Vann glanced to his left as he chewed his forkful of food, smiling as Drayton stared back at him. He loved how everyone welcomed Drayton each weeknight for dinner at the house. They were easing into a routine, and he definitely liked the idea of having some Dray time every night.

“Can you pass the salad?” Matt asked, setting down the pitcher of lemonade on the table.

Vann reached for the bowl, passing it to his right to Julian. He speared his own salad a few times and filled his mouth again, enjoying the tartness of the dressing and the crunch of lettuce. He glanced over to Drayton’s plate and watched as Drayton pushed one of the tomatoes aside on his dish. He still hates them. Vann quickly poked the small grape tomato and shoved it into his mouth, smiling when Drayton looked over to him and grinned.

“Matt, where’s the soda?” Ryan asked.

“Have some lemonade. It’s healthier,” Matt responded in that paternal way of his.

Ryan smiled. “And that’s exactly why I need the soda. To offset all this healthy stuff you make me eat. My body’s going into shock.”

A circle of laughter echoed in the eating area. Ryan stood and walked over to the pantry, grabbing one of the two-liter bottles Matt kept stashed for gatherings. He grabbed two glasses, filled them with ice, and soda—one for him and the other for Ben who chose to bypass the salad and head straight for one of the freshly grilled hotdogs.

Ben never cared to eat anything healthy or fancy and always dove straight for the rolls and basic burger or hotdog instead of the juicy steaks or skewers.

Vann smiled when Drayton squeezed his thigh under the table. The sneaky fucker always teased him when all the guys were around. He couldn’t wait until he had him alone later tonight on the back porch. Stealing kisses or feeling him up while keeping things on the down-low from the others in the house always spiked a hint of excitement in him.

Ben reached over the table to grab the mustard, accidentally tipping his overloaded hotdog on Drayton. He wildly moved his hands, gesturing an apology.

“It’s fine,” Drayton said, grabbing some napkins.

Vann glanced over to his left.

Time and space froze around him.

Everything blurred.

Every sound seemed muffled and distant by thousands of feet of water, reverberating where nothing was distinct.

His heart pounded in his ears. He parted his lips as each breath came quicker. He thought he heard his name called but he wasn’t sure.

Everything was a hazy blur except for one single point of focus—the red smear on Drayton’s shirt.

A flood of memories slammed him from every direction and thrust him into his nightmare at lightning speed. The coppery smell of blood filled his nose and the sound of Drayton’s breaking bones drilled into his ears.

Drayton’s soul-splitting yell thundered and echoed in his head.

The helplessness and ripping pain consumed him. He screwed his eyes shut and slapped his hands over his ears, desperately trying to block out the vivid memory poisoning his senses.

Drayton’s limp body.

The blood.

The bruises.

The sounds. Each strike. That yell.

Vann was transported back to the twenty-one-year-old version of himself, holding Drayton in his arms, begging on everything sacred in this world to take his life in exchange for the one he held in his arms.

“Dray!” The yell tore through Vann’s throat until his voice broke. He ducked his head between his legs, desperately trying to block everything out and dull the searing pain piercing his heart. He thought he heard his name, the sound trying to break through the suffocating darkness.

His hands were yanked away and he was pulled upright, an image of Drayton slowly sharpening in his vision. Those pale gray eyes, bright and alive. “Look at me.”

“Grab a towel,” someone yelled in a muffled voice he barely recognized.

He gasped each breath, begging the vision before him to be real.

Drayton. Strong. Breathing.

Warm, familiar hands braced his face. “Focus on me.”

Vann screwed his eyes shut, willing his mind to cooperate. He was pulled forward into a lean wall of muscle, the sound of a strong heart pulsing against his ear.

“Vann, I’m okay. I’m here with you.”

He gripped the shirt in front of him, anchoring himself to this version of reality that was far more pleasant than the nightmare that kept trying to claw him back to the darkness.

He timed his breathing with the rhythmic stroking of fingertips against his back, one inhale for each upward brush, and an equal exhale with each downward caress.

Vann pressed his ear closer against the strong heartbeat, letting the steady, healthy beat ease him back to the here and now. A cold towel pressed against the back of his neck, jolting him back to reality with striking speed. He blew out a calming breath, hesitant to open his eyes and risk spiraling back into the nightmare.

“Hold that there.” Julian’s familiar voice boomed with authority.

Strong arms wrapped around him, holding him close and keeping the towel in place as warm lips pressed against his temple.

“I’m okay.” Drayton’s whispered voice broke through the lingering haze in his mind. “We’re okay.”

He opened his eyes and slowly eased out of the embrace, pulling the towel away from the back of his neck. He swallowed heavily as he surveyed the room. The kitchen was brightly lit, and the smell of the food on the table filled his nose. He ducked his head, embarrassment flooding him with the worry evident in those five pairs of eyes staring at him.

“Tell me you’re okay, Shaw. I’m hungry and I’m not touching this food until I know you’re going to eat something.”

He peeked up at Julian, knowing this was his way of making sure he was okay while trying to lessen the discomfort.

“I’m fine,” he muttered, his voice hoarse. He took a deep breath, hoping to calm his racing heart. “I might jump right to the chocolate chip cookies though.”

The worry in Julian’s pale green eyes diminished as if he sensed the subtle thank-you in Vann’s response. “You’ll have to get through me first,” Julian said with a half smile.

“Eat up, guys,” Matt said, leaning forward and handing each of the guys a plate.

Vann tossed the towel from one hand to the other, thankful the house owners weren’t making a big deal about his little freak-out.

Drayton took the towel from his hand and folded it, setting it on the table. He cupped Vann’s face, drawing his attention. He didn’t need to say a single word, the worry in those gray eyes cut straight through to his soul.

He looked down at the red stain on Drayton’s shirt then glanced up again. “I’m okay,” he whispered. “I promise.”

Drayton nodded once and turned in his chair to face forward, clearly recognizing the last thing Vann wanted in that moment was to dwell on what had happened and compound the embarrassment in front of the others.

Ben gestured another apology, which Vann accepted with a weak smile.

Vann took a deep breath, steeling himself. That one night had changed his life forever and would haunt him until his last waking breath. He stared at the food on his plate, swallowing past the knot in his throat. He could do this.

Drayton reached under the table for him, taking hold of him and setting their clasped hands on his thigh. He awkwardly ate with his left hand, refusing to release Vann’s hand.

A slow current of peace spread through Vann’s body with the strong, grounding hold. He leaned in and pressed a kiss to Drayton’s cheek, not caring about the others sitting at the table or Ben’s stare focused on them.

He straightened in his chair and picked up his fork again, keeping his tight hold on Drayton’s hand, needing that connection to keep him grounded.

He pierced another forkful of salad and resumed eating his dinner, knowing he’d always find a way to make it through anything, as long as Drayton remained steady at his side.