---

All the euphoria from lunch evaporated in the split second it took Dillon to get from the school to his car, only to be replaced by raw fear. He peeled out of the parking lot, not caring that his tires squealed or that half the school probably heard it. He had to get to Jamie. He was out there, in the cold, alone, and grieving for his best friend.

Dillon drove like a maniac, taking the most direct route to Jamie's house. He found Jamie about a block from school, walking in what Dillon could only describe later as a trance. He pulled over and rolled down the window. "James?"

Jamie turned to look at him, his eyes glassy and dazed. "Dillon?"

"Yeah, James, it's me."

Jamie shook his head, as if he was trying to clear it. "You heard about Ben?"

For the second time that day, Dillon put his car in park and got out to go to Jamie, this time approaching him with a delicate care he hadn't known he even possessed. The last thing he wanted to do was frighten him and make it worse. The blank look on Jamie's face scared the daylights out of him, but he did his best to keep the worry from showing.

"I heard." He took Jamie's hand and led him, unresisting, to the car. "Let me take you home, baby. You shouldn't be out here by yourself." He helped Jamie into the passenger seat and buckled him in. Closing the door, he whipped out his cell phone and removed the card Brandon Nash had given him from his pocket. Home. He'd try the home number first. He just prayed to God someone was there who could help.

When Nathan Nash picked up on the second ring, Dillon wanted to weep with relief. "Hello?"

"Dr. Nash?"

"Yes?"

"Dr. Nash, it's Dillon Carver. I need your help."

"Dillon? What's the matter, kiddo? Are you okay? Is Megan?" The concern in Nate's voice was almost Dillon's undoing, but he knew he had to stay strong for Jamie.

"Megan and I are both fine, but Jamie isn't doing so hot. To be honest, Doc, I'm scared to death here."

"Jamie? You mean James Walker?" The light must have dawned, because Nate said. "Oh my God. He was dating Ben Lewis, wasn't he? Then he knows?"

"About Ben's death? Yes, sir. They weren't dating, but they were close. And the whole school knows. Principal Morgan announced it right before sixth period."

Nate swore. "Brandon is gonna have kittens over that one. How did Morgan find out, anyway? Brandon's still out at the scene, and I know for a fact he hasn't made a press release."

"I don't know. I missed the announcement, but, according to Megan, he didn't give any details. Morgan just basically said, 'Ben's dead,' and that was it."

Nate swore again, this time using a more colorful word that seemed out of place coming from the staid doctor. "What's done is done, but I feel damn sorry for Morgan when Bran finds out." He blew out a deep breath. "So, what's going on with James?"

Dillon looked towards the car, where Jamie was sitting, stock still in the same position Dillon had left him in. "I'm not sure, Doc. I found him on Harp Street, about a block from school. His eyes are glassy, and he seems really confused. It's almost like he's not even in there."

"It sounds like he's in shock. Where are you now?"

"Still on Harp Street. I called you as soon as I got him in the car. I was gonna take him on home, but I wasn't sure if he needed to go to the hospital or not."

"Usually, if the shock is fairly mild, the patient does better in his own home. Where does Jamie live?"

"2238 Lambert Lane. He lives with his aunt. She's probably not home, though. She usually keeps busy during the day." A thought occurred to him. "Should I try to get in touch with her?"

Nate said, "Go ahead and get him home. I'll meet you there, and then I'll call her myself after I've checked him over. That way I can explain what's going on, hopefully without scaring her to death."

"Okay, Doc. I'm headed there, now. And Doc? Thanks."

"I'm glad to help, Dillon. You go take care of James, and I'll see you in a few."

Dillon disconnected and returned to the car. Even when Dillon got in and closed the door behind him, Jamie didn't stir. With one eye on Jamie and the other on the road, Dillon drove the rest of the way to Sadie's house.

He pulled into the driveway and turned to Jamie. "James? We're at your house. Do you have your keys?"

With the same blank stare on his face, Jamie reached into his pocket and handed over the keys, but made no move to get out of the car. Dillon ended up having to lead him into the house.

Once inside, Dillon said, "Come on. Let's get you upstairs and into bed." Jamie just stood there, not saying a word. Dillon got behind him, and, putting his hands on the slight curve at Jamie's hip, guided him up the stairs

Jamie's room was located on the far side of the upstairs hall. Unlike the rest of the house with its Victorian wallpaper and heavy furnishings, Jamie's room was pure Jamie. The walls were painted a deep burgundy, and the drapes and coverings for the queen-size cherry bed were a warm shade of green. The rest of the furniture, which included a dresser, a table, a couple of chairs, and a computer desk, were finished in the same cherry tones as the bed. But instead of the posters and pin-ups most teenage boys had scattered across the walls, Jamie's room was decorated with magnificent architectural sketches he'd drawn himself and Aunt Sadie had framed. He was gonna make a heck of an architect one of these days. Dillon only hoped Jamie would allow him to be there to share in his success.

Dillon moved Jamie to the edge of his bed. "James? I'm gonna undress you now so that you'll be more comfortable, okay?"

When Jamie didn't say anything, Dillon took the silence as agreement and grabbed Jamie's long-sleeved t-shirt, pulling it over his head. It wasn't until Dillon started removing the t-shirt he wore underneath that Jamie started whimpering.

"James?"

Jamie's voice was ragged, laced with upset, "Please, don't. I can't . . . I don't--"

"Shh." Dillon rubbed his hands up and down Jamie's arms. "It's nothing like that, I swear. I just want to make you comfortable so you can rest until Dr. Nash gets here."

Something in Dillon's voice must have reassured him, because he allowed Dillon to strip him down to his boxers without further protest. The sight of Jamie's near-naked body, well-toned without being overly muscular, had Dillon fighting a losing battle with his rapidly hardening penis. He willed it to go down, mentally cursing at it, calling it names. Damn. That was the last thing Jamie needed to see.

Thankfully, Jamie wasn't paying attention, and Dillon was able to get him under the covers without incident. Jamie curled up into a ball, closing his eyes and burrowing under the blankets. Dillon stared at him for a full five minutes, his heart aching for the pain Jamie must have been going through. Eventually he left, pulling the door to and going downstairs to wait for Nate.

He didn't have to wait long. He'd just reached the front hall downstairs when he heard the doorbell. Without even checking to see who it was, he turned the knob, letting Nate in with a weary sigh.

"Dr. Nash, you have no idea how glad I am to see you."

Nate placed his medical bag on the floor and closed the door behind him. "How many times do I have to tell you, Dillon? My name is Nathan or Nate. No more of this Dr. Nash stuff." Then he did something that surprised the heck out of Dillon. He wrapped both arms around him and pulled him into a crushing hug.

What surprised Dillon even more was how good it felt. Neither of his parents were touchy-feely folks. His mother was moderately affectionate, but his father rarely ever did more than pat him on the back, and the older he got, the less often that happened. Dillon found himself returning the hug tenfold.

"It's gonna be okay, kid. I promise." Pulling back, Nate said, "Where's James now?"

"Upstairs, in his room. I thought he might rest better in bed."

"Good thinking. Which room is his?"

"Last one at the back of the upstairs hall, to the right."

Nate nodded. "I'm going to go up and examine him." He reached down and picked up his bag. "Why don't you see if you can find a phone number for his aunt while I check him over?"

"I will." Phone number? Shit. He smacked his forehead. "I've got to call my boss. He's gonna wonder where I am."

"Go ahead. I'll come back downstairs as soon I'm done."

Dillon waited until Nate was on his way upstairs and then pulled his cell phone back out. Dialing the number from memory, Dillon waited for someone to pick up.

"Savings Central Drugs. How can I help you today?"

"Carl? It's Dillon. Is the boss around?"

Dillon wasn't surprised by Carl's next question, considering they went to the same school, though Carl was only a sophomore. "Hey Dillon. Did you hear about Ben Lewis?"

"Yeah."

"Oh wow. I bet it was a drug deal gone bad. Everyone knew Lewis was a user. Either that, or a suicide. Oh, or a gay love triangle. Bet James Walker found him with another guy and offed his ass."

Dillon gritted his teeth. "Carl, could I please speak to Mr. Pembroke?"

"What? Oh, sure Dillon. Just a sec while I get him." Dillon was stuck listening to a lame rendition of a Garth Brooks song while he waited for what seemed like an eternity. He'd just about decided to hang up and try again when Jim Pembroke picked up.

"Dillon? Carl said you needed to speak with me. Sorry it took so long, son. I was in the back taking inventory."

"No problem, Mr. P. I was calling to tell you that I'm not gonna make it in. I know it's short notice, and I swear I'll make up the time."

"Nonsense. You're the best worker I've got. You've come in above and beyond what was asked of you. In fact, I think this is the first time you've ever called in to tell me you weren't coming." Pembroke paused. "I hate to pry, Dillon, but is everything all right?"

"I think it will be soon, sir. I just need time to get a couple of things sorted out. If that's okay?"

The warmth in Mr. Pembroke's voice was reassurance itself. "You just take care of business, and I'll see you as soon as you can make it back in."

"Thanks Mr. P. See you soon."

After hanging up, Dillon searched around for some idea of where Sadie might be. He'd just abandoned his efforts when the front door opened and Sadie came barreling inside. She spotted Dillon immediately.

"Dillon Carver. What are you doing in my house? And whose Buick is that in the driveway?" She looked around the living room, then marched down the hall to the kitchen. Coming back into the living room proper, she said, "Where on earth is Jamie, and what in the blue blazes is going on?"

Dillon was saved from having to answer by Nate, who came back downstairs at exactly the right time. "I think maybe I can clear that up, ma'am." Nate walked into the living room and motioned towards one of the richly upholstered sofas. "Do you mind if we sit down to discuss this, Miss Banks?"

Sadie put her hand to her chest. "Dr. Nash, what are you doing here? Oh, lord. Is it Jamie? Is he all right?"

Nate took her elbow and led her to the sofa, joining her there and gesturing for Dillon to take one of the wingback chairs. When all were seated, Nate said, "Miss Banks, James has suffered a mild shock. Dillon found him wandering out on Harp Street, dazed and confused. He picked him up and brought him here after calling me to come and check him over. I gave James a brief examination, and it's my feeling that the shock is only temporary. I can write him a prescription for a mild sedative, if you'd like, but in all honesty, I prefer to let these things run their course, especially given the nature of the situation. If you'd like a second opinion, however, I'll understand completely."

Sadie shook her head. "That won't be necessary. I know your reputation, and I feel comfortable enough to go with you on this. But, Dr. Nash--"

"Please, call me Nathan."

"Only if you'll call me Sadie. Now, as I was saying, I appreciate you coming and looking Jamie over, but if someone doesn't tell me exactly why my nephew is in shock, and just what in the bloody hell is going on, I swear before the Lord Jesus Almighty I will pull out my Grandmother Bank's cast-iron skillet and lay open every last one of your thick skulls."

Dillon could tell that Nate was doing his best not to crack-up. "You're absolutely right, Miss Sadie, and I'm sorry for not explaining earlier. This afternoon, Brandon got a call about a suspicious death. Since today was his day off, the call came through to the house. I'd just finished up a shift at Chicago General, so I was at home when the call came in. I can't give you any of the details, mainly because what little I know hasn't been released yet. Since it seems that Principal Morgan jumped the gun and made the infamous 'announcement' over the loud speaker at school, I think it's safe for me to tell you that the victim was Ben Lewis."

Sadie pressed her knuckles to her breastbone. "Ben Lewis is dead? No wonder Jamie's in shock, Lord love him. He must have heard that idiot Morgan's little speech." She sighed. "Are you sure he's going to be all right? Can I see him?"

"He was resting when I left, but of course you can see him anytime you like. As for whether or not he'll be all right, my belief is that he'll start to come out of it soon. If we don't see an improvement over the next four to five hours, I recommend that we take him on into Chicago to have him examined more thoroughly than I can do here." He stood up. "Now, if you'll excuse me, I'm going to go call Brandon and let him know where I am and what's going on. If Jamie's initial shock wears off the way I think it will, I'd like to have Brandon talk to him directly and explain exactly what happened."

Sadie nodded. "That sounds reasonable to me. I'll let him rest until the sheriff gets here. Oh, did you need to use the phone in the kitchen?"

"No, ma'am. I have my cell with me." Nate pulled it out of his pocket. "I'll just take my bag back out to the car and place that call." It wasn't until after he left that Dillon realized he was alone. With Sadie.

The minute Nate was gone, she did her version of a verbal pounce. "While I appreciate you bringing Jamie home, Dillon, given the dubious nature of your recent relationship--namely the fact that you threw my nephew away like a piece of trash two years ago--I think perhaps it's time for you to go."

The metallic taste of raw panic rose into Dillon's throat. He'd just re-established a slight connection with Jamie, tenuous at best, but enough to have him hoping. He couldn't lose it now. Clearing his throat, he said, "Miss Banks, please don't send me away. I promise not to cause Jamie any pain, but I . . . I need to be here."

Sadie's hawk's eyes narrowed on Dillon's face. "And why is that?"

Dillon's voice was choked with emotion, but he kept his eyes locked with Sadie's. "Because I'm gay, and I'm in love with him."

Instead of the stunned silence he expected to come from his announcement, Sadie nodded and said, "Thought so."

Dillon felt like he'd been whapped with a brick. "You knew?"

Sadie shrugged. "Just because I never married doesn't mean I don't know what love looks like, nor does it mean I couldn't see the way you and Jamie smiled at each other when you thought I wasn't looking. And it didn't take an act of genius to realize why the two of you spent so much time up in Jamie's room. Didn't take me long to put together the reasons why you broke off all ties with him, either. You were afraid your parents would find out, weren't you?"

"Yes, ma'am." He got up and paced the length of the room. "I got scared and ruined every thing."

Sadie leaned back into the soft cushions of the sofa and smoothed her fingers over the skirt of her dress. "And what about now, Dillon? Aren't you still scared? You and I both know your parents have been nothing if not vocal in their opposition of homosexuals."

Dillon turned back to face her, his voice stronger this time. "I am scared. I won't lie about it. I know that my folks will toss me out, and I also know that I'll be basically on my own. I'm scared of their reaction, scared of the future, and scared of having to face it all. But I intend to tell them--and everyone else--all the same."

"If you're so frightened, then why come out at all?"

Dillon came back to sit beside her on the couch. "Because, as scared as I am of what's gonna happen to me once I come out, I'm that much more terrified of living without James for another minute, much less the rest of my life."

Sadie reached out and ruffled his hair the way she had when he and Jamie were kids. "You know you're going to have your work cut out for you, don't you?"

"Yes, ma'am."

"Well, for what it's worth, you have my support."

The front door opened and Nate came back in before Dillon had a chance to tell her how much that meant to him. The look on Nate's face was grim as he removed his coat.

"Brandon's on his way here. I'll let him explain everything." He hung his coat on the hall tree and tucked his gloves into the pocket. "I'm not sure how much of what he has to say will help James, but we can always hope. I'm going to check him over one more time before Bran gets here."

Sadie and Dillon both nodded. Dillon longed to go upstairs with Nate, but forced himself to wait, instead. He prayed that whatever the sheriff had to say would give Jamie some peace, but the gnawing in his gut told him otherwise.

* * *

Jamie fought his way through a fog of whispers and stirrings. He kept the truth about Ben at bay by pushing at it with a blank wall, a wall of carefully crafted ignorance. He could hear someone talking to him, but in the fuzzy blankness, it didn't matter. Here, in this place, Ben was still alive because Jamie said it was so.

Gradually, though, the fuzzy comfort began to ebb. The reality of someone in his room, prodding at him, urging him back, proved to be too much. He didn't want to go. He fought and struggled, but in the end, he was no match for the hypnotic pull of consciousness. He opened his eyes to see Nate Nash standing over him.

"How are you feeling, kid?"

Good question. He wished to God he knew how he was supposed to feel. Be nice if someone would just tell him how to feel and be done with it. Instead of saying all that out loud, his only response was a feeble shrug. He hoped his non-response would prompt the doctor to leave.

Nate more than matched him with persistence, though, and he showed no signs of giving up or going away. He sat down on the side of the bed. "Do you hurt anywhere, James? Any nausea or dizziness?"

Jamie's reply was little more than a soft grumble. "No. I just wanna go back to sleep."

Nate's eyes were filled with sympathy. "I know you do, but I need you to stay with me for a few minutes. Can you do that?"

He didn't want to. He wanted to yell, to tell the doctor with the kind words and soothing tones to get out, to leave him alone. But being raised by Sadie Banks marked a person with good manners for life. He heard his own voice betray him by saying yes.

Nate said, "Good. Brandon will be here in a few minutes, and I think he'll want to talk to you."

Jamie's voice sounded small, fragile. "About Ben?"

Nate reached forward and smoothed Jamie's hair away from his brow. "Yes, James. About Ben."

Jamie backed away from the touch, as far as he could without unwrapping the layer of covers he had banded around him. Nate backed off, but didn't move from his post on the edge of the bed. "I know you're hurting, James, but you have people who care about you, who understand what you're going through. Let us help."

Jamie's initial shock was slowly being replaced by anger. How dare this guy come into his room and start claiming he knew how Jamie felt? Manners be damned. Jamie sat up.

"You don't know how I feel."

If Nate was surprised by the venom in Jamie's voice, he hid the reaction well. "I know it seems that way to you right now, James, but I swear, I do know what you're going through."

That did it. "Oh yeah? Did you lose your best friend?" Jamie was all but snarling.

Nate's reply was basic, matter-of-fact. "Yes."

Nothing dampens the fires of anger better than being proved wrong smack in the middle of a boiling rage. Jamie looked down at the covers. "Oh. Sorry."

Nate actually smiled. "It's okay, James. I was angry when I lost my Amy, too. Perfectly natural reaction."

Amy? That name sounded familiar. Then it hit him. "Wasn't that the lady doctor who was killed in an explosion?"

Nate's eyes took on a far-away gleam as he nodded. "That was her. Dr. Amy Vaughn. She and I came here together from Georgia to open a medical practice. I won't re-hash all the details, but the explosion which cost Amy her life was actually meant for me. I was a complete basket case after she died. It took me nearly a month just to function like a normal human being again."

"How long were you guys friends?"

"Almost twenty-years."

Jamie felt shame overtake him. "Damn. I'm such a prick. You lost your best friend of twenty-years, and here I am making you relive it when I barely knew Ben a tenth of the time you and she were together."

Nate reached for Jamie's hand, and this time, Jamie didn't pull away. "Two years or twenty, it doesn't matter. It still hurts to lose someone you care about. Every thing you're feeling right now is perfectly natural. Don't be surprised if you have a wide range of emotions to deal with over the coming days and weeks."

Jamie sighed. "When does it stop hurting so bad?"

Nate squeezed his hand. "I don't think the sense of loss ever goes away completely, but it does get easier to handle. I wish I could give you a time table, but it's different for everybody."

A knock on the door stopped further conversation. Nate looked to Jamie. "I imagine that's Brandon. Are you ready for this?"

He wasn't, but that didn't keep him from nodding in agreement. Nate called out, "Come in," and Brandon Nash entered the room.

Nate crossed over to where he stood and greeted him with a bracing hug and a peck on the cheek. "How'd it go?"

Brandon draped his right arm around Nate's waist. "We won't know anything more for a few days, not until the coroner's report comes in." He glanced towards the bed. "Is he ready for this?"

A spark of anger returned. Jamie sat up straighter on the bed "You don't have to talk around me like I'm not here."

Brandon grinned. "Sorry about that. According to Nate, that's a bad habit of mine."

Jamie hunched one shoulder. "S'okay."

"So, are you ready to hear this?"

Jamie leaned back against the pillows. "No, but I want to hear it, anyway."

Brandon nodded and dragged one of the chairs closer. Straddling it backwards, as was his favorite position, he waited for Nate to resume his seat on the edge of the bed, then said, "I'm only gonna be able to tell you part of it, because this is an ongoing investigation, but I'll do my best to tell you all I can."

"Okay."

"Just after breakfast this morning, I got a call about an accident out on Tully Road. The body of a young man was found, fully clothed, lying on the side of the road not far from a black, older model Firebird."

"Ben."

"Yes. We'll have to wait for the autopsy before we declare an exact cause of death, but all preliminary reports indicate he was the victim of a hit-and-run."

Jamie clutched the blankets tighter. "He was murdered? You've got to launch an investigation, call in the F.B.I., whatever it is you do. You've got to put out an A.P.B. on the killer's car. You've--"

"Hold it." Brandon put up both hands to stop Jamie's tirade. "Do all you kids O.D. on T.V. crime dramas?" Under his breath, he said, "When I get my hands on that idiot Morgan, I'm gonna rip his ass a new one for making that damn announcement." He turned back to Jamie. "In the first place, nothing found at the scene indicates that Ben Lewis was murdered."

"But you said--"

"What I said," Brandon spoke slowly, much like one would speak to an unruly five-year-old, "was that Ben was the victim of a hit-and-run. Yes, it's a crime to hit someone and leave the scene of an accident. When I find the person who did it, you can bet your last buck that I'll see his ass prosecuted. I've got my men searching for the car even as we speak. But that doesn't mean that it was a case of intentional homicide."

Jamie's blank look more than conveyed his lack of understanding. Nate stepped in. "What he means, James, is that Ben's death was probably unintentional, and the guy who hit him ran scared and left the scene. Tully Road hosts a string of beer joints a mile long, literally. More than likely, the guy was drunk, didn't see Ben standing there, hit him, and then panicked."

"Why would Ben be out of his car in the first place?"

Brandon leaned his arms on the back of his chair, resting his chin on his forearm. "I can answer that. Ben's front tire on the driver's side was flat. Since his car was pointing back in the direction of the Reed City limits, he'd have been facing traffic while trying to change it. We found a disassembled jack and a tire iron not far from the body. Most likely, he'd just gotten them out of the trunk and was headed back to the front of the car when he was hit."

Jamie wasn't sure what to say. He appreciated the sheriff's honesty, and he was glad to know what happened, but that didn't take away the loss. If anything, knowing that Ben's death was probably the act of some drunken asshole made it worse. His death was meaningless, just one more statistic on some nameless tally somewhere.

Nate cleared his throat. "Do you have any questions for us, James?"

"Just one. Did he," his voice cracked. "Did he suffer?"

Brandon shook his head. "I can't say for sure, not until the report comes back, but I honestly don't think so. Going by his injuries, I'd say death came quick, if not instantly."

Jamie went back to picking fuzz balls from the blankets. "Thanks." He took a deep breath. "If you don't mind, I think I'd like to be alone right now."

Nate stood up, and Brandon did the same. "We understand, James. I'm gonna leave a prescription for a mild sedative with your aunt, just in case you need it. And I'll make sure she has all our numbers. You can call us anytime, for any reason. Also, if you're okay with it, I'll come back tomorrow to check on you, just to make sure you're all right."

Jamie nodded and lay back down, burrowing beneath the covers again, his eyes already closing. Brandon gave him an awkward pat on the shoulder before leaving, but Jamie barely felt it. He sank back into the merciful darkness and was asleep before they even left the room.

How long he actually slept, Jamie had no idea, but the first face he saw when he woke up was Dillon's. He was sitting in the bedside chair, doing his homework. The minute Jamie stirred, though, Dillon was at his side, his books and papers scattering across the floor in his haste.

His green eyes sparkled in the dim light from Jamie's bedside lamp as he leaned over to better see him. "Hey, you're awake."

"Yeah. What time is it?"

Dillon checked his watch. "Eight-thirty."

Jamie sat up, wiping the sleep from his eyes. He turned to Dillon. "I thought you had to work tonight?"

Dillon eased down on the bed beside him, tucking one leg under his body. He was careful not to touch him, but they were close enough that Jamie could feel the heat coming from Dillon's body. "I told my boss I wouldn't be in this evening."

"Why?"

Dillon shrugged, but Jamie noticed he was starting to look a little bit wary. "I thought you might need me, and I wanted to be here in case you did."

For the first time since waking, Jamie gave Dillon a good looking-over. His hair was mussed, and his eyes were bleary, He looked tired, and the worry he was feeling was plain to see. For some reason, the sight of Dillon angered Jamie. So he'd been worried? So what? Jamie had just lost his best friend, the one person who was there for him when his life fell apart. No, when Dillon ripped it apart. For the first time since learning of Ben's death, Jamie felt warm--hot, even--as two years of pain and an afternoon's worth of grief mingled and came spewing to the surface.

"You thought I might need you?" Jamie was all but snarling, his sudden outburst startling Dillon so much that he jumped off the bed as if he'd been shocked. "That's funny. You thought I might need you. What, like I needed you two years ago? Like I needed you to touch me instead of using me like some blow-up doll to get your rocks off?" He came out from beneath the covers and stood, oblivious to the fact that he was wearing only his thin, cotton boxers. "You know what, Dillon? I didn't need you. Know why? Because I had Ben. When you fucked me over and tossed me away, he stepped up. He was there for me. You think now that he's gone you can just slide in and take his place?"

Dillon took a step back. "No, that's not what I think. I told you, I want us to be friends again."

Jamie kept advancing. "Uh-huh. Like we were friends two years ago? What's the saying? Friends with benefits? Someone to watch movies with, go to ballgames together. Oh, and lets not forget, someone to bend over and take it up the ass whenever you're feeling froggy."

Dillon swallowed, his eyes misting. "I know what I did to you, James. I've lived with the guilt and shame of it until it feels like I've never been without it. There's nothing you can say to me or about me that I haven't said to myself."

Jamie was so close that he was practically in Dillon's face. "Oh, yeah? Well, how about this? Get out. Get out of my house and out of my life."

Dillon's spoke softly, but his voice was strong. "You don't mean that."

By now, Jamie was full-on yelling. "The hell I don't. You threw me away two years ago, and now it's my turn. My turn to hurt you, to make you feel like you're bleeding internally, deep down where nobody can fix it. Like Ben probably bled." The tears came, damn them, but he blinked them away. He had to finish this, had to wound Dillon the way he'd been wounded. "You wanted Ben dead so he'd be out of the way. For all I know you hit him yourself, then left him to die on the side of the road like some dog." No amount of blinking was gonna stop the tears this time, but Jamie ignored the flow of water down his cheeks. "I hate you, more than I've ever hated anybody. You took him. You took Ben. Oh, God, he's gone." It was too much. Jamie's knees gave way beneath him.

Two strong arms caught him before he hit the floor. Dillon scooped him up, cradling him to his chest as Jamie sobbed through the pain, the misery. He felt himself being carried back to the bed. He thought he should probably protest, but he didn't have it in him.

Dillon laid him in the middle of the bed. As Jamie watched through the sheen of tears in a strange mix of fear and fascination, Dillon pulled his shirt over his head. Jamie heard his shoes fall against the hard wood flooring as he toed them off, along with his socks. He made quick work of shedding his jeans, but the disrobing ended there, leaving him clad only in a pair of tight gray boxer-briefs. His body was even more defined, even more beautiful, than Jamie remembered. The anger began to fade as Dillon slid under the covers and gathered Jamie against his chest and into his arms.

Jamie shuddered from the contact, causing Dillon to pull the covers tighter around them, the hard muscles of his chest bunching beneath Jamie's cheek as he moved. "You warm enough?"

"Yeah." Only after he said it did Jamie realize that his sobs had stopped.

Using one corner of the blanket, Dillon wiped Jamie's eyes and cheeks. Jamie felt like he should say something, but he wasn't sure what. "Dillon--"

"Don't try to talk right now. Just rest."

He shouldn't have been tired, but he was. Still, as crazy as it seemed after ordering Dillon out of his house not ten minutes earlier, there was one fear he had to cast aside before he could go to sleep again. "You won't . . .leave, will you?"

He could feel the soft rumbling against his ear as Dillon chuckled. "I think it's a safe bet that you aren't gonna get rid of me anytime soon."

Jamie closed his eyes and pressed his cheek against Dillon's bare, heated skin. "Dillon?"

"Yeah?"

"I don't hate you."

Dillon ran his fingers through Jamie's hair, brushing against his scalp and making Jamie tingle down to his toes. "I'm glad you don't, James. Now rest. I promise I'm not going anywhere."

Jamie nodded and then allowed the sound of Dillon's heartbeat to lull him to sleep.

* * *

Dillon woke with a start to find Jamie's left leg draped over both of his. He took a minute to savor the feeling of Jamie's body wrapped around him before he looked down at his watch. Damn. Eleven o'clock. He was gonna catch hell for this one.

Taking care not to wake Jamie, he disentangled himself and then sat up, rolling Jamie onto his other side. He couldn't help but smile over the way Jamie grumbled in his sleep and then scooted back over to find the warmest spot. He allowed himself only a minute to enjoy the sight of watching the man he loved sleep before reaching down and picking up his jeans, retrieving his cell phone from the right front pocket. Dillon punched in the number, watching the whole time to make certain he wasn't disturbing James. Other than the rhythmic rise and fall of his breathing, Jamie didn't make a sound.

His mother picked up almost on the first ring. "Hello?"

"Hey, Mom. It's me."

"Dillon, where are you? Do you have any idea what time it is? You were supposed to be home two hours ago."

"Yes, ma'am. I do know that, but something came up."

"It had better be a matter of life and death, young man, to justify staying out to all hours like this."

Well put. "Actually, it was. Ben Lewis's body was found today. I'm sure you heard about it at school."

"Yes, I did. Most unfortunate, but not surprising considering the lifestyle he chose. Those people usually come to a bad end."

That again. Dillon was a stone's throw away from telling her that he was one of those people, but he stopped short. Tonight was about Jamie, not him. There'd be time enough for true confessions later. Gritting his teeth, he said, "Regardless of whether or not he was gay, the guy's dead, Mom."

"As I said, Dillon, that's unfortunate, but I don't see what that has to do with you? I mean, you and Ben Lewis were hardly friends. The two of you did your level best to tear each other apart at the dance. I talked to Principal Morgan today. He said the only reason he didn't expel the both of you is because Sheriff Nash hauled you downtown. He figured that was punishment enough. You're lucky."

Dillon loved his mother--he really did--but sometimes she could be so dense it set his teeth on edge. "I'm sure Ben will really appreciate not being expelled now that he's dead. Must be a huge load off his mind."

Angela Carver's voice took on that acid tone that Dillon so hated. "Your sarcasm is not appreciated, son. And you have yet to tell me what Ben Lewis's death has to do with the reason you didn't come home."

His next words would be the beginning of the end, but Dillon wasn't backing down. "James Walker was Ben's best friend. He was devastated by what happened. I found him out on the road after Principal Moron's announcement, wandering around in shock. I brought him home, and that's where I am now."

"I thought your father and I made it clear that we don't approve of your friendship with that boy."

"That boy was the best friend I ever had. If I'm lucky, he will be again." That and a thousand things more.

"Dillon, I'm not sure what's gotten into you tonight, but we'll discuss this when you get home. I expect you here within the next fifteen minutes."

"No."

"I beg your pardon?"

Dillon was shaking, but he kept his voice steady. "I'm not coming home tonight, Mom. I promised James I wouldn't leave him, and I'm not going to."

The ice in his mother's voice made Dillon feel ill. "I don't recall giving you a choice."

He was already in it up to his eyeballs. Might as well finish himself off. "You may not have given me a choice, Mom, but I made one just the same."

"So I see. Your father and I are going to discuss this, Dillon. I expect you to be at home tomorrow when I get in. Principal Morgan has called a teachers meeting directly after school thanks to this nasty business with Lewis, but it shouldn't take more than an hour. I'll ask your father to come home early, and the three of us are going to have along talk about your attitude and your association with James Walker. That's not a request."

"Yes, ma'am."

His mother hung up without saying goodbye, but Dillon didn't care. It wasn't like she was gonna be talking to him for much longer, anyway.

A soft voice broke him out of his revere. "I guess I got you in a world of shit with your folks, huh?"

Dillon looked down into Jamie's face. He was glad neither of them had thought to turn the lamp off before they fell asleep. In the muted light, Jamie looked so achingly perfect that Dillon had to fight with himself not to lean down and kiss him. Instead he said, "You big faker. How long have you been awake?"

"Long enough to know that your mother is mad as hell."

"So, what else is new?"

Jamie sat up, the sheet falling away from his waist, exposing his flat stomach and making Dillon itch to trace the slight indentation of Jamie's belly with his tongue. It took him a minute to realize Jamie was speaking to him. "Still, I hate being the one to cause problems for you and your family."

"It's not your fault they're bigots, James. I think it's sorta like poetic justice that two of the biggest homophobes in Reed got stuck with a gay son. Talk about a karmic bite to the ass."

Jamie laughed, the first time Dillon had heard that sound since lunch. "I guess so. I never really though about it like that."

"Let's not even worry about it right now." Dillon slouched down a bit so he could see Jamie's face. "How are you feeling?"

"I don't know. I don't think it's really hit me yet, you know?"

"I guess that's normal. Probably take a few days to sink in."

"Yeah." He lowered his eyes. "I'm sorry for all that stuff I said to you. I didn't mean it. I know you didn't have anything to do with Ben's death."

Dillon gave a slight tug to the hair and the nape of Jamie's neck, forcing his head up. "You have nothing to be sorry for. It was no secret that Lewis and I weren't overly fond of each other." His voice turned husky. "I am glad you don't hate me, though."

Jamie blushed, then went for the subject change. "I did rest better that last time. Thanks for . . .um, you know."

"Stripping down and getting into bed with you?" Jamie nodded and tried to hide his eyes again, but Dillon wouldn't let him. He turned enough so that they were facing and put one hand on Jamie's neck, just below his chin. "It was my pleasure, believe me, but it wasn't exactly an original idea."

Jamie scrunched his eyebrows together. "What do you mean?"

"Did Dr. Nash--I mean Nate--tell you about losing his friend Amy?"

"Yeah."

"Well, just before he left, Nate told me that he had a breakdown after Amy died. When he finally let himself cry it out, Brandon did the same thing with him that I did with you."

"Well, I'm glad he told you about it, because it worked."

Dillon moved his fingers back and forth over Jamie's throat. "Thank God it did. It hurt me so bad to see you suffering like that." He moved closer, so that his leg was practically on top of Jamie's. He lowered his head. "I wanted so much to make the hurting stop."

Jamie lifted his chin and closed his eyes. Dipping down, Dillon could almost taste him. His own eyes fluttered shut. They were almost touching, when the door flew open.

Sadie stood in the doorway, wearing pink pajamas and a long, fuzzy white robe. She hid a grin as the two of them scrambled to opposite sides of the bed. "You're awake. Thank heavens. I was starting to worry. Are you feeling better, then, Jamie?" Her tone was even, just as if she found her nephew in bed with a half-naked man everyday.

"A little." He looked at Dillon from the corner of his eye. "Dillon helped me through the worst of it, I think. For tonight anyway. Dr. Nash said grieving is a process, but I think I'm at least on my way."

"I'm glad to hear that." She gave Dillon a knowing smile. "I assume you're spending the night?"

It was Dillon's turn to blush. "Yes, ma'am. Um, that is, if it's all right."

"Of course. Though, perhaps it would be better if you passed the remainder of the night in the guestroom." An order, not a suggestion. She might be open minded, but even that had its limits.

"Yes, ma'am." Dillon started to get out of bed, but remembered he was wearing only his underwear. "Uh, Miss Banks?"

Sadie laughed. "I'll just make certain the guestroom bed has fresh sheets."

As soon as she left, Dillon scrambled into his jeans. The rest of his things he gathered into his arms to take with him. He was all loaded up and on his way to the door when Jamie said, "Dillon?"

"Yeah?"

"Sweet dreams."

Dillon smiled down at him. "You too." He knew Jamie's would be anything but sweet, right now, anyway. But someday soon, he hoped they would be. And maybe, if he was lucky, those dreams would include him.

* * *

Dillon parked his car in the usual space. Shutting off the ignition, he turned to Jamie. "You sure you want to do this? Your aunt said she'd write you an excuse so you could stay home today."

Jamie zipped his coat and donned his gloves. "So I can do what, sit at home all day and think about Ben? About how much I'm going to miss him? I'm better off here." His voice dropped so low that Dillon could barely hear him. "I'm better off with you."

Dillon reached over and squeezed his hand. "Okay, then. Meet me back here for lunch?"

"How about meeting me at the lockers, instead? It's too damn cold out here."

Dillon laughed and got out of the car. "I'll see you then."

If days went any slower, Dillon had never seen one. Besides a myriad of cracks about the fact that he was wearing the same clothes he wore yesterday, Dillon's school day started with a thirty minute period of mourning for Ben Lewis led by none other than Dan Morgan himself. The auditorium was filled to the brim with crying girls (most of whom had no idea who Ben Lewis even was) and a passel of laughing jocks who saw this as a prime opportunity to perfect the fine art of the spitball. Dillon did his best to catch a glimpse of Jamie, but the throng of pseudo-grievers made it impossible. Megan sat beside him through most of the assembly, rolling her eyes every time Morgan started in about the "brevity of life" and the "utmost importance of living each day to its fullest." A few times, Dillon was certain he'd laugh out loud. Once Megan even stepped on his foot to keep that from happening. The mark of a true friend. The one bright side during the whole assembly was that he didn't see his mother either. Time enough for the crucifixion after school.

The three remaining classes before lunch weren't much better. Lots of talk about Ben from people who wouldn't have spit on him if his guts were on fire. Not while he was alive, anyway. Seems that sudden death made a guy downright popular.

When the fourth period bell rang, Dillon was ready. He had vivid fantasies of kidnapping Jamie and keeping him for the rest of the day, the two of them shutting out the whole world. Unfortunately, Ashton Barnes and Chad Minton put a stop to that.

They were waiting for Dillon at his locker. Ash and Chad made quite a contrast. Ash was tall and slender, whereas Chad tended towards to the short, chunky side. Ash's hair was a rich black, cut fairly short and shot through with auburn lights which made his brown eyes seem even darker. Chad was a blue-eyed blond with a buzz cut. Ash was old money, and Chad was no money. Even so, Dillon could count on one hand the times he'd seen one without the other. Hell, they even went out on the weekends screwing girls together: Ash and his girl in the front seat of his BMW, Chad and his girlfriend du jour in the back. Now that was devotion.

Dillon was hoping Jamie would come so he'd have an excuse to leave, but he saw no sign of it. Hell, he'd hoped to squeeze in as much time with Jamie as possible, but it looked like he was gonna have to make small talk with Barnes and Minton, instead. He motioned Chad, who was leaning against Dillon's locker, out of the way, and fumbled with the lock. "What's up?" It wasn't until after he said it, that Dillon noticed how angry Ash looked.

Ash stood with his fists balled, his feet braced, and his spine rigid. "I heard some rumors about you, Carver. I was hoping you might clear 'em up for me."

Dillon threw his books inside and slammed the locker door. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Megan and a several others gathering in the hall. An audience. Well, wasn't that just heaven on a stick.

Dillon leaned one shoulder against the metal door, keeping his voice calm and his posture relaxed. "Rumors, huh? You don't say."

"That's right. Word has it you spent the night at James Walker's house last night. Considering those are the same clothes you had on yesterday, I'm guessing it's true." Ash was doing all the talking, but Chad stood beside him, bobbing his head in agreement every time Ash spoke. He reminded Dillon of those little flocked-plastic dogs people put on the dashes of their cars.

Dillon was the poster boy for who-gives-a-damn, but inside he was seething. Damned if he'd let it show, though. As calmly as if he were discussing the cafeteria's mystery meat special, Dillon said, "I'd be glad to clear that little rumor up for you, Barnes, but seeing as how it's none of your business, I don't think I will."

Ash stepped closer. "I'm making it my business, Carver. Word's out that you and Ben Lewis were fighting over James that night at the dance. I also heard that you had lunch with him yesterday."

Dillon crossed his arms over his chest. "What are you, Barnes? The friendship police? I wasn't aware that having lunch with a friend or spending the night with a buddy was a crime."

Ash wasn't giving up. "Yeah? Well, the way I hear it, you and Walker are a lot more than friends. What's up, Carver? You fagging out on us?"

Oh, this was just great. Ash was the one who called him about the planned gay bashing at the dance. What was with this homophobic jock routine? Well, to hell with him. Dillon wasn't going to play his little games. In as clear a voice as he could muster, he said, "No, Barnes, I'm not fagging out on you."

He heard a noise behind him and turned to see Jamie, his face pale and stricken. Dillon had been about to clarify his last statement, but Jamie didn't know that. He though Dillon was going to deny him yet again. The spark of anger Dillon had seen last night was now a blazing inferno.

Jamie threw his books on the floor and faced Dillon, not caring that he was six inches shorter and about forty pounds lighter, or that half the school was watching him. He looked so small and so cute, that Dillon would have laughed over the whole damn thing if it weren't for the look of pain in Jamie's beautiful eyes.

"So much for coming out, huh, Dillon? Tell me something. Exactly when weren't you 'fagging out'? Was it when I was on my knees sucking your cock that you weren't a fag? Or were you just a straight boy in disguise all those times you fucked me?"

That was it. The whole city of Reed could watch for all he cared, but Dillon was gonna show Jamie how he felt about him once and for all. "I never fucked you."

Dillon could see the tears forming in Jamie's eyes. He started to speak, but Dillon put up his hand. "Not yet. You've had your say. It's my turn now." He turned his back on Barnes and all the rest, using his body to force Jamie backwards until he was up against the lockers, with Dillon in his face. Putting one hand on each side of Jamie's head so he couldn't get away, Dillon spoke, his voice loud enough for everyone within twenty feet to hear, his eyes only for Jamie.

"What I was about to say when you walked up, James, was that I wasn't 'fagging out' because that implies that I just woke up one morning and became gay. How can I 'fag out' when I've known for sure that I was gay for over six years?"

The gasps and whispers behind him following that little announcement reminded Dillon of something you'd hear in a cheesy movie. If they thought that was a shocker, the illustrious student body of Plunkett High hadn't seen anything, yet.

"And as far as the other part goes, I stand by what I said. I never fucked you, James." Jamie tried to protest, but again Dillon cut him off. "I was a selfish bastard. I got off on you without ever giving anything back, and for that I'm more sorry that you'll ever know. Even as lowdown and rotten as I was, though, I never once fucked you. Every time I slid into you, every time you took me into that sweet, tight body of yours, it was making love." Then Dillon lowered his head and covered Jamie's mouth with his own.