Chapter 82

When he returned home, he discovered Rhys hadn’t returned. The hours turned to days and, with it, the raw, painful truth. He was gone, forever. Ian grieved him like a man possessed, tearing apart Rhys’s bedroom, screaming his name. He didn’t stop until his throat ached, and his hands were bloody, stunned into submission by the discovery of the photos he’d found. Exhausted and heaving for breath, Ian sank to the floor, unaware of the truth he held in his hand. One that laid twisted in the lines of an adolescent boy’s smiling face, his innocence, taunting him with their shared destiny. A collision course he’d never be able to outrun.

* * * *

Adam awoke, unaware of how long he’d been asleep, but as soon as his eyes opened, he suspected something was amiss. He reached out for Ian, expecting to find him, but found the other side of the mattress empty and cold. In a panic, Adam bolted upward, scrambling for the bedside lamp, assuming Ian had left. Instead, he sat at the edge of the bed.