Tiny Dark Deeds: Chapter 6

Dorian

When I found Wolf, he was in his parents’ garage.

He tossed paint at the wall.

My buddy was covered up to his arms with red and black paint, the canvas in front of him bleeding. He’d literally punctured holes in it, and the paint he threw gave the illusion of a canvas that seeped a blood red, the combined color choices only helping to give it that distinct tone.

Wolf ran his hands through it, smearing it out. He’d illustrated eyes, which bled from puncture holes. The guy was covered in sweat and looking just as untamed as he did on the field.

I wondered how long he’d been out here.

I treaded cautiously into my friend’s space. Saying he was going through it right now was an understatement. I knocked hard. “Hey.”

Not even a flinch from his direction, but he did remove his hands from the canvas. He was playing rock music and shut it off without looking at me.

I suppose I was welcome.

The Mallicks had a sink in their garage, and Wolf used it to scrub his arms. He had paint everywhere, his jeans, his hair. It’d probably be on his shirt too had he been wearing it. He tipped his chin from the sink. “Dad tell you where I was?”

He hadn’t. I came over to him, leaning against the wall. “Followed the tunes.”

He always played them when he worked, kind of like a code for us to stay the fuck out. When Wolf was playing music, we texted him, let him know we were here, and he found us.

A lot of things had changed, and I wasn’t letting my buddy close himself off. None of us guys were. I folded my arms. “Wells and Thatcher coming over?” I hadn’t heard from them but figured they would. Like stated, we’d been all spending pretty much every night together.

Wolf’s parents had pulled him out of school this week, and though the rest of us hadn’t been, we just got up in the morning and went. Ronald usually came by to get us.

“Uh, yeah,” he said. Hands clean, he shut the faucet off, and I tossed him a towel. Once he finished drying, he draped it over his shoulder. “They texted. They’re bringing pizza or something.”

I nodded, pushing off the wall when he left to clean up the area. I noticed he didn’t appear high today, which was good. We all did and continued to do our fair share of weed together, but we typically spent more hours sober than not.

Lately, we couldn’t not find Wolf baked, and I thanked fucking God my buddy had never touched the harder stuff. He might use that now, needing the release. I nudged him. “So, I was thinking tonight we could all just…”

“Whatever you want,” he mumbled, and finally did grace me with his face. With all that hair down, I wasn’t making out much, but my friend didn’t look right. He looked worse, which was saying something. As far as I knew, he was still able to sleep. At least a little.

There was so much vacancy behind his eyes today, and when he caught me looking, he brought his head down again. He picked up a paint can, and I started to say something, but the can in his hands went flying.

It hit the canvas.

If the piece looked like it’d been bleeding before, it was gushing now, a thick and violent ooze from the paint in the can.

A gore of red and black.

Wolf said no words about it, simply standing before it. He braced his arms. “My dad talk to you?”

He always asked that question. Every day his dad asked me a question, I got one from his son too. I buried my hands in my pockets. “Yeah.”

And that answered another question, one he wondered too. Had Sloane reached out to me, but one better…

Had she mentioned him.

He knew the answer before he even asked the question. If I had heard from Sloane, there wouldn’t be a wonder. He’d know.

But that didn’t stop him from asking.

Wolf left my side, continuing to clean up, and I followed his steps. “Buddy—”

“I’m thinking about going out on my own,” he said, my brow jumping, but his expression remained unchanged. He was completely serious, a sigh in his voice when he scrubbed his hair. “Just doing my own thing for a while, and maybe hitting up some places she might go.”

“Places like where?”

“I don’t know, D. I just…” he started, his fingers working. “My parents are treating me like I’m a fucking mental patient, and I’m becoming one the longer I’m here and not doing anything. I’m losing my fucking shit, so yeah, I have to go do something. She’s out there, and we’re twins you know so maybe it will,” he paused, lacing his hands above his head. “Maybe it will come to me. Where she is, I mean. Twins are supposed have like a link, right?”

Yeah, but as far as I knew, not supernaturally.

I wasn’t giving my buddy what he wanted to hear because he threw his hands up at me, leaving. Crossing the garage, I got his arm. “I just don’t think you should go out on your own.” He’d done that before, done that so many times, and it wasn’t good. “Maybe we just need to listen to our parents. If they keep having to worry about us, they’re not able to do what they need to do.”

I was aware my father’s words were coming out of my mouth, and though I didn’t completely feel that way, the last thing I needed was my friend, my grieving fucking friend, to be going out and chasing a thought he had about a twin link. He needed to be here.

He needed us.

We all needed each other right now, and it was all I had to keep my own shit together every day, to be there for him, his parents, and everyone else when I felt like fucking breaking.

My jaw clenched. “Buddy, listen to me when I say you need to be here with us.” I let go of him. “And say you do go out. You do that and she comes back, and we don’t know where the fuck you are.” I lifted a hand. “How do you think that would make Ramses and Brielle feel?”

“I didn’t ask for your permission, Dorian,” he said, his voice even, but his eyes cut. “And I’m only telling you because I’ll need your help to cover for me.”

Of course, he was. I’d always covered for him in the past, and it was stupid then like it would be now.

We all enabled each other. Wells and Thatcher lying for me when I’d gone after my grandfather. All of us lying together to keep shit from our parents. I shook my head. “I’m saying just give it a chance. Let our parents handle this.”

“But they aren’t, Dorian.” He cringed. “They haven’t found her, and I can’t just not do anything.”

I knew the feeling. I understood, but I also knew what not listening to our folks had done in the past. We’d all fucked up.

“I’m going to handle my business,” he said. “She’s my sister, and I’m going to find her.”

But he wouldn’t find her. He hadn’t in the past.

And he wouldn’t now.

All him doing what he wanted to do would cause more chaos, and I literally couldn’t handle another fucking thing. It would drive me over the edge.

I’d break.

“You can’t leave,” I whispered, throat flicking. My voice had gotten fucking tight, and I swallowed that shit away. “You can’t, and I’m begging you to let our parents handle this.”

This was the hardest thing I could ever fucking say or do. Not searching would kill me, but I couldn’t worry about Ares too. He couldn’t go AWOL, go off the grid too. I knew for a fact I wouldn’t be able to handle it.

I was already hanging on by a thread.

I was dying inside just like he was, and he knew that. It might not be in the same way, no…

But it was there.

The absence of Noa Sloane was affecting both of us, and I needed him to be here right now. I needed that for him, his parents, and to give me and the other guys peace of mind. I wasn’t the only one not sleeping and laboring each night. Wells, Thatcher, and I were up at all hours.

My gaze clashed with my buddy’s, his throat working too. Color charged his face. “I can’t wait forever.”

I didn’t expect it. I think it was a matter of time for all of us. We could only sit on our hands for so long. “I know but just give it a little time.”

“How long?”

I didn’t have the answer to that, shrugging. “Just give them a chance. A fair one.”

His head lowered. I thought he’d fight me more, but when he nodded, I finally got to fucking breathe again.

In silence, the pair of us cleaned up the garage together, but I knew my friend. He was letting this all be squashed, but only for now.

This wouldn’t be the end of this conversation.