meant he was listening to me. It’s not always going to be with words. I won’t always hear his voice in my head, and I don’t know if I ever really have. But he spoke to me, just the same. He showed me the way, and it led to you. I don’t think I’ve ever moved as fast as I did then.”
I chuckle, wiping my eyes. “You were very fast.”
“Wasn’t I?” he says, sounding pleased.
“They didn’t stand a chance.”
“Michael’s husks,” I hear him growl through the door. “They are nothing compared to me. I don’t know why he thought they could do anything. They are abominations. I don’t know why they are allowed to exist. Soulless creatures who do not serve anyone but him.”
“Will they come again? The Strange Men?”
“I don’t know,” he sighs. “Maybe, after a time. Not right away. He’ll have seen what I am capable of. And I’m sure he’s got much more to worry about than just me.”
“Are you… getting sick?” I ask, the blood roaring in my ears. “They said you were weaker. They said you shouldn’t stay here.”
“Lies,” he says firmly. “Just words. I am fine. I am strong.”
“You sent them away. You sent them into the black.”
“I know,” he says, sounding pained. “They… they were threatening you and I couldn’t stop myself. I couldn’t see you hurt.”
“You are not the judge,” I remind him, allowing my words to harden. “You are not the jury. You are not the executioner.” And I cannot judge you. I can’t. Not when….
“I know.” Barely a mumble.
“You do not decide fate.”
“I know.”
“What did my mother whisper to you?”
I don’t think he’s going to answer. But then: “She told me I have to protect you. That you’ve been alone for so long you may not remember how to live. She wants me to show you how.”
“And you promised her that?” I ask, heart sore.
“Yes. Always.”
“Cal….”
I hear him shift on the other side of the door, rising up until I’m sure he’s standing above me. I wait.
Finally: “Benji?”
“Yeah?”
He’s hesitant, almost shy, his words like a staccato beat. “Can you open the door now? I’m sorry if you’re still mad at me. I just don’t want to be alone anymore. Okay? Please?”
I close my eyes. So many things are still unsaid between us, but I no longer have the heart to bring them out. For all that I have suffered, it’s nothing compared to his grief. I had my father. For sixteen years, I knew joy. I knew complete happiness. I saw the sunrise every day because I saw the man who created me every day. I knew the weight of his arms on my shoulder, the rumble of his voice, the sound of his laughter. I knew love because I was loved. I was my father’s son.
No. I am my father’s son. My father would not have allowed another to wallow in anguish, to drown himself in a river. My father would not have allowed despair if he could have helped it. My father was the greatest man who ever lived, even with all his faults. He would know what to do. He would know what was in my heart.
“You gonna leave again?” I ask him gruffly, opening my eyes.
“Only if you make me,” he whispers. “Please don’t make me.”
My heart breaks and I jump to my feet, flinging the door open. He’s standing so massively tall, the shadows from the dark dancing across his face. He’s breathing heavily, and the glitter in his eyes knocks the breath from my chest. The red stubble across his face looks wonderfully rough. He looks almost feral, like he’s poised to attack, but still he waits.
But I can no longer deny him, or deny myself. He spreads his arms as I leap at him. He catches me deftly, crushing me into his chest. The scent of him invades me, threatening to tear me apart. His lips find mine as he lifts me up. I wrap my legs around his waist as my tongue meets his, tangling as he takes a lurching first step. I want to push into him further, until he can feel my thunderous heart breaking against my chest, until he can see that my sorrow is not so different than his. We are the same, I think as he grips the back of my neck with one gigantic hand, holding me steady so he can kiss my lips, my cheeks, the tip of my nose.