Lost Souls

by AJ Lange

  That night he had escaped to the DeLuca’s back porch. Antonia had baked a pie that afternoon. Matt had smelled it, the sweet apple, cinnamon, and vanilla wafting across the backyard as he and Gavin had kicked a soccer ball back and forth. Walking across the yard in the darkness, Matt craved the homey scent so closely associated in his mind with kitchens and families and love. He sat on the stoop, arms wrapped around his knees, shivering in the cold, unable to completely escape the girl’s pleas ringing in his ears.

  He jumped when the door opened behind him.

  “Matty?” Antonia asked softly. “Sweetie, what are you doing out this late?” She crouched next to him on the stoop, one hand gently pushing back the dark locks of hair from his forehead. “Oh, baby,” she murmured, heartbreak evident in her voice as she took in his disheveled exhaustion. “Come on,” she said, gathering him close and leading him inside.

  She cut him a sliver of pie and poured a glass of milk, sitting next to him at the table while he ate it. She didn’t speak, didn’t question him, just stroked his arm or his back, smiling at him with a sad openness in her eyes.

  When he pushed the empty plate away, he whispered, “Thank you.”

  Her smile was genuine when she shrugged nonchalantly. “I like a piece of midnight pie myself sometimes.” She slid the glass nearer his hand. “Drink your milk.”

  Matt did, watching her rinse his plate and fork in the sink, drying her hands on a red-checkered dishcloth, a cheery spot of color against the white laminate countertop.

  “How about a story,” she asked when he was finished.

  Matt sighed in relief. She wasn’t going to make him go home yet. “Okay.”

  When he sat in the corner of the sofa, his usual position while he and Gavin watched cartoons after school, she scooted in close to him, a few books in her hands. She held them out, letting him choose. Matt flushed when he chose The Little Prince, but Antonia smiled. “My favorite.”

  She cuddled him close, wrapping an arm around him until he was held fast against her side, his head against her breast. Matt listened to her soothing voice read the words of the narrator, savoring his favorite line when it fell from her lips: One sees clearly only with the heart. He drifted to sleep sometime before the end, before the prince and narrator bid farewell.

  When he awoke the next morning, he was still on the couch, covered in a warm, handmade quilt, his head resting on his pillow, the one usually stored at the foot of Gavin’s bed. His father’s voice had startled him awake, deceivingly dulcet tones in conversation with Antonia in the kitchen.

  “I didn’t want to wake you, since he was sleeping so peacefully,” Antonia was saying quietly.

  “Quite all right,” Isaiah murmured. He looked to the door when Matt appeared. “You gave me quite a fright, young man.”

  Matt flinched at the hard glitter in his father’s cold eyes. “I’m sorry, father,” he whispered, gaze falling to the linoleum.

  “I think he was sleepwalking, to be honest.” Antonia’s laugh sounded forced, too jovial. “I’m glad I was still up to fetch him. It was entirely too cold for him to be wandering around alone outside.”

  Matt thought he could detect something in her voice, but he couldn’t decipher it, nor the tension that loomed in the room. He shrank away; he knew how violently his father could react when confronted, especially by a woman.

  “Matt is well cared for,” Isaiah said, quiet but firm.

  He and Antonia stared at one another.

  The moment broke when Isaiah stood. “Come, Matt.” His fingers bit into Matt’s shoulder when he pushed him out of the door and Matt winced. Isaiah turned to Antonia before he stepped off of the ledge. “Have I ever mentioned that I have several homes, all over the country? It’s quite amazing, really, that we have settled here for so long. I suppose your Gavin would miss young Matthew, were we to relocate.”

  Antonia’s eyes hardened and her smile was cold. “I would miss Matthew, as would we all. He is part of our family.”

  Isaiah smiled slowly. “Well, I don’t have any immediate plans for such now. One never knows though, do they?” He cocked his head. “Thank you again, Mrs. DeLuca.”

  “Goodbye, Matt,” she said softly stepping forward to hug him, dropping a warm kiss to his cheek. “I love you,” she whispered into his ear.

  Matt had thought of that encounter many times over the years. He had often wondered how many ways Antonia DeLuca had saved him, how many times he wasn’t aware of, if there were a number large enough to quantify it.

  She was his mother, the only one he had ever known. At least the only one he could remember.

  “What happened to my mother,” Matt whispered.

  “Matt,” Drew shook his head, sighing. “I don’t know. The usual, I guess. Thank God I was still young, barely eight. They weren’t making make me help yet.” He drew a shuddering breath. “She cried for you, for days. Then Isaiah stopped letting me bring her food. She begged me to get you out, help you escape. She never,” Drew stopped, holding a fist to his mouth, squeezing his eyes shut.

  Matt watched a tear track down his cheek.

  “She never asked for help, only for you. She begged me to save you.” Drew shrugged miserably. “I tried, baby brother. All of these years, I did my best.”

  Matt grabbed Drew in a hard hug, holding him tight. “You did. You did.”

  Present

  “And you never heard from him again?” Gavin chanced a look at Matt in the passenger seat. They had been driving for just under an hour. Matt seemed to be holding up so far, but his expression was pinched, tight around his eyes. “It might be important, Matt.”

  “No,” Matt said quietly. “I thought after I left home, maybe, or after the house burned and everyone was gone...” he trailed off.

  “Maybe Isaiah did find him,” Gavin speculated quietly. He didn’t miss Matt’s flinch. He waited, hypnotically watching the asphalt disappear under the hood of the Jeep.

  “I have always liked imagining he was on a beach somewhere, drinking something with rum and an umbrella,” Matt said wistfully. “I was glad that one of us escaped.”

  Gavin reached for Matt’s hand and Matt gripped it tight against his denim-clad thigh. “Did you ever try to find your family? Figure out who you were?” Gavin’s mind was still whirling from the new information. He was sickened by a latent awareness of how truly shocking Matt’s early life had been; just when Gavin thought he had a grasp of the gruesomeness, he was confronted with some new tidbit of information that spiraled him even further into despair. And he hadn’t been the one forced to live through it.

  He squeezed Matt’s hand a little bit tighter.

  “Yes,” Matt said, looking out of the passenger window at the rapidly fading scenery. “My parents were from a suburb in Detroit. My mother had driven me into the city that day for a routine checkup.” He looked over at Gavin and smiled sadly. “I had no siblings, and my father died in a car accident less than a year after we disappeared. It’s probably how our missing persons case went off the grid so quickly.”

  “You researched this all on your own, without telling me.” Gavin knew he shouldn’t feel slighted, but he had spent his life as an investigator, not to mention the person who had loved and been loved by Matt for most of their lives. He could have trusted him.

  “Gavin,” Matt murmured. “Don’t.”

  Gavin shifted uneasily on the seat. “I can’t help it,” he said, the agony of lost moments, missed chances weighing heavily on him. “We could have done this together, it might have changed everything.”

  Matt closed his eyes wearily and laid his head against the headrest. “I know. I’ve been telling myself that since the moment I walked in and found Leanne.”

  “Matt,” Gavin said worriedly. “I didn’t mean that. That’s not your fault.”

  “Isn’t it?” He rolled his head to the left, peering at Gavin from beneath his lashes. “Isn’t all of this really my fault? Doesn’t it all boil back down to that singular
moment the summer we were fifteen, when I gave in and let myself kiss you?”

  “I kissed you,” Gavin reminded him, squeezing his fingers again. “And no. It doesn’t. Even without that moment, we still would have ended up right here. Together. It’s who we are.”

  Matt studied him, the afternoon sun causing Gavin to squint, the narrow furrow between his brow beloved for its sameness on his strong, masculine face. He would love Gavin DeLuca until the day he died, and even after that, whatever part of him was left in the universe would go on loving him until the end of time. “Would we?” He asked hopefully, letting himself consider, for the first time in his entire life, that Gavin felt the same, would always feel the same.

  “Yes,” Gavin said with conviction. He smiled at him before returning his gaze to the road. “You and I are—” He shifted again, cheeks flushing. “Okay this is going to sound incredibly gay,” he muttered, flustered.

  Matt chuckled, chest inflating with a sudden effervescent warmth. “Then by all means, say it.”

  “Right,” Gavin grumbled, clearing his throat. He snuck another glance, enjoying like hell the soft smile on Matt’s face. “You’re my soul mate. For lack of a better word. And I, for one, am done running from it.”

  Matt bit his lip, wondering how the fuck he had gotten so lucky in the middle of the apocalyptic state of his life. “Me too,” he whispered.

  Gavin pulled his hand to his mouth, kissing the knuckles. “Good,” he said gruffly. “Now shut up and stop looking at me like that before I have to stop the car.”

  Matt laughed again, but closed his eyes, praying that wherever Drew was, he was safe. And that wherever Micah was, Matt could stay one step ahead of him.

  Chapter 14

  Gavin had to stop mid-afternoon, halfway across Missouri, when Matt’s face began to show the strain of the long drive.

  “Gavin, we don’t have time.” Matt grimaced when he struggled to remove his seatbelt. They were parked at a rest area.

  Gavin reached across the seat and gently untangled the belt webbing from Matt’s injured arm.

  “We can spare a few minutes. I need to stretch my legs.”

  “No you don’t.” Matt sighed. “The longer we wait—”

  “We’re not waiting. We’re stretching my legs and getting you a cold bottle of water so you can take your pain meds.”

  “I don’t need them. I want to stay focused,” Matt argued, and Gavin rolled his eyes at the set of his jaw.

  “Don’t get all stubborn and pouty on me now. I need you to take your pills like a good boy so I can concentrate on driving. The quicker we get back to Parkville, the quicker we find Gina.” Gavin climbed out and slammed the driver’s side door. He took a deep breath. He wasn’t really mad, he was worried. Worried the shoulder was damaged more than Levon could effectively detect in a crappy motel room in the middle of Nowhere, Tennessee; worried that Gina was suffering, every passing minute increasing her torment. Worried that they wouldn’t be able to stop him, Micah (assuming Matt was right about the identity of the kidnapper), and that no matter how careful they were, how prepared, it still boiled down to a single, undeniable fact: this had always been about Matt. Worried that Gavin could still lose him.

  He jumped when Matt leaned against the hood beside him.

  “I’ll watch the Jeep if you want to take a walk,” Matt said quietly.

  Gavin tilted his head in his direction, squinting against the bright day. “I can lock it.” He slid one hand around Matt’s elbow carefully, gently, pulling. “Besides, what kind of boyfriend would I be if I left you out here alone? Looking all handsome and delicious.”

  Matt snorted softly, letting Gavin shift him closer, the space separating them reducing until it was nonexistent. “Delicious?”

  Gavin shrugged, fighting a grin. “If the shoe fits.”

  “Hopefully you’re the kind who recognizes his delicious,” Matt wiggled his eyebrows, “boyfriend is about to bean him with a rock if he doesn’t stop hovering?”

  “This isn’t hovering.” Gavin grinned broadly, turning to slide between Matt’s open and relaxed stance. He settled his weight against him, pinning him to the car, careful to avoid the injured shoulder. “This is hovering.” He nuzzled Matt’s temple.

  “My apologies,” Matt murmured, brushing his lips across Gavin’s.

  Gavin’s mouth parted, tongue darting out to taste, but Matt slanted his head away.

  Gavin groaned. “You’re a fucking monster.”

  Matt chuckled and pushed Gavin back before holding out a hand. “Let’s stretch our legs, DeLuca.”

  Gavin took it, relishing the firm, warm grip of Matt’s fingers and ignoring the sidelong looks they drew from a family leaving the restrooms. They looked like your typical midwesterners: mom, dad, two point five kids, a dog. Gavin smiled to himself, thinking the vacationers had gotten more culture than they bargained for at this little rest stop on I-44. He winked at Dad who quickly glanced away, flustered.

  He bought a soda and two bottles of water from a vending machine while he waited for Matt to finish in the men’s room. He passed a bottle and two pills to him when he emerged, accompanied by a stern look.

  “Okay, okay,” Matt rolled his eyes. He threw the pills back and chased them with a long drink. “Satisfied?”

  “No,” Gavin sighed dramatically and Matt laughed.

  “Touché.” He grabbed Gavin’s t-shirt front and pulled him down for a hard kiss.

  Gavin’s head was still spinning when Matt turned and sauntered away. “Bastard,” he muttered, scowling at Matt’s perfect ass he trailed him across the freshly mown grass between the restroom facilities and the parking lot.

  Back in the car, Gavin fiddled with the radio before navigating the Jeep onto the interstate. Most of the drive to Parkville would be state highways from here, so this would be the last bit of ‘straight stretch’ for a while. Hopefully Matt would be able to sleep and Gavin could listen to some tunes and clear his mind.

  He was lightly humming along to What It Takes, by Aerosmith, (fitting, he thought to himself, amused), when Matt’s hand found his thigh. His eyes darted over to the passenger seat. “I thought you were sleeping.”

  Matt smiled, tugging at Gavin’s forearm until Gavin relented, dropping his hand into Matt’s upturned palm. “This song is not about us, Gavin.”

  Gavin flushed. Mind-reading asshole. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

  “If you want to define our relationship with Aerosmith, I much prefer Angel.”

  Gavin bit his lip, hiding his smile, wondering if the happy flutter of his heart was somehow visible on his face. “That’s because you’re a sap.”

  Matt grinned and closed his eyes again. “Says the man who once dedicated Faithfully to me. Live. On the radio.”

  “I thought we were never bringing that up again,” Gavin said under his breath.

  “Highway run... into the midnight sun,” Matt sang softly.

  “Oh shut up,” Gavin grumbled, but his smile was so wide it hurt and if he gripped the fingers entwined with his a little too tightly, Matt didn’t complain.

  Gina sat up when she heard footsteps on the stairs.

  “Gina,” The man nodded in her direction, leaning against the bars of the cell. He held a dark bag in his hand. “How would you feel about getting some fresh air this afternoon?”

  Gina refused to respond, heart racing, wondering desperately if this was it, the hour she would lose her life, leave Dom forever.

  He unlocked the door and stepped inside, pulling a knitted stocking cap from the bag. “I thought your head might be a bit chilly.”

  Gina ignored him but her eyes were glued to the bag, and to the knife strapped to his belt. It winked at her in the overhead lights.

  “You can sit up front,” he sing-songed, wiggling the hat. “Take the hat, angel. Take the hat and keep me company. I must admit, I’ve been a little more lonely with you than I have been with my usual guests.”

 
Gina met his eyes then, narrowing her gaze on his face. His expression was unreadable.

  Except for the part where he was irrefutably insane.

  “I’d rather rot in this cell.” Her voice was rusty from disuse.

  He chuckled. “I thought you might say that. See how well we’re getting to know each other?” His hands were whip quick, pouncing on her wrists and pinning her to the bed. He frowned when he saw the bruising along her hand where he had broken the narrow bone. “I suppose I should apologize. That looks painful.”

  He held her slim wrists in one hand while he wrested a pair of handcuffs from his back pocket. She stopped struggling when he had her cuffed, and lay silent under him, trying to calm her breathing, not wanting to excite him with her fear.

  “There,” he murmured. He released her and she flinched when he reached forward, but he only slid the cap into place over her newly shorn head. He laughed softly. “Well, hair stylist is most definitely not a suitable career path for me it would seem.” He chucked Gina under the chin and she had to withhold the urge to bite him.

  “You’re still the most lovely creature I think I’ve ever had the pleasure of possessing,” he whispered.

  Maybe she should have recognized his intent before he pressed his lips to hers, tongue forcing its way into her mouth, but he hadn’t touched her since she’d arrived and she’d grown complacent. She gagged, trying to push him away, attempting to wrench her head back, failing as he held her face firmly against his, palms flat against her cheeks.