Lila

Neither of them wanted to sleep, though she knew Dane was right, that they needed it. Whatever his father had planned for the next day, it wouldn't help being exhausted as well as in pain. And she was in a lot of pain, though she felt like she hid it pretty well from Dane. The fact that there was nothing to do except cuddle in bed together helped.

​​

She wasn't sure what had happened when he'd gripped her ribs, but the already strong pain had become intense, and it was growing worse the longer she sat. Her breathing remained shallow and light because the deeper she breathed, the more it hurt.

"We really need to rest," Dane said at some point in the middle of the night. "Even if we can't sleep, let's lay down and… just try."

Without warning her lip trembled. It felt like if they slept, if they gave up any time… it would be the end. Dane's brow creased when he saw her struggling, and he leaned in, but she waved him off. "It's okay, you're right," she said, then almost groaned when swallowing the sob made her hiccup. Her rib screamed. "I'll be the little spoon," she said, trying to be cute, but it just sounded sad.

She lay down on the good side, but then had to catch Dane's arm when he lay behind her and tried to wrap his arm around her. Moving him, limiting him, now of all times, made her want to cry more, and the pain increased with every contraction of her lungs.

Dane lay his long arm down her body instead, resting on her hip and thigh, stroking with his fingertips and whispering comfort to her that just made her want to cry more. But eventually she got it under control and was able to breathe a little more easily.

Shifting on Dane's arm that he had under her head, she dropped a kiss on the inside of his bicep and sighed slowly.

Her eyes were heavy and she closed them. She'd never be able to sleep, but at least then maybe they'd stop aching.

*****

Dane

Part of him was glad when she fell asleep, because at least she'd get some rest. It was clear that rib was troubling her more than she wanted to admit. He could have torn his father's throat out with his bare hands for hurting her that way.

But those kinds of thoughts weren't going to help him face what was to come the next day, so he shook them off and continued tracing his fingers on her thigh, and nuzzling her hair, remembering the sweetness of her smile, and her laughter. The wicked way she grinned when she was being naughty. The fearlessness with which she'd faced him down when he was in a rage… There was nothing about her he didn't admire. Had he ever told her that? He didn't think so. He gritted his teeth and resolved to do that first thing when she woke up. No matter what was to come, she should know that.

Then he closed his eyes and breathed in her smell—so familiar, so unique. So… irreplaceable. How was he going to get through the coming days, weeks, months without smelling her? Without hearing her voice? Without seeing her smile?

His breath caught but he was so damn sick of feeling sad—and helpless. So fucking sick of staring at the wall and just… waiting. He wanted to scream! He wanted to fight! He wanted to shoot his father in the head and walk away. He wanted… he wanted anything but what they were facing and the utter injustice of it all rolled over him again and he ground his teeth so hard his teeth almost cracked.

He didn't ask to be born to this man.

He didn't ask to look like him.

He didn't ask to be… made by him.

His father was a psychopath. He didn't care about anything except his own entertainment, or achievement. He was utterly ruthless, merciless, and cruel.

What kind of God would let a man like him even exist?

Bert's face swam into his mind's eye and Dane muttered a curse as he fell into the memory…

Bert sat forward again, locking eyes with Dane. "If you ever get yourself in any situation you can't handle—if it ever goes bad for you, Dane, you yell for Jesus. You hear me. You tell him you need help and you cry out to him like a baby for its mother." Dane snorted, but Bert remained serious, and didn't drop his eyes. "You'd like the real Jesus, Dane. He was kind and gentle to the messed up people who couldn't protect themselves—and he kicked ass and took names against the powerful men of the day. Sounds like someone else I know."

Dane squirmed. "That's not the Jesus I got told about."

Bert just nodded. "You just remember what I said: If you ever find yourself in a situation you can't solve, if you can't save yourself—or someone else—you ask him, and he'll do it for you…"

Dane swore again and Lila stirred and he forced himself to stillness, quietness. But inside a fire burned hot, and threatened to overwhelm him.

Bert had always said God knew your thoughts, that you didn't have to speak out loud. Well, Dane had a few choice words for a god that would let Lila be trapped, naked and hurt, by a man who'd never be prosecuted.

Words like, Call yourself a King?

Call yourself merciful?

Call yourself strong?

What kind of protector let things like this happen to people like her?

What kind of power could even exist if you didn't choose to save someone as good as her?

If you're really there, Jesus, show up and get her out of here. Make her safe. Heal her up. And don't let any of this leave her touched. Can you do that? If you can, then maybe we'll talk. But I'm never speaking to you again if this is what you do with the good people in this world.

Because I know what that means for people like me.

There was a click from the door behind them and Dane's entire body went rigid as he stared over his shoulder expecting the cold, ruthless face of his father to peer around the door. He should have known his father would tell him he had a day, then steal it away.

But when it opened, and the rectangle of cold light spread across the floor of the room, it was a much thicker, much broader shadow cast across the carpet.

Dane sat up, blinking. Unable to believe what he saw. It couldn't be.

It couldn't be.

"Chris?" he croaked.