Chapter Two
Travis sat staring at the cell phone in his hand. It’d been three days since Bo had given it to him, and he had yet to call him again. But he sure could use him right about now. Travis had woken up covered in flames—well, that had been what he thought when he jumped from his bed, yet again. Another nightmare—worse than the night before. Was five in the morning too early to call Bo? Would he be up getting ready for work? Travis felt like a fool for even considering it.
But his hands were shaking, and he couldn’t seem to calm down. Tears continued to stream down his face, which made him angrier. Such a damaged sap.
Travis had never asked for help before, but he knew he was losing the battle, and that his nightmares were bleeding over into reality. Bo knew about the nightmares; he’d understand. I hope. Travis pushed the button, and the phone began to ring on the other end.
“Travis, what’s wrong?” Bo didn’t sound groggy. Maybe he’d been awake.
“I just…I just…”
“Are you hurt?”
“No,” Travis gasped out between breaths. He knew he was hyperventilating but couldn’t stop himself.
“Another nightmare?”
“Yes, I just…I needed to talk.”
“I’ll do you one better. I’ll be there in two minutes. I started my shift at five.”
Travis was so freaked out by his nightmare he didn’t argue. Holding the phone tight against his ear, he started down the stairs, still in his sleeping clothes, and went to the back door. “I’m sorry to bother you.”
“You are never a bother. I’m pulling into the back parking lot.” When Travis saw the police cruiser, he opened the door. He knew he’d regret this later, but right now he couldn’t stand to be alone.
He watched as Bo parked, jumped out of his car and seemed to get to Travis’s side in the work of a moment. “Let’s go inside and talk, sweetheart.”
Travis caught the endearment. It was the first time Bo had said it, or anything like it. Travis decided to let it slide; he didn’t want to draw any attention to it, or get used to it. He led Bo up to the apartment. Travis knew it was small, but when Bo stood in the center, it became unbelievably tiny. Instead of sitting, Bo walked over and stood directly in front of Travis. He raised his big hand and gently wiped Travis’s cheek.
“Do you want to tell me what the nightmare was about?” Bo asked softly.
“I can’t.”
“You can’t remember or you’re not able to tell me?”
“I can’t. I can’t tell you.”
“You need to talk to someone about what’s bothering you. If not me, the therapist Dr. Green suggested before you left the hospital. I still have the therapist’s business card.”
Travis began to back away. He wasn’t crazy; he didn’t need therapy. Before he could take another step, Bo gathered him in his arms and held Travis tight. “Easy. Therapy is a good thing. It’s a safe place for you to talk about these nightmares.”
“I’m not crazy,” Travis insisted as he tried to break free of Bo’s hold.
“Of course you’re not crazy. Why would you think that?”
“You want me to see a therapist.”
“That doesn’t make you crazy.” Bo shook his head. “Hell, sweetheart. I’ve seen a therapist before, and you don’t think I’m crazy, do you?”
“No, of course not,” Travis mumbled.
“But I was in therapy. I needed someone’s help to get through a tough time in my life.”
“Why did you have to have therapy?” Travis wanted to know everything about this man but realized too late that might be a sensitive question.
Bo gathered him closer and buried his face in Travis’s hair. He leaned into Bo and was about to tell him he didn’t have to say a word when Bo began to speak.
“I didn’t start out my career on the Brighton Police Force. For the first five years, I was posted in Houston. I had the same partner for all those years, and we’d become friends. I would go over for Sunday dinner at Roy’s house with his wife and son. The couple had been high school sweethearts.”
“Had been?” Travis had a bad feeling about this.
“We got a call out to a domestic, and when we arrived, the house was dark. We waited for backup before we went in, did everything by the book. Once we cleared the living room, Roy and I headed down the hallway toward the bedrooms. The suspect burst out of a closet with a shotgun in his hands, pumping out rounds at us. I fired my gun, but I was hit in the chest and thrown back into the living room. If it hadn’t been for my bulletproof vest, I wouldn’t be standing here. By the time I regained consciousness, the suspect was dead, and so was Roy.”
“I’m so sorry,” Travis whispered, and his heart ached as he tried to comfort the big man holding him. The thought of Bo being hurt, or worse, made Travis’s throat close and his heart rattle against his ribs.
Bo held him closer and began rubbing Travis’s back. “Thank you, it was a long time ago, but I needed help getting through it. I went to therapy for a little over a year. It was the best decision I ever made.”
Travis stood there quietly taking it all in. Bo’s rhythmic rubbing was hypnotizing, and Travis almost forgot why touching was such a bad idea. Bo had to be able to feel the raised flesh and jagged scars through Travis’s thin T-shirt. He stiffened and began to pull away, but Bo held on tighter and continued to rub softly.
“Easy, sweetheart, it’s okay.” Bo voice was deep and comforting.
“No, it’s not. You don’t know.” Travis was tired of people saying it was okay, because it never was.
“Yes, I do.” Bo said gently as he trailed his finger across Travis’s chin, lifting it so that he was looking into Bo’s eyes. “You were pretty out of it at the hospital, and the gown they gave you really didn’t hide much.”
Travis froze. Holy shit. Bo had seen his body. He’d seen the puckered skin covering Travis’s back, butt, and legs. In some places, they had used skin grafts for more serious of the wounds. It took years for the skin to stretch enough for Travis to regain most of his flexibility. But worst of all were the burns to his genitals. He was hideous, and Bo knew his secret—and had known for weeks. Why did he continue to come around? He should have hightailed it to another county by now.
“Are you in any pain?”
“Not really, not anymore. Unless I reach a certain way,” Travis admitted.
“Do you want to talk about it?”
“I need to get ready to open the diner.” Travis freed himself from Bo’s embrace, taking a few steps back. He wasn’t ready to discuss his past; he didn’t know if he ever would be.
“Okay, but we’re not finished with our conversation about you going into therapy. What time are you done working today?”
“Four.”
“I’ll pick you up after work, and we’ll finish this over dinner. I’ll cook.”
“But…,” Travis began; he didn’t know if he should protest, cut Bo off, or throw himself into the strong man’s arms. Travis wanted to spend more time with Bo, but he knew how hideous Travis was, and no matter how wonderful Bo seemed, no one wanted to be with someone as damaged as Travis. “I can’t.”
“Then I’ll come back here and we’ll talk. We can bring dinner up from the diner. Either way, we’re going to get this therapy issue worked out.” Bo leaned forward and grabbed Travis’s hand. “I care about you. I want to help you. You can’t keep brushing these nightmares aside.”
Sure I can.
Travis had never talked to anyone about what happened. Sure, he’d answered medical questions at the hospital and during his long recovery at the rehab facility, but he never talked about the fire. Not to the social workers. Not to the shrinks they sent to clear him for release. Never. He didn’t know if he could. From the moment he regained consciousness and knew he was a disfigured mess, he’d wanted to bury that horrible day as deep as possible. But bastard that it was, it was seeping to the surface again. And he was suffering. He could at least admit that to himself.
It couldn’t hurt to discuss the possibility of therapy, right?
“I guess we could talk about it,” Travis agreed.
Bo’s smile was breathtaking. “Thank you.”
“I haven’t agreed to go yet.” Travis wanted to be clear.
“I understand, but you’ll hear me out. That’s all I ask. I’ll pick you up at four.”
“Okay.” Travis was in shock he’d agreed to discuss it.
“I’ll go downstairs and let you get ready. Meet you down there for coffee.” Bo squeezed Travis’s hand once then left the apartment.
Travis stood rooted to the spot. Shit. Bo knows. He’d seen how damaged Travis’s body was, and Bo hadn’t turned away. If the years had taught Travis anything, he knew that could, and likely would, happen at any time.
But…he’d lived a solitary existence for so long that letting someone in was probably impossible. Perhaps this was a first step.
Stop it. His imagination was running away with him. Bo was trying to help. Nothing more. He didn’t want to become part of Travis’s life. Who would?
His world had taken a strange turn this morning, and he wasn’t going to think past getting to work or he’d never leave the apartment.
He put himself on autopilot and got ready for his day.
*****
Bo sat at the counter flipping the business card for the therapist through his fingers. Dr. Gordon was supposed to be one of the best. He’d checked the guy out before recommending that Travis see him. Gordon had treated many first responders in the area; he’d be perfect for Travis. Bo wished he could help, but he knew a professional would be the best option.
He heard Travis’s footsteps on the stairs before he saw the beautiful man come around the corner. His gorgeous pale blue eyes looked apprehensive, but there was a small smile creasing his face, which gave Bo hope.
“I’ve started the coffee,” Bo told Travis as he went behind the counter.
“Thanks. I have to put on the bread and biscuits, so I won’t be able to have a coffee with you this morning, but I’ll get you one. Do you want it to go?”
“Yeah, if you don’t mind.”
Once Bo had his coffee and was on his way out the door of the diner, he couldn’t help but smile. He was having dinner with Travis and he was going to insist they have dinner at Bo’s place. But what was he going to make? He couldn’t cook. Of course, he was never going to admit that when he’d suggested it to Travis. Bo knew what he had to do. Time to call in reinforcements.
It was early, but his parents would be up. Henry and Dot Mason never slept in. They were up at five every day. Bo took out his cell to call them. After a few rings, his dad picked up the phone.
“Are you okay?” His father’s deep voice came across the line.
“Yeah. I’m fine.”
The other phone in the house clicked, and his mother came on the line. “Robert, is something wrong?”
“Yeah. I can’t cook, and I’m having dinner with Travis tonight.” His family already knew Bo was attracted to Travis. Christ, half the town did, the way he was mooning over the man. Only Travis seemed oblivious.
“That’s wonderful, son, but you’ll give him food poisoning if you try to cook for the boy.”
“So, it’s an emergency.” His mom laughed.
“Yes, what am I going to do? I’m picking him up at four.”
“Buy a cookbook,” his dad suggested, and Bo could tell he was fighting back his laughter.
“Not helpful.”
“Don’t you worry, son. I’ll whip something special up for your man,” Mom assured.
“Thank you. You’re a lifesaver.” Bo knew he was lucky to be so close with his family, which included three sets of aunts and uncles and over a dozen cousins, as well as Grandma Rose, who was the matriarch of the family. Though his family had their share of not-so-perfect situations—his cousin being arrested by the FBI came to mind—they were a tight bunch. Of course, they argued like cats in a barrel, but they always loved each other. He wondered about Travis’s family; he never spoke of them.
“Now what would you like to serve him for dinner?” Mom asked.
Bo already had an idea of what would be perfect. “Would you make your four-cheese lasagna with Caesar salad and garlic bread?”
“Perfect, and it doesn’t hurt that that’s your favorite meal as well.” Dad laughed.
“Travis will love it. I can’t thank you enough.”
“We’ll have everything at the house before four. You’ll have to put the lasagna into the oven to finish cooking it, but I’ll leave instructions.”
They said their goodbyes, and Bo pulled out of the parking lot as Sarah was pulling in to start her shift. He waved before turning the cruiser toward the station. The chief had planned a staff meeting for this morning. There were seven full-time officers on the Brighton police force and three part-timers. All were dedicated to protecting the people of Brighton, even if that meant Bo had to give his friends and family tickets on occasion. Grandma Rose had a bit of a lead foot.
He parked out front, alongside two other cruisers, and walked into the old two-story brick building that had been the police station ever since Bo was a child. Behind the front desk was their dispatcher, Joanne, an older lady who was only a few years away from retirement. She treated each of the officers like they were her children, and there was always a plate of sweets on her desk. Sadly, she’d lost her only child in a car accident over a decade earlier.
“Hey, Joanne. You’re in early today.” Another dispatcher worked the night shift and weekends.
“Good morning, Bo. Chief Graham wanted me to attend this morning’s meeting. I brought breakfast sandwiches. They’re in the breakroom.” Joanne tilted her head back. “You go in there and get yourself one before they’re all gone.”
“Yes, ma’am.” Bo headed straight for the sandwiches. Joanne was an excellent cook.
Bo walked into the breakroom and found three other officers helping themselves to the breakfast treats.
“Morning,” Bo greeted as he took one, and after a round of “good mornings,” they all sat down and ate in silence.
Conversation started up as soon as the last bites had been devoured. By then, the room was filled with officers who knew each other well. With such a small force, they were close. They had monthly barbeques, a softball team, and everyone knew each other’s families. This was one of the many reasons why Bo liked living in a small town—the sense of community.
Chief Graham walked in and the room quieted. “Good morning, everyone. We’ll meet in five minutes in the boardroom,” Dave said, before grabbing a sandwich and walking out.
Bo stood and started for his desk when Grady, a new officer who had come from Dallas, stopped him in the hallway. “Hey, Bo, can I talk to you for a minute?”
“Sure. What’s up?”
“I wanted to ask you about the new guy who started a few months back over at the diner. You’ve talked to him?” Grady asked, and immediately Bo gave Grady his full attention.
“His name is Travis. What about him?”
“Do you know if he’s seeing anyone?”
Bo’s face must have said it all because Grady took a step back before holding his hands up in surrender, “I didn’t know, man. I would never poach.”
“No harm done. He’s a wonderful man, and I don’t blame you for noticing, but yeah, I’m interested.”
“Enough said, I understand. No hard feelings.” Grady held out his hand. They shook, and Bo patted Grady on the back.
No doubt Travis attracted attention from men and women, but he hadn’t been prepared for it to hit so close to home. If he hadn’t already, Travis was going to get other offers from men attracted to him. But Travis was special; a man had to earn his trust before he would ever consider letting anyone get close. Bo had firsthand experience in that department.
Bo’s heart hurt every time he thought about the pain Travis must have gone through to sustain burns like that. Knowing what Travis endured and the resulting scarring didn’t change the desire Bo had for Travis. If anything, Travis’s strength to go on day after day, clearly alone, made him even more attractive. The man was beauty and strength wrapped up in a kindhearted bundle, and Bo was head over heels. He needed Travis to give Bo a chance to show how good they could be together.
Bo walked into the boardroom, joining the chief and the rest of the team. There was a map on the wall with a number of red push-pins in it. Something was up.
The chief stood at the front of the room waiting for everyone’s attention. The room quieted.
“There’s a situation that could be heading our way. Over the last month, there have been five armed robberies in small towns along the interstate.” The chief turned and pointed at the map. “It’s been the same male suspect in every case. He’s targeting general stores and small businesses, and he’s getting closer to Brighton. We need to be prepared in case his next stop is our town. I’ll be handing out a description of the suspect and the reports on each robbery. We need to stay vigilant. He’s already shot and killed two innocent bystanders.”
Questions began to fly from around the room as each officer took a copy of the file.
“How far away was the last robbery?” Grady asked.
“Are there other agencies involved?” a voice asked from the back.
“The last holdup was roughly one hundred and twenty miles away. It’s been two weeks since the last incident. We think he’s laying low. There is a manhunt, and all area agencies have been informed, but as of yet, no one has been able to catch him. There’s been plenty of false reports, and people are scared. That’s why we need to be on the lookout for anything out of the ordinary until he’s captured. Most of us know or have seen every person in this community so an unknown male traveling alone would stand out. Check abandoned properties across the county in case that’s where he’s hiding. Stay safe and alert at all times. We know he has no compunction about using the weapons he’s carrying.”
After answering a few more questions, the chief called the meeting to an end and the team left. By the time Bo reached his patrol vehicle all the information on the crimes and the suspect were already downloaded to his mobile data terminal. He knew his unease wouldn’t leave until the suspect was caught; after all, everyone he cared about was in Brighton.
His family, friends, and Travis could be at risk.
Nothing could be more terrifying.