he confessed quietly, and he closed his eyes. “If it was something so bad, so awful, please don’t remember it.”

Devin trembled in his embrace and all Nick wanted to do was comfort him. 

It’s too soon.

Devin’s shoulders began to shake as a sob ripped past his lips and all Nick wanted to do was protect him.

He isn’t like me. This will never be more than friendship.

Devin turned around and buried his face against his chest, weeping from the forgotten pain buried in his heart and all Nick wanted to do was make his life better.

How can I care so much for someone I barely know?

Devin wiped at his cheeks furiously, sniffling and hiccupping from the obvious frustration and agony he had experienced his entire life, and all Nick wanted to do was prove to him he wasn’t a monster.

He’s broken; I can fix him.

“I’m s-sorry.”

“You don’t have anything to be sorry for.” His arms tightened around him and he rested his forehead to his once more.  “You really don’t.  The past is the past.  This is the present, Devin.  It can be so much better than what you’ve known.”

“I don’t know anything.” Devin rolled his watery eyes.  “I don’t...I can’t...”

“You can’t what?  Tell me.” He cupped his face with both hands again, searching his eyes.  “You can’t what, Devin?”

“I can’t allow myself to believe that I deserve anything wonderful.” Another tear fell, and then another.  “Why should I deserve good things when all I’ve ever given to people is grief and destruction?”

“No.” Nick’s jawline tightened as he traced his thumb along Devin’s bottom lip, fighting the urge to kiss some sense into him.  “I won’t let you do this to yourself, do you understand?  That’s bullshit.  Everybody deserves good things.”

“But—”

He wasn’t sure how it happened—well, he was a little sure, obviously—but their mouths suddenly connected and it was like lighting a roman candle on the Fourth of July.

His heart pounded and his stomach twisted into knots as Devin’s mouth hungrily claimed his, again and again.  The wick was lit now, and he had to make a decision.

Hands grabbed for whatever they could find, groans of pleasure filled the air, and Nick prayed no one got burned in the process.  He either had to hold the candle in his hand and watch the beautiful colors burst forth, or he had to let go.

He didn’t want to let go.  Not now—not ever.

God, he was on fire.  Flames of desire licked up his back, engulfed his chest and numbed his brain as he shoved Devin against the table.  The sound of a bottle hitting the floor and shattering barely reached his ears as his tongue fought for dominance inside the other’s mouth.

This can’t happen again.

Devin’s hands fisted the front of his shirt, tugging him closer; desperate for the intimacy Nick longed to give him. 

He doesn’t even know if this is what he wants.  He doesn’t know much of anything right now.

Common sense finally kicked in just as Devin’s teeth raked over his bottom lip, and he tried to pull away.  He had to stop it before it could begin.

“Devin, we—”

“Don’t.” Devin pleaded, breathless.  He pulled Nick back to him and nuzzled the tips of their noses together.  “Don’t stop now.  I may never be brave enough to do this again.”

Swiping his tongue over his tingling lips, he eyed Devin cautiously, wishing he could read his mind.  The kid was shaking like a leaf, his eyes dark with lust—Nick wanted nothing more than to fulfill his needs and give him the happiness he’d been deprived of, but what would happen after that?

What if Devin ultimately decided he wasn’t into guys?

It’s a risk I’m willing to take.

He leaned into him again and kissed him, groaning from the sweet taste of sugar on Devin’s lips.  A hunger deep inside him grew stronger and more adamant than he’d ever known and he knew, he knew in that very moment, things between them would never be the same.

So much for being roommates...

Devin gasped in surprise when his back hit the table.  Nick eyed him like a tasty entrée and his mouth literally watered as his shirt slid upwards, revealing the small hairy trail beneath his belly button.

Follow that damn trail.

He dove down like a hungry predator and captured Devin’s mouth again, their hips pressing together.  They both released guttural grunts of surprise when Devin’s arousal rubbed against his; the damn denim material separating them would have to go.

“You’re hard for me.” He growled near Devin’s ear, smirking.  “Do I turn you on?”

“Yes.” Devin panted, lifting his hips to meet Nick’s once, twice.  “You have no damn idea.”

Slowly sliding his hand down, Nick chuckled as he palmed him over his jeans.  “I think I have a bit of an idea.”

Devin’s head fell back against the table and a sweet moan slipped past his parted lips as Nick kissed his neck, licking and nipping as he expertly popped open the button of his pants and reached inside to claim his prize.

Hissing in response, Devin’s eyes snapped open and he thrust his hips upwards.  “Fuck...”

“It’s okay to like it, you know.” Nick held his gaze as he began stroking him.  “I’d be mighty happy if you loved it.”

“I...I...Oh...” Closing his eyes once more, Devin relaxed against the table and bit at his lip.  “I do love it.  I do.”

“Good.” He kissed his chin and then began his journey down his body, kissing at the exposed skin of his stomach before he grabbed the waist of his jeans and pulled them down.  “Now, let’s see what you’ve got for me, hm?”

“Whatever you want.” Devin sighed.  “Take it. Fuck.  I don’t care.”

“You’ve got a dirty mouth after all.” He was amused, and seriously turned on.  “Good thing I got one, too, huh?”

Eyeing Devin’s cock as it sprang free from the confinement of his jeans, Nick silently thanked God for such a beautiful specimen.  Hell, he still wasn’t sure how they ended up like this, with Devin partially naked and rock hard on his table, but he wasn’t going to question it either.

“You don’t remember anyone doing this before right now, right?” He paused briefly, fingers curled around the base of Devin’s thick erection.

“N-no.  I don’t remember,” Devin stammered, squirming on the table.  “Your hand feels nice – don’t stop.”

“You think my hand feels nice?” He smirked like the arrogant bastard he sometimes was.  “Just give me a minute.”

K
elly

Nick and Devin had been working on the basement almost constantly for over a week.  Try as she might, and very shyly so at that, she couldn’t seem to catch a moment alone with Nick to talk about what had happened.

She needed to know if the kiss they shared had meant something to him—it sure as hell had meant something to her.

But it was almost impossible to get him alone.  Devin always seemed to be there—not that she was complaining—and she didn’t really want to bring it up around him.  Why?  She wasn’t sure, but she didn’t feel comfortable trying to discuss such a thing in front of him.

Was she afraid of hurting his feelings?  Oh, Heavens no.  Devin had never given her the impression he liked her in any way other than that of a friend; it was stupid to assume he found her attractive, right?

It was thoughts, exactly like that, that had her distracted at work.  She wasn’t getting as much work done as usual and her ability to concentrate was definitely at an all-time low. Nick had infected her, somehow, and she couldn’t think about anything else.

“What has got you acting so weird?” Lydia asked as she took a bite of salad and groaned in satisfaction.  “Holy hell, that’s delicious.  What kind of dressing is that?”

“Barbeque Ranch.” Her eyebrows pinched together and she glanced towards the fridge in the furthest corner of the break room.  “Do you want more?”

“No, I want you to answer my first question.” Lydia grinned.  “You’ve been in another world for, well, forever now; what’s got your attention?”

“Oh, it’s stupid.” She pushed her hair away from her face and rested her hands against the back of her neck, and then she sighed.  “It’s really stupid, Lydia.  I’m acting like a damn teenager.”

“Ooh la la!  It’s about a guy, isn’t it?” Lydia’s eyes sparkled.  “It’s about Nick, right?  You only act like a teenager if you’re crushing on somebody.  Details, please?”

“Oh, no. No, no.” She shook her head.  “I am not getting into this conversation.  You’re worse than Laney, you know that?”

“Thank you.” Lydia winked.  “Speaking of Laney,”—she took another bite of salad and held up a finger, signaling she needed a moment—“she’s,”—she swallowed and grabbed her drink for a quick sip—“getting married.”

She almost dropped her fork.  “What? Since when?  I didn’t know Benji proposed.”

“Mm, just last night.” Lydia took another quick drink and smacked her lips together, practically bouncing up and down in her seat.  “It was the cutest thing ever, I hear.  He even asked Dad for his permission.”

“Awe.” Her hand flew to her chest and rested over her heart.  It ached a little at the memory of Patrick asking her grandfather for her hand.  It had been
after
they got married in a small chapel a few hours away, but it still counted in her mind. Patrick had been so nervous—she was, too—but it was something she’d never, ever forget.  “That’s so sweet.  Benji’s such a good guy.”

“He is, and he makes her happy; that’s what matters most to me.  I want Laney to be happy and I know he’ll be good to her.”

“He better be.  How did he do it?”

“He took her out for a romantic dinner and then they went back to Mom and Dad’s.  I reckon he got down on one knee right there on the front porch.  Mom cried. Laney cried.  Everybody cried.”

“That sounds so lovely.” Her voice cracked a little.  Clearing her throat, she smiled in spite of the tears forming in her eyes and nodded.  “That is very lovely.”

“Kelly Jones, I need to ask you something.” Patrick grabbed her hand and pulled her to his chest, smiling from ear to ear.

“What are you up to, Paddy?” She laughed and glanced around nervously.  They were right in the middle of the gymnasium. 

He’d just finished with his workout and she was already late for supper; her grandparents were going to kill her if she didn’t make it home on time.  Again.